Suddenly Beck: (A Hot & Sweet MM Romance Series) (Belong to Me Book 1)

by Vawn Cassidy

  He barks out a loud and honest laugh. ‘Yeah, I probably should’ve warned you, but she’s harmless.’

  ‘Yeah…’ I drawl out sarcastically. ‘Harmless… like an octopus.’ He laughs again. ‘Seriously the woman has freakishly strong hands for a seventy-year-old.’

  Beck shakes his head. ‘Molly’s place really is the nicest around here. Sexual harassment suits and groping OAPs aside, Bea runs a tight ship, and her daughter Lila is friends with my younger sisters.’

  ‘Would that be Juni and Joss?’ I ask curiously.

  ‘That’s right,’ he replies as he studies me.

  ‘She mentioned them the night I arrived, and someone called Quinn,’ I explain.

  ‘Ah.’ He nods. ‘Quinn’s my younger brother.’

  ‘Small world.’

  ‘Not in the bay.’ He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. ‘Trust me, everyone knows everyone. It was a nightmare trying to get away with anything in our formative years.’

  ‘How many of you are there?’ I ask, although Melanie has mentioned her kids, she didn’t go into detail, probably because she’s had her hands full with the mess at the restaurant.

  ‘Six,’ he answers with an easy smile. ‘Juniper and Jocelyn are twins, and the babies of the family; they’ve just turned eighteen. Quinn is twenty, and he’s usually at Uni in Exeter. Then there’s me and Jesse, and Reed, he’s the oldest.’

  ‘Wow, your parents liked to keep busy.’

  ‘Suckers for punishment I guess,’ he murmurs softly, his smile tainted with a hint of sadness, and I remember that he only lost his dad a year ago. ‘We gave them plenty of punishment over the years.’

  ‘I’ll bet.’ I smile as I add some more butter and garlic leaves to the saucepan and give it a little shake, listening to it sizzle before deftly slicing another lobster and setting it on the grill.

  ‘You got any sibs?’ Beck asks.

  ‘What?’ I look up. ‘Oh,’ I reply evasively. ‘Just the one, Sophia. She’s older and married, but we’re not close anymore.’

  ‘Anymore?’

  ‘We were as kids, but I guess we just grew apart.’ I shrug, really not wanting to talk about my family. ‘Do you want something to eat?’

  ‘Sure.’ He glances down at the grill as I turn the lobster. ‘What’s the special tonight?’ he asks.

  ‘Fish fingers.’ I glance up as my mouth curves.

  He blinks and laughs loudly.

  ‘Beck, stop flirting with my chef, he’s got work to do,’ Melanie calls across the restaurant, and I watch as he rolls his eyes. ‘And stop rolling your eyes at me,’ she adds without even looking up.

  ‘It’s like she has ESP,’ he sighs. ‘You have no idea what it was like growing up with that.’

  I smile, wondering what that must feel like, having a mother who bothered taking an interest. Suddenly, my mind catches up, and I freeze, ‘stop flirting with my chef….’ That would mean he’s… He winks at me before sauntering off across the restaurant, and just like that, the nerves are back again.

  I try not to think about it as the evening wears on and the crowd starts to pick up. Apparently, this is nowhere near as busy as it used to get at the height of its popularity, but word is starting to spread that Scott is gone, and some of the more hardcore customers who loved Melanie’s husband, Sully, are willing to give it another shot.

  Melanie ends up in the kitchen with me, and even Beck puts on an apron and picks up an order pad to help out. Evidently, he and his brothers and sisters have all worked in the restaurant at one time or another.

  Despite how busy it is, I feel Beck’s constant gaze on me, and whenever he swings by the kitchen to place an order, he’s full of dimpled smiles and witty banter, his eyes dancing as he laughs and jokes. I may not have any experience when it comes to guys, but I’d have to be an idiot to miss the fact he’s interested, and the hell of it is, I’m interested right back, he pushes all my buttons, even a few I wasn’t aware I had.

  I knew he was good looking that day on the beach, it’s hard to miss that gorgeous face and hot body, and with all that blonde hair tied up in a scruffy man bun, he looks more like he belongs on a beach in California that the rainy north coast of Cornwall, but more than that, he’s quick and witty, and really funny. There’s a kind of innate ease about him that relaxes my nerves.

  Then there’s that low sexy rumble of a voice, which just warms my belly among other things. Oh my god, I’m pathetic. I’m totally crushing on the guy, I can admit it. But it’s not the fact that I’m interested that’s making me nervous, it’s not even the fact he’s interested in return. What’s making me nervous is the fact, that for the first time in my life, I could do something about it if I wanted. If I was brave enough.

  Am I brave enough? Isn’t this the reason I ran away from my old life? What do you even do when you’re interested in a guy? Do I like ask him out for a drink or something? I suppose it’s really no different than dating a woman. But does he ask me? Do I ask him?

  Oh my god, I think I may actually be having a panic attack; I mean I’ve never actually had a panic attack before, but if I’d had one, I’m sure this is what it would feel like. Maybe I should boil some water and get some towels. No, wait a minute, that was what women did when giving birth… in the 1800s. I should sit down and put my head between my knees and just breathe… I should definitely just breathe.

  ‘Nat? Are you okay?’ Melanie’s voice cuts through my rambling inner monologue.

  ‘I, uh…’ I clear my throat. ‘I’m fine.’

  It’s been a long night.’ She smiles kindly. ‘I’ll finish cleaning the grill. Why don’t you go and mop the floor in the back kitchen, then call it a night, and I’ll lock up.’

  ‘Okay.’ I stare down at where I’ve been scrubbing the same spot on the grill for the past ten minutes.

  I glance out into the now empty restaurant and see Beck and the other waitresses picking up the chairs and cleaning the floor. Leaving them all to it, I head out into the back kitchen and prep area to retrieve the mop and bucket.

  Melanie’s right about one thing, I’m knackered. I’ve only been doing this job for a few days and my whole body aches. I guess I’m just going to have to get used to being on my feet for long periods of time, but despite the physicality of the job, I’ve never felt such bone deep satisfaction and I know I love it.

  I’m just finishing washing the floor when the door swings open. I turn to look, but my foot hits a wet patch and I lose my balance, but before I hit the ground, once again, I feel a pair of firm arms wrap around me. My momentum pulls him off balance too, and we crash against the huge stainless-steel fridge. One of his arms is wrapped around my waist and the other bracing our combined weight as he pins me up against the fridge door.

  For a second, I don’t breathe, my heart pounding against my ribs, and my cheeks flush as he stares down at me. His gaze dropping to my lips.

  ‘Why do I always seem to be rescuing you?’ he chuckles slowly.

  ‘Just lucky I guess,’ I murmur in embarrassment.

  He stares at me for a moment longer. ‘Those eyes,’ he mutters.

  I know what he’s talking about because it’s the one thing everyone comments on. How blue my eyes are against my almost black hair, it’s a striking combination. I know because my sister’s the same and she’s stunning.

  ‘Beck,’ I whisper startling him out of his contemplation.

  He blinks for a moment, almost like he’s coming out of a trance. ‘Nat,’ he rumbles, his eyes once again grazing my lips.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply, and oh my god, is he actually going to kiss me I wonder as my belly flops over in a mixture of excitement, nerves, and anticipation.

  ‘Nat,’ he repeats as I unconsciously lean closer. ‘In the interest of complete honesty,’ he murmurs. ‘I have to tell you I’m really attracted to you.’

  ‘Uh huh.’ I lean in a fraction closer, my own gaze dropping to his mouth. I wonder what he tastes like, what it wo
uld feel like to have his stubble grazing over my skin and an almost unconscious sigh leaves my lips. He’s so gorgeous.

  ‘But my mum will probably kill me if I hit on you,’ he says a little ruefully. ‘So, what do you say we try being friends?’

  ‘I…’ I blink, pulling back. ‘Wait, what?’

  He nods stepping back out of my personal space.

  ‘Yeah.’ He clears his throat. ‘I mean, I like you, you like me, we should be friends.’

  ‘Oh my god, have we just regressed back to Junior school?’ I reply dryly.

  He huffs out a laugh as he rubs his face tiredly, pulling open the fridge and retrieving a beer. ‘You want one?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ I reply primly as I edge past him. I don’t know what it is about me but the more annoyed I am, the posher I sound.

  Picking up the bucket, I cross the kitchen and empty it into the sluice sink by the cleaning cupboard, swallowing down a pang of disappointment.

  ‘Nat.’ He frowns. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No,’ I answer as I retrieve the mop from where I dropped it.

  Friends, I think silently in mortification. I’m such an idiot. While I had stupid little hearts circling my head like bloody Pepe le Pew, he just wants to be friends. Which is fine, I don’t have a problem with the friend’s part, what I don’t get is why he spent all evening flirting with me if he knew he never had any intention of following through. Embarrassment and confusion war with annoyance as I jam the mop into the cupboard and slam the door a little more forcefully than I intended.

  ‘Nat,’ Beck tries again.

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ I retrieve my jacket and yank my arms through the sleeves. ‘We can be friends, but it’s late, I’m tired and just want to go home to bed.’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ he replies as he watches me.

  I’ve just reached the door when annoyance wins out over embarrassment, and all my common sense seems to desert me as I impulsively decide two can play the mixed signals game.

  ‘Oh, there is one thing, Beck.’ I turn back toward him. ‘In the interests of complete honesty between friends, I should probably tell you that I’ve wanked over the thought of you every night for the past week.’ I smile sweetly at him as his mouth falls open, and the bottle slides from his lax fingers. Then I turn on my heel and sail out of the kitchen to the symphony of shattering glass and stunned silence.

  Chapter Seven

  Nat

  In the words of Jiminy Cricket, always let your conscience be your guide, unless your conscience is being an over-opinionated twat…

  My lungs are burning, and my mouth is dry. I can feel a bead of sweat rolling down my spine as I kick up the pace. More accustomed to pounding the concrete paths and asphalt roads in my urban jungle, running on sand is a completely new experience for me. I could blame the change of conditions for the fact that I’m wheezing like an eighty-year-old on crack or the fact that my traitorous body is protesting by making me feel like my muscles are on fire, but the truth is I’ve pushed myself harder and faster today than I usually would’ve, coupled with the fact I haven’t exercised in over a week. I haven’t run since I left London, and I’ve missed it, missed the headspace it puts me in and the clarity of thought it provides. Unfortunately for me, what has always been a necessary and welcome escape is now merely providing me with a distressingly clear view of my behavior last night.

  For god’s sake, what was I thinking? I drag in a laboured breath. The truth is I wasn’t thinking so much. I was a little hurt and a bit embarrassed. It had been pretty obvious all night we were both into each other, and I’d let my imagination run away with me only to have him slam on the brakes, which left me feeling a little rejected.

  I huff out a sigh as I slow my frantic pace to a jog. The truth is, he didn’t really do anything wrong, maybe he’s just a naturally flirty person, and as excuses go his had been a valid one.

  I’m a bit shocked that Melanie took a chance on me and gave me a job at the restaurant. Although she loved the roasted Brill with wild mushrooms and garlic I’d managed to throw together from the limited ingredients in the kitchen for my ‘audition’, it had to have been blatantly obvious that first night that I had no real experience in a restaurant environment. I kept expecting her to kick me to the curb and hire a real chef, which to be fair she could still do, but instead, she took me under her wing as a trainee chef. That first night, she spent all night in the kitchen with me, even though it had to have been painful for her since I know for a fact the last time she cooked in the restaurant had been with her husband. But every night since, she’s been there, allowing me to stretch my wings, but always there in case I stumble, and I’m really enjoying learning from her. There’s something so warm and comforting about Melanie, and I find myself wanting to do my best for her. So, I guess that if she really doesn’t want me getting involved with her son, I can’t really argue with that.

  I do, however, owe someone an apology.

  I almost groan out loud. Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut? I remind myself of the promise I made when I started this little rebellion, that whatever decisions I made, I would own them. Was what I said to Beck true? Yes… yes, it was. Should I have said it? Probably not, but it’s out there now. He knows I want him, and I’m pretty sure he wants me too; however, I think we’re both pretty much on the same page when it comes to his mum. So, I guess, friends it is. With that thought firmly in mind, I resolve myself to apologising to Beck next time I see him, which hopefully won’t be anytime soon.

  Unfortunately, fate it seems has other ideas. As I head further down the beach, I see a familiar figure leaning against the wooden railings outside the surf school, a mug of what I assume is coffee in one hand and wearing a wetsuit, which is unzipped to the waist, with the arms tied around his middle, leaving his chest and arms bare.

  I try not to swallow my tongue as I stare at his muscled torso and all that bare skin, his chest dusted with a light swath of fair hair. His hair is loose this time, hanging around his shoulders and rippling in the soft breeze.

  As his gaze turns in my direction, I deliberately look away and pick up my pace once again. I run straight past the surf school, which despite the huge, brightly coloured sign mounted to its left is really just a large shack, with a rack of surf boards lined up outside with military like precision, and pretend that I haven’t seen him, even though I’m sure I’m not imagining his gaze burning a hole between my shoulder blades.

  Good job owning your mistakes, my inner Jiminy Cricket picks that exact moment to insert his opinion, and I stop running abruptly, skidding to an almost comical halt in the sand. For a moment, I don’t move, breathing heavily with my hands on my hips as I close my eyes and lift my face to the sky, groaning quietly because Jiminy, despite being a disturbing figment of my imagination, is in actual fact correct, and as much as I really don’t want to admit it, it’s time to pay the piper.

  Turning around slowly, my gaze locks on Beck who is watching me with those fascinating hazel eyes. He lifts his mug to his lips and sips slowly, his expression almost a dare.

  Straightening my spine and gritting my teeth, I march purposefully over to him, stopping and looking up as he continues to lean on the railing separating the concrete promenade from the sand about a metre above me.

  ‘Beck,’ I greet him politely.

  He stares at me, and for a second, I’m sure I see a flash of heat in his gaze. ‘Nat,’ he finally replies in that low gravelly voice that makes my dick twitch.

  I draw in a determined breath. ‘I wanted to apologise for last night,’ I begin a little stiffly. ‘I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was a cheap shot; I was tired and feeling a bit prickly, and what you said rubbed me up the wrong way.’

  ‘Oh, Nat.’ His mouth curves slowly, revealing those sexy dimples as his eyes darken. ‘I’d love to rub you up the wrong way.’

  A helpless laugh bubbles out of me, and I relax a little. ‘I’m sure you would.’ I smile in amusement. ‘
And believe it or not, the feeling’s mutual.’

  Beck places his mug down, balancing it on the thick squared off railing, before grasping the wood easily and sliding underneath it to drop effortlessly onto the sand in front of me.

  I take a reluctant step back as I continue, ‘But the truth is, you have a point about Melanie. Your mum’s been good to me. She didn’t have to take a chance on me and give me a job, and I won’t do anything that would make her unhappy, she’s got enough to deal with right now.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he sighs in resignation. ‘It’s not often I get cock blocked by my own mother, but as it doesn’t happen often, I should probably respect the boundaries.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’ I nod a little regretfully.

  ‘Look,’ he begins. ‘I meant what I said, I really do want to get to know you, and I’d like us to be friends.’

  ‘I’d like that too.’ I smile genuinely.

  I’ve never really had any real friends. I’ve had acquaintances, the spoiled offspring of those in my mother’s and father’s social sphere. I’ve had the people I worked with, who were never really interested in getting to know me. I always got the feeling they just tolerated me, resentful of the fact that I was rather young and inexperienced to be promoted to manager over much more qualified and long-standing employees. Despite my ability and competence, we all knew I got the job simply because of who my father was. I couldn’t blame them though, if I was in their shoes, I’d have probably hated me too. In fact, there were days when I had hated myself, albeit for a very different reason.

  ‘Friends?’ He holds out his hand.

  ‘Friends.’ I nod as I reach out and grasp his hand, sucking in a sharp breath as another little zip of static electricity sparks between our palms.

  His mouth quirks as his gaze drops to my running shoes. ‘Those pesky rubber soles again?’

  I let out a laugh and the knot in my belly begins to relax.

  ‘Do you surf?’ Beck asks impulsively.