The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

  He grins at me, and I grin back.

  Things aren’t fixed. Not by a long shot. There are years of bad blood between our clans. But we’re both the oldest. We share similar positions. There’s a level of respect we have for each other because of that.

  And frankly, Smith is the one in his family who’s been most open to us getting past this bullshit between us.

  It’s time I stop being so stubborn.

  I stand up and scratch my jaw. “Gotta head out.” I walk to the door. Before I get a chance to open it, he clears his throat.

  “Hey. Thanks. And good luck,” he offers.

  I nod and then exit. Walk through the bar and get back in my car. I’m not quite ready to go home yet. Part of me is tempted to go to the bluffs, just so I can remember what it felt like to be around Claire. Fuck, I’m so fucking gone. This woman has turned me inside out.

  I stubbornly resist my temptation and just drive around aimlessly instead. Willing myself to get her off my mind.

  But she’s tattooed on there more clearly than the ink on my skin.

  Monday morning, I show up at the work site of Miller Construction. Yesterday in the paper I saw they were hiring entry-level positions for a decent starting rate. So I decided to take a chance and come by to talk to them in person instead of just sending a resume. Which I don’t fucking have, because somehow I suspect “illegal protection racket manager for ten years” won’t exactly earn me brownie points in the working world.

  Men in hard hats and safety gear filter in and out of the boss’s trailer. I see steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee being chugged.

  Fuck, seven a.m. is early. Took me the drive here to clear the last of the cobwebs from my brain. Not to mention I stayed up a little late last night rehearsing what I was going to say and looking up job interview tips online.

  I smooth the front of my shirt down and knock on the trailer door.

  “Come in,” I hear, and I open the door and step inside. The man has his back to me as he’s staring at a lengthy blueprint on a huge table, flipping through pages and making scrawls on it.

  When he turns around, he gives me a polite smile, then his face freezes. He frowns. “What the hell are you doing here? You roughing people up in their own businesses now?”

  Fuck. My stomach sinks. I should have fucking known something like this would happen to me.

  This guy is another one of the people we fucked with outside of Outlaws.

  An inappropriate laugh threatens to spill from me at the irony of my situation. Trying to make a clean start, and the place I want to work for is run by a guy who has a legitimate reason to hate my guts.

  I straighten my spine and steady myself. “Yeah, so okay. I’m an asshole. I’ve done a lot of really stupid shit in my past. But I’m here because I want to make a better life for myself. Obviously I didn’t expect to run into someone I…”

  “Harassed?” he says blandly. “I was trying to go into Outlaws and you came over and tried to scare me away. The owners offered me free drinks to get me to stay.”

  “That sounds like them,” I say. “They’re my cousins. It’s a long story, but I’m not doing that shit anymore. Probably too much to ask you to consider me for the position in the paper, huh.” I ignore the heat spreading down my throat and across my chest.

  Fucking shame. I’m never going to get away from it.

  Claire saw through me, saw the scumbag I really was. Seeing myself through her eyes made me realize a lot of shit about myself.

  And now I can just imagine how this guy sees me.

  The foreman eyes me hard, his gaze narrow. “Why do you want to work here?”

  “I’m good with my hands. I’m a fast learner and I’m willing to work hard.” I shrug. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Are you really trying to turn over a new leaf?” he leans back against the table and rests his palms on the surface. “This isn’t some kind of elaborate scam to get in here and rob me or something, is it?”

  I sigh. It’s not fair for me to be irritated by the question, yet I am. But why should he believe me? I barely believe myself. Until I start doing the actual work, I won’t know how different my life can be. “No Sir. Nothing illegal. It’s well past time for me to start doing work above the board. You guys have a great reputation in town, and when I saw you were hiring, I dragged my ass out of bed to be here at seven in the morning just to talk to you.”

  He gives a slow nod. “I see that. Shows you’re serious about it. We work hard here, but we’re fair. I demand the best from my employees. And I don’t take well to attitude, though I’m open to suggestions on how to run things better.” He purses his lips. “Don’t suppose you have any experience?”

  “Nothing I should probably tell you about.” It’s probably a stupid thing to say, but it’s the truth.

  He chuckles. “Fair enough. You’re gonna have to prove yourself here. I’ll take you on a trial basis, and we’ll see how it goes from there. If you do well for the first ninety days, we’ll hire you on full time and include a small raise.”

  Fuck. Is he serious? “You’re…hiring me.”

  “Yup. Took a lot of guts to stay in here and humble yourself. That says that despite your checkered past, you have some level of integrity. If you want to make yourself better, I can’t deny you a chance to do so.” He pauses, then says, “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. I’ve gotten a helping hand more than a time or two. It’s good to pay that forward.”

  There’s a strange feeling in my chest. This man doesn’t know me except by the way I treated him in the past. Yet he’s a good person and he sees something in me worth taking a chance on.

  Not the bad, but the positive.

  That feeling I have in my chest…maybe it’s hope.

  “When do I start?” I ask.

  “Be here early tomorrow. We’ll get paperwork going by then. Bring your license with you. And if you like, bring a stub from your bank account and we can do direct deposit.” At the look on my face, he chuckles. “Okay, so maybe today you can go open a bank account. We don’t deal in cash here. All above the table—you’re gonna be paying taxes now.” He sticks out his hand to me. “Welcome aboard Miller Construction.”

  I shake it back and then leave the trailer, feeling odd, my brain spinning a mile a minute. Yeah, Butch has a bank account that I’ve used to pay the house bills, but I never bothered to get one for myself since my industry is—was—cash-based.

  In a matter of a couple of days, I’ve extracted myself from the illegal business and gotten a legit job. Butch will shit himself when he finds out. My brothers will mock me for being one of the working stiffs.

  The idea makes me grin.

  Fuck it. I don’t care what any of them have to say. They’re not the ones I’m trying to prove things to. I’m going to come in tomorrow and become the man I want to be. One who does shit the right way. Who doesn’t use his fists to solve problems. Who is dependable. Trustworthy. Who doesn’t make the woman he wants look at him in fear or disgust.

  And God help me, if I ever get another chance with Claire, this time I won’t fuck it up. But even if she never speaks to me again, at least I’ll have done everything I can to have a shot.

  Claire

  “Cheers!” I say to Rebecca as I tap my shot glass to hers. We take a big gulp and both flinch as the alcohol burns its way down to our stomach.

  We’re not really shot drinkers for the most part, but Rebecca got a raise at work today, so we’re celebrating at Foley’s Sports Bar. The bartender, wearing a tight referee shirt and tiny shorts, sweeps away the empty shot glasses.

  I shift on my stool and say to Rebecca, “I’m so proud of you. You work damn hard. I’m glad Callie recognizes that.” Rebecca’s been crazy about fashion for a long time. She always paired up the craziest outfits but somehow made them work on her. I kind of envy her effortlessness. Her fashion savvy has helped the boutique do better.

  She beams, her eyes hazy with liquor
. “Thanks! You know what? I’m proud of me, too.”

  My phone vibrates on the bar surface. I glance over and roll my eyes.

  “Let me guess.” Rebecca gives a drunken laugh. “It’s your mom, wanting to check on you and make sure your mean dad hasn’t said anything else mean.”

  A couple of weeks ago, I finally screwed up my courage and told my mom about not taking the exam. Turns out, Dad bitched about me to Sasha, and in turn, she warned Mom to not make me feel any worse.

  Well, since Dad is the most even man ever, according to my mom, she’s been all sympathy and charm to me. She even offered to help me pay Dad back, which I turned down so as not to find myself indebted to another parent. Lesson learned. Her personality change is so she can look like the better parent, no doubt, hoping word will get back to Dad about how magnanimous and forgiving she is. But I admit, it’s nice not having her ride my ass for once. Yay divorce.

  I type out a quick text to her that I’m doing fine, and no, I haven’t heard from Dad—I swear, Rebecca’s psychic or something—then toss my phone in my purse. “No more interruptions,” I declare. “We have hours of celebrating to do.”

  Rebecca groans. Her cheeks are flushed a delicate pink from the alcohol. “There’s no way I’m going to make it for much longer. I’m way lame.”

  I pat her face and smile. “You’re not lame. You’re just getting old.”

  She swats my arm. “You’re older than me, hag.”

  I pull a face. “Hag? You’re the one who looks drunk and wrecked.” Okay, I’m buzzed too, admittedly. We’ve done a few celebration drinks.

  “I do not. You lie.” She fluffs her hair. “One more shot and then I’m calling it quits. I have to work at the shop tomorrow. I can’t go in there all busted.”

  I order a round of pineapple upside down cake shots, and we destroy them. My whole body is glowing with the power of alcohol. Hoo boy, I’m going to regret this tomorrow, but you only live once, right? I’ve been trying to go out and pull myself from this funk I’ve been in the past couple of weeks.

  Since all the shit went down and my life plunged into the toilet.

  I should probably eat something. I pick up the food menu to distract my thoughts. Every time I let myself think about that night, I feel the same heated emotions roiling through me that I did then. The fear, the anger, the disappointment.

  And, admittedly, the loneliness.

  Things just don’t feel the same. It’s like I moved to a place where the sun doesn’t shine for six months, and I just started a half-year stretch of living in the dark.

  Boy, am I dramatic when I drink or what? I sigh and place an order for a massive pretzel with cheese.

  Rebecca grabs my upper arm, her eyes glassy. “Girl. I’m ripped. I gotta go home to bed before I turn into the puking kind of drunk.”

  “Go on,” I tell her, giving her a big hug. “I’m going to eat my pretzel and then take off, too.”

  “You’ll be careful going home?” We both took Uber here to be safe.

  “Absolutely. And congrats again. I’m glad we came out tonight. I needed it.”

  Her eyes turn serious. “I worry about you, Claire. This isn’t like you. He really did a number on you, didn’t he.”

  I bite my lower lip. I’m not going to be the drunk white girl crying in the middle of the bar. “Well, it’s in my past. I’m moving forward. And soon, my heart will catch up with me.”

  She kisses my cheek. “Text me when you get home. I mean, I’ll totally be passed out, but at least I’ll know you got there.”

  We laugh, and Rebecca leaves. A couple of minutes later, my pretzel arrives. I listlessly dunk the bread into the cheese. I’m not really hungry.

  Someone a couple of tables behind me gives a hearty, rolling laugh, and it sounds so much like Jamison that I almost turn around on instinct. Then I remember what Rebecca said, how I was going to see and hear him everywhere. I keep facing forward.

  Then I hear that unforgettable, melodic voice. I close my eyes and steady my erratic heart as best as I can.

  It’s really him. He’s here in Foley’s.

  Rock Bridge isn’t a booming metropolis. At some point, we were going to run into each other. But I don’t feel ready.

  I’m still upset. And here he is, laughing it up with someone. Is he on a date? Out with friends?

  Doesn’t matter. I’m not turning around. Even as the knot in my stomach feels like it’s about to expand to fill my entire torso.

  I stubbornly remain facing forward and force myself to chew the pretzel. Yum, I tell myself in an overly bright mental voice. This cheese sauce is delicious. Look at me, getting by and moving on without him.

  My throat tightens, and I can’t finish the last few bites. A fresh wave of frustration rolls over me. I gotta get out of here before I go over to his table and say something I’m going to regret. Still, I can’t help but wonder, has he noticed me sitting at the bar? Now that I know he’s here, it’s like my body has recalibrated north to him.

  And it pisses me off.

  I toss money on the bar and then slide off the stool. When I turn around, sure enough, Jamison is there a couple of tables away, in deep conversation with several guys, food and beer on their table. God, he’s still as gorgeous as ever, with that full head of hair and those endless eyes. The bastard. He’s waving his muscled, inked arms in the air and talking, and then the entire table guffaws.

  I remember when he used to make me laugh, used to focus his attention completely on me, and how amazing it felt.

  My cheeks begin to burn. I grab my purse and start to weave my way out of the bar.

  “Claire?”

  Oh shit, he noticed me. For a moment, I stumble in place, torn between going over and yelling at him and running away like a total idiot. But that stubborn buzzed anger hits me again. Because of him, my life got all kinds of screwed up.

  I turn my attention to him and stomp to his table. “You…you suck,” I declare.

  The entire table goes quiet, and they’re all staring at me and Jamison in undisguised interest.

  He sighs and peers up at me. “I know I do. But I want to talk. Can we go somewhere?”

  “No. I don’t want to interrupt your amazing night out.” Hoo boy, I sound like such a shrew. The words are just flying out of my mouth. But weeks of pent-up frustration are slamming back into me full force. I want him to know I’m still upset. Which is stupid as hell, because it doesn’t matter anymore if he knows my feelings.

  He stands and peels money out of his pocket, dropping it on the table. “Guys, I’m taking off.”

  I give him a heated glare and attempt to scrape together the last of my dignity. “Yeah, and me, too. Um. Bye.” Wow, this whole scene went really well. I sound like an idiot. My face is burning a path of heat down my throat and across my chest. I spin on my heels and stomp outside, willing myself to not look and see if he’s behind me.

  Shit. I still have to call for my Uber ride. Why didn’t I do that before I decided to make a total fool out of myself in front of everyone at the bar? Then at least I could have hopped in the car and taken off.

  Now I have to stand out here in the parking lot.

  I dig into my purse for my phone.

  “Claire.” Jamison’s voice is sharp as he says my name, and my body freezes at the command in his tone. He comes up to stand in front of me, towering over me, reminding me of all that coiled strength in his body.

  God, he smells so damn good. I forgot how good he smells. Stupid Jamison.

  “There is still nothing to say,” I toss out blithely.

  “Dammit, there is, and you know it.” He glances around the parking lot. “Where’s your car? You’re drunk. You shouldn’t drive like this. Let me take you home.”

  I thrust my chin in the air. “I didn’t drive here because I’m smart and I planned ahead. I’m just waiting for my Uber ride.”

  “Claire.” His voice turns soft and he steps toward me, crowding my space, making my skin
aware all over again of him. God, my lower belly tightens in response to his proximity.

  “You know what? I want to slug you right now,” I say heatedly. “But we both know that hitting people doesn’t lead to anywhere good.”

  “Fuck,” he growls and rakes a hand in his hair. He’s frowning hard at me. “I’m taking you home, Claire. I’m not leaving you like this.”

  “No.”

  He leans down until his mouth is just an inch from mine. I can feel the tension between us building. I’m being stubborn, obstinate, but dammit, I’m still mad. And hurt. And tired of feeling like I let him in under my skin.

  And I’m still attracted to him, despite everything, which makes me so much more furious. Because now that he’s here, this close to me, my body is feeling alive for the first time in weeks. My breasts are swelling, my nipples growing hard. My pussy is pulsing, and I can feel the telltale slickness in my panties.

  Jamison’s eyes narrow as he looks at me. “You’re so fucking gorgeous it hurts, Red.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I say, but the anger has leaked from my voice. In its place is the desire pulsing through me. Some small part of my foggy brain is whispering that I need to run away, but I can’t seem to make myself move.

  He reaches a hand out and strokes my cheek. “I’ve missed you. Let me take you somewhere. I’ll get you there safely. I promise. I haven’t had anything to drink.”

  I suck in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to go home.” I don’t know why I say that. And I don’t know why my voice is so damn husky.

  Actually, I do know.

  It’s because I’m on fire for him. He’s reignited me, an unexpected sunny day in a stretch of darkness. Is it any wonder my body is angling toward him like a flower to the sunlight?

  “Red, if you don’t stop staring at me like you want me to devour you, I’m going to take that sexy mouth of yours.” There’s a dangerous warning in his tone, a warning and a promise, as he eyes me.

  That makes my core squeeze tight. My face turns up of its own volition. And then before I know it, his hands are on me and his mouth is claiming mine, and I gasp against his lips. He tastes like soda and something uniquely Jamison, his tongue sliding along the roof of my mouth. There’s no easing into a kiss with him. No, he just possesses me fully.