“Fine, but nothing that’s going to mess up my life in any significant way,” I say.
“No, of course not,” he says. “What you need is to have a few adventures. New experiences. You need to face your fears.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. But like I said, I don’t know where to start.”
He tilts his head and grins at me. “This is going to be amazing. I think I’m really going to enjoy dirtying you up a little.”
Oh my god. He did not just say that, and my panties did not just get wet.
Okay, yes they did.
“Just be gentle with me,” I say. “I’m a fraidy-cat.”
He smiles again and my insides turn to mush. “Darling, you have nothing to worry about. I’m going to take excellent care of you.”
7
Lucas
I jot down a few notes as I sip my afternoon coffee. Work was stressful as hell, but I came out ahead at the end of the day. My profits and losses can swing pretty wildly from one hour to the next. I’m used to that. Market conditions today, however, tested my aversion to risk. Thankfully, I trusted my instincts, and they didn’t steer me wrong. I went from losing about five grand, to being ahead by two, so that’s a big win.
Becca’s front door closes with a bang. She’s right, the walls are thin. I guess she’s home from work. I shake my head thinking about her. The sweet preschool teacher. I can picture her sitting in a chair in front of a bunch of four-year-olds, reading a story.
It seems it’s my task to help the good girl find her bad side.
I’m actually stoked that she asked me. Surprised, but glad. She wants me to help bring out the bad girl? I can definitely do that.
The question is, where do I begin?
At first, I figured this would be easy. Take her out, get her drunk, maybe convince her to do something crazy like skinny dipping in the lake next to the golf course. But I have to be careful with this. There were about five times during our conversation where not only did my dick stand up and pay attention, my thoughts immediately went somewhere they shouldn’t. Bad girl? Oh, baby, I’ll show you how to be bad.
But I know she didn’t mean it that way, and sleeping with her is not a good idea. She’s way too sweet of a girl to want what I have to offer. Granted, she’d love every second of it, but I’m sure she’d want the relationship trappings to go along with it. And I’m definitely not going there.
I need to think of ways to get her out of her comfort zone that don’t involve me getting her naked. Not quite as much fun, but I’m looking forward to it anyway.
I do have an idea for where to begin. It’s not so much bad girl as it is making her do something she might not otherwise do. Face her fears. I send Finn a quick text and get up to grab a bite to eat and change before I head out to put my plan into action.
I’m greeted by a buzz of conversation as I push open the door to Finn’s pub. The place is packed, which is perfect. For what I have planned, we need an audience.
Becca is sitting with Juliet at a small table off to the side. I grin at both of them, but head to the bar first. I need to talk to Finn.
Finn comes out from the kitchen. “Hey, man.”
“Hey. Are we good for tonight? I know it’s not a Saturday, but I have a reason.”
“Yeah, it’s fine with me,” he says. “Are you going to tell me what you’re up to, or am I just playing along?”
“I’m just doing something with Becca.”
Juliet appears next to me, out of nowhere. “What about Becca?”
“Where did you come from?” I glance around, but I don’t see Becca.
“I came from over there,” Juliet says. “But why are you talking about Becca?”
I smile at her. I see what she’s doing—that girl thing where they circle the wagons when they perceive a threat to one of their own. “Why shouldn’t I be talking about Becca?”
She raises an eyebrow. “You be good, Lucas Murphy.”
I put my hands up. “What? Why would you think I’d be anything else?”
“Because I know you,” she says.
“You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Becca just had her heart ripped to shreds. Don’t you dare mess with her. Or…”
I laugh and Juliet glares at me. “Or what?”
“I don’t know, but it’ll be something bad.”
I just wink at her. “Okay. I’m going to get out the karaoke machine.”
Jesse, one of the pub employees, helps me get things set up. I notice Becca come out of the restroom, and she stares at me for a long moment before going back to her table with Juliet. I chuckle to myself.
I go back to the bar while Jesse gets the first singer started on a song. I order two shots of vanilla vodka with a splash of cherry to make them go down easy; I figure that will give Becca one less reason to object than if I brought her a shot of whiskey or something. I carry them over to Juliet and Becca’s table and take a seat.
“Hi, ladies.” I slide one of the shots over to Becca.
“What’s this for?” she asks.
“Liquid courage.”
“Lucas, what are you doing?” Juliet asks.
I ignore her and keep looking at Becca. I lift my shot. “Come on. Down it.”
“I want to know why,” she says.
I hold her gaze and smile. “Trust me.”
She narrows her eyes at me, but lifts her shot glass and drinks. I swallow mine.
The first guy finishes his song and the other customers give him a round of applause. He didn’t sound too bad. The next singer takes the microphone and the music starts up again.
I turn to Becca and hold out my hand. “You ready?”
She eyes me with suspicion. “Ready for what?”
“Our turn.”
“Oh, no,” she says. “I’m not singing.”
“Do you want another shot first?” I ask.
“No.”
“New experiences, Becca.” I stand and hold out my hand again. “I know it’s scary, but you need to face some fears.”
“I can’t get up in front of everyone,” she says. “And I’m not a good singer.”
“That’s okay, we’ll do it together. Come on, it’s just karaoke. No one expects you to be good.”
Her brow furrows and she chews on her lower lip.
“It’s okay, Becca,” Juliet says. “You really don’t have to.”
Becca straightens and slips her hand in mine. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Awesome.”
I lead Becca across the pub, tossing a wink over my shoulder at Juliet as we walk away. She watches us go, her mouth hanging open.
We get to what passes for a stage—it’s really just an area where there’s room for a few people to stand with a wall at their back. The last singer hands me his microphone, and Jesse gives Becca the second one.
She pops up on her tiptoes and speaks into my ear. “What are we singing?”
“I Love Rock and Roll,” I say. “Everyone loves Joan Jett. Trust me. Act a little silly and have fun with it, and half the place will start singing along.”
Her brow furrows, and she clutches the microphone with both hands, but she nods. I give Jesse a wave to get the song started.
The music begins and at first, it’s mostly me singing. Becca holds the mic too far from her mouth for it to pick up her voice, and she watches the screen for the lyrics. A few people start clapping along. Just before the chorus hits, I nudge her and smile.
She brings the mic closer and sings along, half laughing. By the second round of the chorus, most of the other customers are yelling the words and fist pumping in the air along with Becca. Finn whoops from behind the bar, and I catch a glimpse of Juliet smiling and clapping to the beat of the music.
The song ends, and everyone cheers. I hold up Becca’s arm, like she just won first place. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes sparkling—her smile lights up her whole face. We clasp hands and give a dramatic bow.
I ta
ke the mic and give them both back to Jesse, then grab Becca in a big hug. People reach out and give her high fives while we walk back to her table on the other side of the pub.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” she says with a laugh.
I nudge her with my elbow. “See? I knew you could do it. And was it fun?”
“Yeah, it was really fun.”
“Want to do another song?” I ask.
She raises her eyebrows and chews on her lower lip again. I’m mostly kidding—my plan was to get her up there once—but the spunky little thing is thinking about it.
“Okay, let’s do it,” she says. “But maybe I should have another drink first.”
“Darling, I have you covered.”
Four songs—and I’m not sure how many drinks—later, neither of us are in any shape to drive, so Juliet takes us home. Juliet gives me the side-eye when she says goodnight, and I half expect her to get out and take Becca up to her door.
Becca and I walk up to the path that separates our two front doors.
“Hey, you.” I step closer, and I’m almost drunk enough that I grab her and kiss her. But I stop myself before I make that mistake. Although I’m having trouble remembering why it would be a mistake. “You were awesome tonight.”
“Thanks,” she says with a giggle. “I hope I don’t regret anything tomorrow.”
I wave my hand, like it’s no big thing. “Nah. You won’t. We sang a few songs, and we avoided anything by the Spice Girls. Nothing to regret.”
She laughs and fiddles with her keys. Damn it, she’s giving me all the right signals. I could absolutely kiss her right now, and she’d be totally into it. I could take her into my place, and fuck her brains out. Better yet, I could take her into her apartment, and fuck her brains out on her bed. Oh my god, I bet her sheets are pink. It’s almost too tempting to resist.
But she hiccups and covers her mouth with her hand, reminding me that she’s pretty tossed. Plus, she’s on my off-limits list for a reason. We have to be neighbors. She might not regret singing karaoke in front of a bunch of people, but she’d probably regret sleeping with me. We had an awesome night together, and I don’t want to ruin it.
“We should both crash,” I say. “Will you make it inside okay?”
Fine, I’m leaving an opening in case she invites me in.
She takes a step back. “Oh, yeah. I’m good.”
“All right.” I step back, putting a little more distance between us before I lose my mind and pounce on her. “I’ll see you later.”
“Good night, Lucas,” she says. “And thanks.”
I point at her. “Hey, thank you. Tonight was fun.”
She smiles and takes the few steps to her door. I wait until she unlocks it and goes inside.
Her door shuts and I blow out a long breath. My head is swimming, like I used up the last of my faculties saying goodnight. I go inside, stumble upstairs, and fall into bed still dressed—kind of disappointed I’m alone.
8
Becca
My stomach is a little queasy when I get home from my run. It’s hotter than usual—the sky is clear and there’s no breeze coming off the ocean. My shirt sticks to my skin and a bead of sweat tickles my neck. I need water—and a shower.
I glance at Lucas’s door. I haven’t seen him since Friday night when he convinced me to sing Karaoke with him at the pub. Far from regretting it the next day, I woke up Saturday morning with a sense of satisfaction. I’ve always been scared to get up in front of people—forget singing in front of people. I’ve never liked being the center of attention. But with Lucas, it was fun. I felt so… free. Free to be silly, and have a good time. The drinks helped, I’m sure, but it was more than getting tipsy. I’ve been drunk with friends before, and wouldn’t have dreamed of getting up in front of everyone with a microphone.
It was scary, but I’m glad I did it. I still don’t feel like I’ve conquered my fraidy-cat side, but I’m one step closer.
My phone vibrates in my shorts pocket, so I pull it out and check. It’s a text from my dad. Another one. He texted me when I first went out for my run and I made the mistake of telling him what I was doing. About five minutes later, I got a freaking dissertation—via at least six messages because it went on so long—explaining why I should join a gym or find a running partner (preferably female) instead of going out for a run on my own.
I can almost hear the urgency in his latest text. Are you home yet, princess? Check in when you’re back.
A part of me is tempted not to text him. I love my dad, but even from three hours away, he’s smothering me. I understand that I’m his little girl, and he worries. But I wish he’d trust me enough to let me live my life. I don’t need to check in with my parents every time I go running.
Still, it would be mean not to reply. Yes, Dad, I’m back. No one kidnapped me on my way home.
He won’t think that’s funny, but I can’t help myself.
I need to figure out how to set some better boundaries with my parents. Although living this far away does help. My dad might text me a lot, but he can’t show up unexpectedly “just to check on me.” I love having space to myself.
I head inside and get some water, then go upstairs to take a shower.
I strip off my sweaty running clothes in my bedroom and wrap a fluffy towel around myself. The towels were a housewarming gift from Juliet, and they’re awesome—thick and pure white, like you’d get at a spa. I go into the bathroom, turn on the shower, and wait for the water to get hot.
After a minute, steam billows from the shower stall. I open the door and just as I’m about to take off my towel, I spot it on the ceiling.
A huge, black, disgusting spider.
I shriek before I can stop myself and clap a hand over my mouth. Oh my god. I hate spiders. I don’t just hate them. I’m terrified of them. Lots of people don’t like spiders. Me? As far as I’m concerned, they’re the most hideous creatures in existence and every last one of them is out to kill me. I can barely even look at a spider on TV, let alone face one down in the shower.
I slam the shower door shut. The water is still running, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. There’s a fricking spider in there. It’s not some small, normal spider, either. It’s legitimately enormous.
I adjust the towel around myself and take a deep breath. If I’m going to take care of myself, that means I need to be able to get rid of a spider. I repeat to myself what other people always say: They’re more scared of you than you are of them.
Right about now, I really doubt that.
It was on the ceiling, so I run downstairs and get a broom. Yes, this is good. I can reach it without getting close. I can do this.
I tip-toe my way into the bathroom, like it’s lying in wait, ready to pounce on me. After taking a deep breath, I open the shower door. I bite my lip to keep from shrieking again. It’s still there.
With my hands clutching the broom handle, I inch closer.
“Okay, spider, I live here, which means you can’t. I’m really sorry about this, but there just isn’t room for both of us in this apartment.”
I get closer and the horrible thing moves. I squeal and jump backward, my heart beating furiously.
Come on, Becca. Don’t let the spider win.
I tighten my grip on the broom and get closer. The spider’s spindly legs twitch, but I force myself to keep moving toward it. With the bottom of the broom pointing up, I get ready to thrust it at the ceiling.
I slam the broom against the ceiling, but the evil thing scurries into a corner. My heart hammers, and I hesitate for few seconds.
Just as I’m about to try again, the spider runs. Toward me.
I scream, drop the broom, and fly down the stairs and out my front door.
I bang on Lucas’s door and realize too late that I’m only wearing a towel. I hold it up at my chest, panicking. Maybe I should run back inside. But I already knocked. His door starts to open.
Oh, no.
Lucas’s eyes widen when he sees me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I start talking, the words spilling out fast.
“There’s a huge spider in my shower, and I tried to get it myself, but I swear it was going to attack me, so I ran.”
Lucas laughs. Of course he laughs at me. He leans against the door, clutching his stomach, practically doubling over.
“Stop it,” I say. “It’s not funny.”
“I’m sorry.” He straightens and puts up a hand. “Don’t be mad. You’re just… are you naked under there?”
My face heats up and I hold the towel tighter. “You know what? Never mind. I just won’t use my bathroom until it goes away.” I turn and march toward my door.
“No, Becca, wait. I’m sorry. I’ll help.” He catches up and I let him follow me into my apartment. “All right, let’s just see what we’ve got.”
I move aside so he can go upstairs first. I don’t want to go back into the bathroom at all, but I need to make sure he really kills it. The last thing I need is for him to think it would be funny to tell me it’s gone, but leave it somewhere for me to find. I shudder, a cold shiver running down my back.
“It was in your shower?” Lucas asks when we get to the bathroom. “The water’s running. Maybe you already drowned it.”
“No, it’s on the ceiling.”
I hesitate in the doorway while he picks up the broom. He opens the shower door, then slams it shut again.
“Holy shit,” he says.
“What?”
He takes a step back. “That’s a huge fucking spider.”
“I told you.”
“Okay, I have to be honest with you,” he says. “I hate spiders. I thought it was going to be one of those little ones. That thing is a fucking beast.”
“I know! Kill it!”
He adjusts his grip on the broom and shoots me a glare. I hold the towel and chew on my thumbnail while he creeps toward the shower. He glances over his shoulder at me again, his jaw set, before he throws open the shower door.
Could Be the One: (Lucas and Becca) (A Back to Jetty Beach Romance Book 2) Page 5