Page 48 of Redemption

Holy shit. I can’t believe I just threatened him! Don’t get me wrong; it’s long overdue, and I won’t take it back, but my lord, I didn’t think I had it in me. As much as I’d like to pretend I’m not afraid of Sebastian, you can’t just reverse over a decade of psychological warfare by creating a little distance. There’s complete silence on the other line. I don’t know why I’m still entertaining this conversation, but I check to see if the call is still connected.

It is.

I clear my throat. “Lose this number, Sebastian. If I never talk to you again, that’ll be too soon.”

I hang up before he has a chance to reply. Ugh! I throw my phone on the mattress and pull my bathrobe over my shoulders. I’ll never go back to sleep now, so there’s no point in trying. I can smell the coffee brewing in the kitchen, so I might as well head down there and get some. I storm out of my room and come to a grinding halt when I reach the top of the stairs. At the bottom, leaning against the wall, lazily sipping a cup of coffee, is none other than Beckett Armstrong.

He raises a single brow at me in a challenge. Oh, screw him. I’m not going to let him stop me from getting my cup of liquid gold.

“Excuse me.” I give him a get out of my way look. “I need caffeine.”

To my surprise, Beck steps aside, allowing me entry into the kitchen. I grab a mug from the cabinet, pour some French Roast into the cup, and add a healthy amount of milk and sugar. I can feel him behind me, watching my every move. After taking my first sip, I turn around to face him.

“What are you doing here?” I look at the clock on the microwave. “Don’t you have work to do or somethin’?”

That’s the thing about running a ranch. There are no days off. Not really. The animals depend on you to care for them. The best you can hope for is to be on-call one or two days a week and not be needed. That’s what Beck’s dad did while we were growing up. Beckett never was afraid of hard work, though.

He sets his mug on the counter before leaning against it, ankles casually crossed in front of him. He’s no more than two feet away, and I’m fairly certain that was intentional. “You okay, Pres?”

“I’m fine.” I lift my chin. “Now, answer my question. Why are you here? Why are you drinkin’ my parents’ coffee instead of your own?” I look around. “Speaking of... where are they?”

Beck inclines his head toward the window that overlooks the front of the house. “They went for a ride to catch the sunrise.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here at six-thirty on a Saturday morning.”

He gives me his all-knowing smile. “I have a standing invitation to join your mom for coffee every morning. When I got here, she was just heading to the stables but told me to help myself like I always do.”

My mouth gapes. “Wait... what? Why? Since when?”

His mouth kicks up in the corner. “Can I answer one question before you bombard me with twenty more?”

I set my coffee down and make a hurry-up gesture with my hand. “By all means.”

“Since I got back.”

I narrow my eyes. “I haven’t seen you in the house once in the three weeks I’ve been here.”

“That’s because your mom asked me to give you some space.”

“And that’s no longer the case?” When Beck shakes his head, I add, “Why’s that?”

He searches my eyes for a moment before replying. “Because I’m done giving you space, and I told her as much. You’ve had more than enough by now, don’t you think?”

I rest my elbows on the counter behind me. “Shouldn’t I have a say in this?”

Beck’s gaze drops, and when I look down, I see why. The belt on my robe loosened just enough to reveal the thin tank top I wore to bed. Of course, my traitorous nipples are saluting him again. I pull my robe closed and tie the belt in a double knot, which only seems to amuse him.

I snap my fingers in front of my face. “My eyes are up here, Beckett.”

“I’m well aware, Presley.” His full lips form into a cocky grin as he taps his temple. “Every inch of you is stored up here. Well... almost every inch.”

I huff, completely ignoring the implication about my breasts. That comment should piss me off because there was nothing gentlemanly about it, but my stupid hormones disagree. The moment the words left Beck’s mouth, I had to stop myself from leaning into him so he could feel me up like a horny teenager. After listening to Sebastian spouting insults and threats earlier, the last thing I should want is for anyone to touch me. Lord, my head’s a mess of contradictions right now.

“Whatever. If you won’t leave, I’ll take my coffee in the bedroom.”

Before I get the chance to walk away, he asks, “Who were you talking to earlier?”

Did he hear my conversation with Sebastian? I wasn’t exactly quiet now that I think about it. Crap. How am I supposed to explain that?

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