Page 93 of Seven Summers Ago
While he continues taking his aggression out on the darts, I twirl my glass. The whiskey and ice swishing around distracts me until Beck lets out a grunt. I glance up at him and take another sip of my drink.
Tonight, he’s a lot like I remember him. Maybe not in the gray sweats and the 1988 Willie Nelson “On the Road Again Tour” T-shirt. But somehow, the style still suits him.
His hair is a little messy after his shower and flops back over his ears every time he pushes it away. The brown in his eyes change in different lighting, just like Charlie’s do. Right now, under the half-lit florescent bar lights, they’re more chestnut brown. But out in the sun, they have golden undertones.
As he focuses on his next throw, he bites on his lower lip. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it. But I know he doesthis when he concentrates on something. I used to think it was sexy. And dammit, I still do.
Which is downright silly. Except this is Beck. My first love. My husband.
And is it so wrong to be attracted to my husband?
28
BECK
Rosie’s green eyes take on a sultry hue beneath the bar lights. They draw me in while she peers at me over her glass. My skin heats under her intense gaze and I can’t seem to resist staring right back at her.
She’s killing me right now with how tempting she looks sitting atop the pool table, pushing her disheveled auburn hair away from her face and sipping her whiskey. Rosie dressed in a pair of my dad’s boxer shorts and a worn black Wranglers T-shirt should be a turnoff. But instead, the view of her is sucking me in.
She bends a knee and rests her leg on the pool table, causing the shorts to ride up further and reveal even more tanned skin. The way the oversized shirt is slipping off one lightly freckled shoulder is distracting and sexy as hell. She’s gotta know what she’s doing to me.
At last, I break eye contact and return my focus on the dart board while the music fills the dead air between us. I throw a couple more darts, but my head is spinning. Being back in Rosie’s presence has me questioning all life’s choices.
What if I hadn’t been so stubborn? What if she hadn’t left? What if I’d known about Charlotte sooner?
But the thought of Charlie evokes irritation, and my shoulders tighten. I abandon the darts in the board this time and turn to face Rosie. The whiskey must be working its magic because she appears relaxed, content even.
“So the boyfriend,” I say, using the word choice purposefully. It gets a little scoff from her but this time she doesn’t correct me.Hmm, progress maybe. “Is he good to Charlotte?”
“Of course,” she hisses. “I would never be with someone if they didn’t treat her right. Never.”
“Good, good.” I shake my head, not really sure where I’m going with this. Yeah, I wanna know, but I don’t want to piss her off again. Especially when we called another truce. “And she…likes him?”
Rosie shifts so she’s sitting cross-legged, drawing my attention to her bare skin that’s been kissed with freckles. I fight back a groan as my dick twitches in my pants, and I fold my lips in between my teeth.
“She does,” she answers. “But she hasn’t fully let her guard down around him yet. It takes her a while to trust someone enough to be herself around them. I suppose that’s my fault. We didn’t stay in one place long enough for her to build steady relationships. Not until now.”
“So now, withhim…it’s permanent?” This time I don’t intentionally emphasize my words, but I can’t help it. Because even though I’ve never met him, I know he’s not right for Charlie. Or for Rosie.
“I did say yes when he proposed.”
I move across the room and decide it’s safer to create distance. I lean my back against the pool table across from the one she’s sitting on. “But you’re not married.” I point out.
“Well, no. Not yet.” She purses her lips. “Because I’m still married to you.”
I cross one ankle over the other and smirk. “Oh, right. That.”
“Yeah, that,” she deadpans.
We lock eyes again and I dare to ask, “You sure he’s right for you?”
She tears her gaze away from me and dips her chin. “You don’t get to ask me that, Beck. You lost those privileges.”
“Fine. You’re right. But I have the right to ask about Charlie,” I say. She whips up her head, worry smearing her expression. “Is he right for her?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No, what’s not fair is finding out I have a kid six years after she was born.”
