Page 65 of Spicy Ever After
I lower my hand from my face and peek at Beck, forgetting all about being embarrassed. Because Beck is a good person. He’s a kind person. And he deserves kindness in return. And it must’ve hurt to get that from his dad after he’d tried so hard to help him.
It makes me want to pull him into my arms, but I’m worried about someone else I know seeing us and having a hissy fit.
Still, I can’t help reaching out and laying a hand in the middle of his chest.
It’s quite a nice chest.
I can feel the thump of his heart. It quickens beneath my touch, and I wonder if he doesn’t like this or if I should’ve asked for consent like I did with the kiss.
But then his hand flattens over mine, and he presses my palm just a little harder against him.
And that’s nice too.
“See? This is why,” he murmurs.
I blink, tearing my gaze away from our hands. And the warmth in his amber eyes makes my own chest burn just a little. Like someone turned up the heat in his already toasty gaze.
“Why what?”
Beck licks his lips, and for a moment, all I can think about is how his mouth tastes, and how I’d very much like to taste it again.
“Why I was hanging onto the thought of seeing you again. Being around you? It feels good.”
A shiver that is the opposite of cold rolls over me. It touches every nerve ending. “Being around you feels good too.” I barely recognize my voice. It’s like I’ve just swallowed a mouthful of buttery maple syrup.
Seriously, I feel like I’ve woken up from the most delicious nap.
Beck smiles, but there’s something in it holding it back from full brightness. “I?—”
Taylor Edwards’ “Call Your Sister” peals from my phone, making us both jump.
“That’s my?—”
“Sister?” Beck smirks at me, and it’s really cute. I’d like to keep staring at him, but Taylor Edwards won’t shut up.
I reach into my pocket. I know why she’s calling. Ms. Alicia’s already gotten to her. So I should probably answer.
I accept the call and put the phone to my ear. “Margaret, I’m fine,” I announce.
Okay, maybe I shout it.
Silence.
Then, “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Margaret’s words are measured, careful. “Merrick’s mom called and?—”
“And she’s a nosy busy-body who lives to wreck first dates.”
My sister sighs heavily over the phone. “That’s—okay, that’s fair, but?—”
“She told Beck I wasn’t independent.”
Silence.
“I’m assuming Beck is your date?”
I blink up at him. I hadn’t exactly forgotten he was there, but my irritation at this second interruption—one that’s obviously just a tributary of the first—sort of carried me away. But now that I search Beck’s face, it’s clear that he can hear what we’re saying, and he’s paying close attention.
I squeeze his hand, and I’m so damn grateful when he squeezes back.
