Page 34 of Promise To Marry You
I’m in the kitchen stirring pasta sauce on the stove when he walks in.
“Something smells good,” he says as he reaches the kitchen. After washing his hands, he comes over to stand behind me, leaning over my shoulder. “Is that your puttanesca sauce?”
I nod, distracted by the outline of his body faintly brushing against mine. It’s just enough to stir up memories of my early morning wake up.
“I finished at the community center quickly, so I figured I’d get some groceries.” I shoot him a glance over my shoulder. “You were almost out of coffee, and we both know that would be a tragedy.”
Beck steps back and chuckles before opening a cabinet above the fridge, pulling out a brand-new bag of coffee beans. “Do you really think I’d let that happen?”
I roll my eyes, smiling. “Guess not.”
“All good, now we have backup coffee.”
The way he sayswe, so casually and so effortlessly, makes it sound as if he sees me being here for a long time. I realize I like that idea.
Turning to another cabinet, he pulls out a bottle of red wine. “Up for some?”
I nod, and he opens it and pours a generous glass, then hands it to me.
“This is from a local winery that just opened a couple of years ago. It’s Mom’s favourite. Our cousin Leo is good friends with the owner.”
I take a sip and hum with pleasure as the sharp, full taste hits my tongue. “Wow, that’s good.” I take another drink, then lean against the counter. “Is Leo happy living here?”
Beckett’s watching me, his eyes dark and heavy. “Yeah, he got married to his high school sweetheart after reuniting with her when he moved back. They had no idea of the ties they both had to Dogwood Cove.”
The wordmarriedhangs in the air between us.
Part of me wants to put on the brakes. Things seem to be changing and shifting in our relationship. Then again, I also want to dive in headfirst to whatever Beckett’s offering.
Because one thing is becoming crystal clear the more I watch him, the more I think about the small moments, forehead kisses and all.
Beckett wants me. And I want him. Physically, at least. Anything more is still fucking terrifying to consider.
The question is, can we risk it and give in to that want?
I dish up our dinner and carry the bowls of pasta over to the table. He pulls out my chair, sliding it in with a brush of his hand across my back, making me shiver.
As we eat, he masterfully steers the conversation into neutral territory, asking me about the mural. I become engrossed in sharing my ideas, and my obvious excitement for the project bleeds through. When I finally stop talking after telling him all about the panorama scene of the local coastline I got approval to paint, he’s leaned back in his chair, holding his wine glass and smiling softly at me.
“It’s going to be amazing, Cam. The town is lucky to have your talent.”
I duck my head in a very uncharacteristic move. It’s not that I don’t believe I’m a skilled artist, or that I haven’t heard Beckett compliment my work before. But again, everything is changing.
“It’s all thanks to you and your mom for setting it up,” I murmur. “You’re making it easy to fall in love with this town.”
Though it should be impossible, I swear, his chestnut eyes darken even more.
“Good,” he rumbles, then stands up, stretching his arms overhead. “Dinner was delicious, thanks. I’m gonna go for a run. Want to join me?”
“No, I’ll clean up and then probably sketch some more. I need to figure out a colour palette and supplies list within the next few days.”
Beckett nods, then heads out of the kitchen. I let out a loud exhale and slump in my chair, only to startle upright when I hear his voice again.
“If you’re planning on sharing my bed again tonight, then you should know I normally sleep naked when there’s a beautiful woman next to me.”
My mouth falls open, and I can’t help but stare after him as he winks at me, then saunters out of the kitchen again.
What. The. Hell.
