Page 68 of Spicy Ever After
We lie on our backs, side by side, laughing until we are breathless and watery-eyed.
Beck turns on his side to look at me, wiping the heel of his hand against his eyes. “Grandma Eloise may be… what you said… but Margaret seems cool.”
The laughter has left me loose and carefree. I smile from my very heart. “She’s pretty much my favorite person.”
One parenthesis curls itself around his smile. “Good. I like that she looks out for you.”
I blink.
Wait.
Looks out for me?
“Why do you say that? Do you think I can’t look out for myself?”
“Didn’t say that.” He leans in, and before I know what’s happening, he kisses me on the nose. I startle. It reminds me of the time a butterfly landed on my cheek. A light flutter of brilliance and then it was gone.
“Everyone needs somebody to have their back. Griffin’s got mine. I’m glad Margaret has yours.”
“Oh… Okay.”
He draws in a long breath and then winces. “Speaking of Griffin, I probably should get back to him soon.”
My heart squeezes so hard, the force travels through my hands. I only realize my grip has tightened on Beck’s when he squeezes back. I’m not ready for this to be over.
I’m also really worried that now that he’s gone on a Hell-Yes-It’s-a-Real-Date-Coffee-Date with me that featured interruptions, tears, a physical shutdown, and an intervention call from my sister, he might think twice about asking me out again.
But then, by some miracle, Beck squeezes my hand tighter and says, “I want to see you again.”
“You do?” I blurt.
He laughs. “Hell, yes, I do.”
And Hell-Yes-I-Do might have just replaced Hell-Yes-It’s-a-Real-Date-Coffee-Date as my favorite phrase.
“That’s what I was trying to say earlier. Right before your sister called. I want to see you again.” His brows lower, like he’s about to give me bad news. “But it’ll be a while before I can do it right. Like I said. With wine, and candlelight, and dinner.”
I shake my head. “Wine is gross. And my favorite meal of the day is brunch, so if there are rules about doing it right, we can break them.”
His low chuckle is so damn sexy.
“Okay.” He nods. “What do you think about coming to see me out at the farm? Maybe Tuesday afternoon?”
“I-I’d like that.”
“Yeah?” Amber sparkles. “Me too. I break for lunch around one. But we could make it a late brunch. Do you like omelets?”
“I love omelets.” Wow. Why can’t I catch my breath? “A-and I can bring something… Like a baked brie or some chocolate croissants.”
His brows climb. He’s still smiling, but now it doesn’t match his eyes. “Posh…Okay…You do realize I’m just a sweet potato farmer, right?” Beck tilts his head like he’s ninety-percent teasing.
And ten percent not.
I frown. Why ten percent not?
“I know you’re a sweet potato farmer,” I say, feeling dumb since I suspect I’m missing something, but I don’t know what.
He shakes his head. “I mean—don’t go to any trouble. I’m used to simple.”
