Page 21 of Dirty Ginger

7

The next morning, Amelia stared down at the crumbs on her small plate from her cheese croissant, waiting and wondering if regret would suddenly surface after what happened with Beckett last night. It never came. Something else didn’t come either – guilt. Shouldn’t there be some of that? Sure, Luka left her at the altar and embarrassed her in front of everyone, but she’d loved him and had planned a life with him. Why wasn’t she feeling horrible for making out with Beckett so soon after her breakup? And why was Beckett on her mind all the time? Thoughts of his sweet tongue and delicious pleasure kept her thinking of him all morning. His throaty voice stuck in her ear, raising goosebumps along the skin he’d touched. The way he commanded her body like he owned her made her shiver.

She didn’t know this Beckett. She knew the young, wild Beckett who took her virginity. Then she knew a more distant side of Beckett after his mother and grandfather died. A Beckett who gave up on his dreams of the rodeo and had taken a giant step back from her. The man that touched her yesterday didn’t feel like the one who told her there was distance between them and he couldn’t give her what she wanted. Hell no, he was strong and solid, every spectacular inch of him. But what stayed on her mind most was his sweet gesture with the movie. That was a Beckett she did know. One who thought of her instead of himself, remembered the little things, and knew her more than anyone else. She’d forgotten that about him. How much he paid attention, and how he went out of his way to make her happy. She really missed that. Luka didn’t even know dill pickle was her favorite chip flavor. Maybe Luka hadn’t known her that well at all.

Deciding to get her day going and not let anything interrupt her getting her brewery back in order, she set to cleaning up. As she finished washing her plate, she heard the rumble of a truck coming up her driveway, followed by a few more. She quickly set the plate in the drying rack, then dried her hands on the towel resting over the stove’s handle. By the time she opened the front door, two more trucks were coming up the driveway. Her heart sank in her throat, hoping Penelope hadn’t forgotten to cancel any of the brewery tours.

The worry was short lived as she spotted Beckett’s truck leading the group, and then noticed two of the other trucks had Blackshaw Horse Training written on them.

“What’s going on?” she asked the moment Beckett exited his truck.

“Help.”

She blinked, processed, but still felt lost. “Sorry, help with what exactly?”

He reached her at her porch steps, giving her a bright smile that she’d like to think she had a hand in. “Yesterday you said that you needed to get your tanks cleaned up.” He gestured back with a flick of his chin at the three cowboys behind him. “Nash didn’t mind us coming here to help you get settled.”

Her heart overflowed with emotions, and she placed a hand on her chest to keep her heart from beating right out of her chest. “I can’t accept help.”

Beckett’s brows knitted. “Why not?”

“Because it’s just too much. You guys have your own stuff going on. Seriously, thank you, but this is way too much.”

Beckett watched her closely for a long moment before he headed up the two steps to stand directly in front of her, heating up the air with him. Her heart raced for a whole different reason now, as he said, “This isn’t the time to feel bad. You need the help. It’s here. Take it.”

She stared into the warm comfort in his gaze, realizing she truly did need the help. “You’re really sure Nash okayed this?”

Beckett gave a firm nod. “Of course, Amelia, we’ve got your back.”

Without thought, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight, and he enveloped her in his strong arms. “Thank you for this, Beckett. It’s truly above and beyond.”

He dropped his head into her neck, and she swore she heard his long inhale before he said, “No thanks required.” He leaned away but didn’t release her, hitting her with that sparkling grin again. “The boys love your beer, so it only benefits them to get the spoiled beer out and good beer back in”

She became lost in the strength in his eyes. Truth was, she never allowed herself to look too hard at Beckett, not fully trusting her heart while she was with Luka. She certainly saw all of him now, and she really liked the man he’d become, and how much he helped her whenever he could.

“I see this is becoming a habit.”

Amelia jerked away at hearing Clara’s voice, though Beckett’s hands stayed firmly on her hips. A flurry of reasons popped into her mind to explain their embrace, but she gave up and just ignored Clara’s dig. “Beckett brought some of the guys over to help clean out the tanks.”

“Yes, I heard,” she said, giving Beckett an inquisitive look.

Amelia felt the tension thicken in the air and decided to get Clara and Beckett as far away from each other as possible. “Hey guys,” she called to the group of cowboys. They all turned her way. One of the men she knew from high school. “I really appreciate you helping out today. You’ve got no idea how much this will help get me back on track. Lunch and beers are on us.”

Hooting and hollering followed as Mason, her six-year-old nephew, who was turning seven in a few short months, ran for Amelia. Beckett moved out of the way right as Mason flew at her. She caught him in her arms, giving him a big hug. “I’ve missed you so much, buddy.”

“Me too, Aunty Amelia.”

She leaned away. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I have a day off so teachers can do paperwork and stuff.” He grinned before taking off toward the cowboys, heading into the brewery.

Beckett chuckled. “I take it that means it’s time to work.” He glanced between Amelia and Clara, winked and flicked his cowboy hat. “See ya in there.”

Amelia swallowed the heat simmering in her core and nodded. “I’ll be along in one second.”

His panty-melting grin was the last thing she saw before he walked away. As soon as he was out of earshot, she whirled around to Clara. “You are being seriously rude. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Clara crossed her arms, frowning. “Protective, not rude.”

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