As the car pulled away from the curb, Beckett’s soul cried out. Leaving felt wrong, and yet he simply couldn’t see an alternative.
Daisy would understand. She’d snap out of her funk and she’d see that they were going to be okay. He had to just keep telling himself that, or he’d never get on the plane.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The two-engine plane touched down on a dirt runway. “Touched down” was a loose term that could also mean “slammed hard and jolted Beckett right down to the roots of his teeth.”
Mentally and physically drained, he poured himself out of the side door and hiked his bag up on his shoulder. The humid air accentuated the fact that he needed a shower. Funny, but he’d never really smelled himself before this trip. He blamed Daisy and her fancy shampoos and conditioners and the essential oils she diffused into the air. He smiled, thinking that she made her home beautiful just by being in it. He arched his back. What he wouldn’t give for a night on her couch. Sleeping in airports and going through customs with an automatic weapon pointed at his chest made him feel aged.
“Beckett?” yelled an American boy.
Beckett raised a hand in acknowledgement.
The boy drew closer, and Beckett realized he wasn’t a boy, but he wasn’t much of a man either. “I’m Tray.” He pumped Beckett’s hand. “I’m your translator and liaison with the tribe.” The exuberance of youth and the surety that grew in innocent soil sprinkled across Tray’s face like a smattering of freckles.
“I don’t need a translator; I speak fluent Spanish.”
“Right—but most of the tribe speaks a dialect that’s mostly unknown.” He pulled Beckett’s pack off his shoulder and tossed it over his own. “Car’s this way. Oh, and we’ll be out of cell service in about five steps, so if you have any calls to make, now’s the time.”
Beckett stopped in his tracks. “Satellite phone?” He was planning on talking to Daisy—daily if at all possible.
“If you climb to the top of a mountain, which takes about a week.” Tray’s blond hair fell in his eyes and he combed it to the side.
“Okay, I’ll need a minute.” He retrieved his phone and stared at it. How was he supposed to tell Daisy he couldn’t speak to her for a week or more? He’d promised they could talk, that they’d be in constant contact. Instead of dialing her number, he called his dad. He was listed as the beneficiary and emergency contact on Beckett’s files and he made sure to keep them up to date with his location in case they had to retrieve his body. Gruesome thoughts right before heading into a jungle, but that was his life.
He gave his dad the information and was about to hang up when he said, “I’m glad to see you finally got your head on straight.”
Beckett rubbed his weary eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”
Dad chose not to hear the sarcasm, said goodbye, and hung up.
Beckett slouched. He would never escape that man.
The thought lit Beckett up like a torch shining in the dark of night. He couldn’t escape his dad. No matter how far into the jungle he hiked, no matter which country he stayed in, his dad was always going to be there in one way or another.
“So why am I still running?” he asked no one in particular. Because that’s what he’d been doing. All these years, he’d been running away from home. He didn’t want to run any longer. He wanted to stay, to figure out how to build a home with Daisy.
“Beckett, over here!” Tray waved to him from the bed of a pickup truck. The parts for the new well were safely packed in crates and strapped down to ensure they survived transport on the bumpy roads.
Even though every part of Beckett wanted to be home, holding Daisy, he couldn’t turn his back on these people. The only way to get to Daisy was to go through this project. He dialed her number and the call went straight to voice mail.
“Hi, Daisy, it’s Beck. Which you probably already knew. Listen, I’m going to be out of range on this project. I’m sorry. I’m not sure how long it will take, but I’ll do my best to get back quickly.” He paused, wanting to tell her he loved her and that he was ready to grow some roots, but also not wanting those all-important words to be left on her voice mail. He quickly said goodbye and hung up before hurrying to the truck and hopping in the back.
“Let’s move.” The sooner he got this job done, the sooner he could kiss the woman he loved.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A month had gone by and still no word from Beckett.
Daisy fumbled through filming a glitter lip tutorial while trying to appear as if she had all the time in the world. She dropped several of the lip tattoos into her large bowl of warm water. Dropping her head to the table top, she groaned. “Today is not my day,” she said into the mic, knowing Vivian would use it for the blooper reel.
This month was not her month. The longer Beckett was gone, the harder it was to find a reason to continue putting one foot in front of the other with this much ache in her soul. She missed him terribly and her heartache affected her work. With each passing day, she came to understand that this was not the life for her. And if this was not the life for her, then Beckett was not the man for her life.
Her door burst open, scaring the living daylights out of her. She jumped and then glared at the lens. Might as well fill the blooper reel this morning.
Vivian clutched a paper in her hand; with her other hand she dragged Jason into the room. “You’re not going to believe these numbers!” Vivian’s voice went up and up in pitch until she was screaming.
Jason moaned and collapsed onto Daisy’s bed, landing facedown. He reached up, grabbed a pillow, and pulled it over his head to block out his mom.
Good luck, kid.
Vivian bounced around the room. “Here.” She thrust the paper into Daisy’s hand. Daisy scanned the views/sponsors report that covered how many people watched Beck’s Blooper Reel, as they’d dubbed the newest episode, and the corresponding sponsorship money. His other episodes were trending nicely and they’d decided to put together a bonus video to keep interest alive.
Vivian had done all the editing and creative work, saving Daisy from looking at his handsome face. She was still trying to wrap her head around him taking off like a shot with one sweet kiss and a closet full of clothes left behind. She’d oscillated between giving them to the needy and wearing his T-shirts to bed. He’d left in her darkest hour and therefore damaged her trust in him as a boyfriend.
Daisy’s hands began to shake. “It’s been up for an hour.”
Vivian checked her smartwatch. “An hour and twenty minutes now. The numbers are even higher.”
“Holy cats!” Daisy fanned her face with the paper. “This is … is …”
“Amazing.”
“Overwhelming.” She twisted to the side and brought up the comments feed and scanned. “‘Great job! He looks so much better’ … ‘I was skeptical but he is better without the man bun’ … ‘I want to marry him’ … ‘There’s hope for my husband—we’re going to the barber’s today!’ … ‘President of the Keep Beck in the US club’ … ‘Death to man buns’ … ‘Bring Beck Back’ …
“They’re all in love with him.”
“Can you blame them? He turned out hot.”
Daisy’s head spun with possibilities. “We should do a special episode—maybe once a month—dedicated to men’s grooming. I know there’s tons of channels on the subject out there, but we can’t do the same thing all the time or we’ll grow stagnant.”
Vivian grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’re killing me. Will you stop for a minute and enjoy this?” She gave Daisy a shake.
Daisy took a breath, wondering if she’d taken in oxygen since Vivian entered the room. “Okay.” She lifted and then dropped her shoulders dramatically. The realization of having twenty thousand-ish new followers in one morning wasn’t the big thrill Vivian treated it as such.
Was Daisy grateful? Yes.
Did she feel blessed? Yes.
This was exciting—it just wasn’t as exciting as it
should have been. Or would have been. Two months ago, all she focused on was her channel. She tracked the numbers religiously, thrilled each time she made headway. Now, it all seemed businesslike and impersonal. She dropped her face into her hands. The icy fingers of fear crept up her spine. What if she’d lost her passion for the work?
It’d happened to her mom. One day she was cropping, gluing, and glittering away at her scrapbooks, and the next she packed up her Silhouette and binders and moved to Florida.
“I’m excited, really. I’m just stressed about—life.”
Vivian’s lower lip pouted out. “I know.”
“You’re wearing lipstick,” Daisy blurted. “To my house in the very early morning. You never wear lipstick. What’s going on?”
“She put it on for Quinton even though I told her men don’t care,” Jason said from under the pillow.
Daisy clamped her hands over her mouth. Not much had tickled her funny bone since Beckett flew out, but that was funny.
Vivian grabbed the other pillow and whomped him on the backside.
“Mo-om!”
“You need to learn when to keep a secret,” she scolded.
Daisy shrugged. “It’s none of my business whom you date.” She went back to the paper, feigning innocence.
“I was thinking that it might be a good idea if he came with us to the FreeWater banquet. He and Jason could hang out.”
Inside, Daisy danced. Outside, she nodded slowly. “That would probably be for the best. My parents are supposed to come too.”
“Great. I can’t wait to see them again.” Vivian commandeered the keyboard and played back the video Daisy had taken that morning. She spliced and diced it while Daisy stared at the monitor, not seeing the pictures. FreeWater wanted to honor her for her contribution to their cause. She felt funny accepting an award when Beckett was in a politically unstable country, risking his life to wield a shovel. He was the one who should get an award. He should be at the banquet.
He should be here.
But he wasn’t, and Daisy couldn’t change that no matter how many times she got on her knees and prayed. It was time to face the facts: Beckett’s job would always come first. She got that—it should. His job was important and changed lives, and wanting to be higher on his priority list felt wrong in so many ways, even though being with him had always felt right.
There were no easy answers, and that was the hardest part of all.
Chapter Thirty
Six weeks without a word from Beckett.
Daisy adjusted the strap of her blueberry-colored dress as the CEO of FreeWater, Mr. Robert Combs, escorted her to the table at the front of the room. “We’re so glad to have you here, Miss Covington.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Daisy took her seat at the long banquet table set up next to the microphone, and Vivian sat beside her. Her friend radiated all things wonderful in her wine-colored gown. She waved to Quinton and Jason at a round table covered in a black tablecloth. They looked adorable in their matching tuxedos.
They ate dinner, making small talk and being charmed by the wealthy donors who made their way over to the table to make her acquaintance.
In the back of her head was the constant worry that Beckett had been kidnapped by terrorists who would demand a ransom—or worse. She’d spent too much time watching ransom videos made by guerilla groups in South America. Finally, when she thought she’d go mad, she called Kelly, who confirmed he was alive and well. She explained about the lack of cell service in the area. While Daisy was relieved that he was alive, she mourned the loss of what they could have had. Not just in phone conversations, but in a life together, because this level of stress every day for the rest of her life would kill her.
Just as the wait staff finished serving dessert, Mr. Combs went to the mic. The lights dimmed and a slideshow began. There were women carrying two children and leather pouches dark with liquid. Children carrying a single cup, concentrating on not spilling as the road stretched out for miles in front of them.
“We’re here tonight to honor those who have donated to FreeWater and improved life for hundreds of people across the globe. We have chapters in Africa, South America, and the Ukraine that are all thriving because of your donations.”
Polite applause followed his statement.
“And tonight, we have a special award for Miss Covington, who so graciously tossed FreeWater into the spotlight. EveryDayGlam! is responsible for quadrupling our budget and allowing us to expand into new areas.”
More applause. Daisy kept her eyes focused on the Mr. Combs. She didn’t feel like she’d done anything extra special, and the fact that her channel had grown because of this project left her feeling unworthy of such praise.
“I’m not here to actually present the award. The man who is has dug more wells for FreeWater in the last ten years than all our other field consultants combined.” Mr. Combs scratched his head. “Maybe we should figure out an award for him next year.” He talked right over the chuckles. “I’ll leave that up to the committee to decide. In the meantime, I present the makeover man himself, Beckett Kingsley.”
Daisy’s traitorous heart pounded as if it had been sleeping since Beckett left and just woke up. She pressed her hands against her ribs to try and hold it in. This must have been in the works before she arrived in California. Her eyes misted over. She made eye contact with Kelly, who was sitting at the table just below them. Kelly blew her a kiss and smiled wide.
Beckett approached the mic. He looked leading-man fantastic in his black tuxedo and bow tie. His hair was just cut and his beard shaped to perfection. Her fingers tickled with the need to feel it against her hand.
Beckett didn’t meet her gaze before he took the mic and shook hands with Mr. Combs. Instead of turning to her, he faced the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m thrilled to be here tonight to present this award to Daisy Covington. If you’ll indulge me for a moment, I’d like to give her something else first.” He held something up, and the audience oohed and ahhed. Daisy couldn’t see what he showed them because the podium was in the way.
He turned to her, holding one hand behind his back. Their eyes met and her cheeks flushed with the heat in his gaze.
“Daisy, someone once told me that beauty always fades. They couldn’t be more wrong. The type of beauty you possess comes from the way you care for and give to others. You tell women to find their inner beauty, and I’ve watched you help them do that. You’ve given an abused woman a new chance at love.”
Vivian squeezed Daisy’s hand quickly.
“And given another a new way to see herself.”
Kelly waved shyly from the table on the front row.
“And showed countless others how to take the high road, even in difficult of situations, through your example.”
“Hear, hear!” cheered Mom.
“Daisy, I know we’ve officially been a couple for a short time. But I’ve known you my whole life and you’ve known me, and I know we fit.” He stepped to her side and knelt on one knee. Slowly, he opened his hand to reveal a diamond ring.
Daisy closed her eyes. She’d been in a whole different place mentally than Beckett for the past month. While she’d been contemplating breaking things off, he’d been planning a proposal. “Beckett?” She had concerns and couldn’t take his ring until they were resolved.
Beckett’s hands closed over the top of hers—his touch feeling right and calming the waves in her stomach. “I have options and I’d like to discuss them, but …” He tipped his head to the crowd. “Do you trust me?”
Daisy rubbed her over-glossed lips together. When it came right down to it, she trusted him. She had for as long as she could remember. “Yes.”
“To which question?” Beckett whispered.
“Both.”
He was on his feet and she was in his arms in a flash. The crowd cheered, but Daisy wasn’t thinking about them. She framed Beckett’s face with her hands, loving the softness of his beard and the soap and mint smel
l of him.
“I love you, Daisy. I want you to be my wife.”
“I love you, too.” She kissed him once. “I want you to be my husband.”
He set her on her feet and kissed her for thirty-two seconds. Daisy knew exactly how long because over a hundred people got it on video and posted it before the night was over.
The video went viral.
Epilogue
Daisy squinted at the camera screen. Her nose was pink despite the layers of foundation she’d applied. Because she was in the jungle, she’d been inspired to create a brown smoky eye with green liner. The look was sure to be a hit with brown-eyed women all over the world, because it had just the right amount of exotic. She clicked the red button and waited a beat before speaking.
“Hi, friends. We’re here in South America, where we’re checking in with the organic honey farmers who provide the beautiful honey and beeswax for the entire EveryDayGlam! skin care line.
“Did you know that pollen from the plants the bees pollinate makes it into the honey? These growers are deep in the jungle where healing plants abound.” She stepped over a tall tree root as she walked along the edge of the field of avocado plants. On the far side of the field, hives, stacked three to five boxes high, could be seen in the background.
“Down here, they don’t use chemical weed killers of fertilizers. Every plant is grown the same way their ancestors planted, tended, and harvested. Hey, Beck!” she called. “Show them your weed killer.”
Beckett lifted his machete into the air. He’d spent the morning helping the farmers clear a new patch of land. The work was physical and demanding. His shirt stuck to his skin and sweat soaked the band tied around his forehead. He smiled that we’re-living-the-dream smile that melted Daisy’s heart before getting right back to taming the jungle.
“That’s a real man’s tool right there,” Daisy said for the camera. “What this means for you, friend, is that every cream, balm, and lotion from EveryDayGlam! is made with certified 100% organic ingredients.” A feeling of deep gratitude swelled within her chest, even though her career hadn’t taken the path she’d mapped out. KPaka didn’t come back, begging her to sign a contract. They were quite happy with their new spokesperson. Brittany did a wonderful job of marketing their products on her channel and mainstream commercials. She had Daisy’s dream in her pocket—and she could keep it.
EveryDayLove!: A MyHeartChannel Romance Page 15