Page 20 of One Pucking Heart

Yeah, that won’t be happening, but we’ll discuss that later. Right now, it’s time to eat.

Picking up one of the deep-fried rings, I place it on the appetizer plate along with a cup of ranch and pass it over to Elena. “Now, many people eat calamari with marinara sauce, and I’m telling you now, that’s crap. Calamari must be dipped in ranch but not the bottled shit, authentic homemade ranch.”

She puckers her lips and raises a brow. “Authentic ranch?”

“Yes, I am somewhat of a ranch connoisseur, and I’m telling you there is a huge difference between bottled and freshly made ranch. I won’t touch the bottled stuff.”

“I didn’t know there were such things as ranch connoisseurs.” She chuckles.

“Would you just dip the fried squid in the ranch and eat it already?”

With a grin, she does as instructed. I watch expectantly as she chews. After a few seconds, she gives me a smile and a thumbs-up.

“Right?” I pick up another calamari ring and dip it in a cup of ranch before plopping it into my mouth. I release a groan, “So good.” I finish chewing. “Just for future reference, the rings are where it’s at. The leggy clumps some places serve aren’t my favorite. I love thick, meaty rings, and they shouldn’t be too chewy.” I motion toward the plate between us. “I mean, these are perfect. If you order them somewhere else and they don’t look and taste like this, they’re subpar.”

She takes another bite. “Good to know. But seriously, these are so good.”

“See? There will be some advantages to being married to me.”

“Yeah, you can show me all sorts of new things. It could be fun.”

She has no idea how fun it could be, but if I have anything to say about it, she’ll find out.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ELENA

Standing outside Beckett’s car, I peer up at my old home. Beckett’s right, it’s a mansion—there’s no other way to describe it. It never felt as big as it looks right now. At eighteen and pregnant, I left and never turned back. I guess time brings a little perspective to everything.

The expansive home with all of its elaborate stonework has had some updates in the past two decades, enough that when I look at the house, I feel no connection to it. I spent sixteen years here with my mother, whom I loved. I sat at her bedside when she was ill and said goodbye within those walls, and still, I feel nothing—no shadow of nostalgia or warmth from a happy memory. My mind has blocked this place out for more reasons than one. The brain is a miraculous work of art, and it tries to protect us from that which wants to cause us harm. Memories from this place could’ve sunk me. Instead, my body sheltered me from the pain—suppressing the horrors so deep within my mind that I can’t find them.

Still—I tremble. My entire body shakes with nerves. I’m terrified to see my father. All these years later and he scares the crap out of me.

“Hey.” Beckett rubs his hands up and down my arms. Despite the eighty-degree day, I’m covered in goose bumps. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll be with you every minute. We’re just getting all the official legal stuff out of the way regarding your father’s estate, and then we’re getting out of there.”

I swallow the emotion lodged in my throat. “Yeah.” My voice is weak and hoarse.

Beckett tilts my chin up and holds my eyes with his. “You’re safe. He has no control over you. Remember why we’re here. Sign the papers so you can do good things with that money. In and out.”

My heart races beneath my chest walls, and I feel faint. Beckett leans in, his lips a flutter away from my own. “In case he’s watching?” he whispers against my lips.

I nod, and his soft lips find mine. The second he kisses me, my body goes limp, falling against his. He holds me tight against his hard chest. At this moment, I realize it wasn’t because I hadn’t been kissed in years. It was because I hadn’t been kissed by Beckett. His lips possess a magical quality, giving me exactly what I need. Before, outside of work, the kiss calmed me while firing me up to be brave enough to agree to this ruse.

Now, his kiss brings me a sense of calm and security. With each swipe of his tongue against mine, my fears diminish. I work my hands up his back until my fingers thread through his short hair at the nape of his neck. I pull him closer, and he moans into my mouth. The sound causes my heart to race for an entirely different reason.

The kiss is seductive and demanding. It’s hard and soft all at once. It fills me with resolve to face what I’m about to do while luring me into a space of contentment I never want to leave. It’s a dichotomy of emotions—simultaneously driving me mad while bringing me peace. As Beckett would say, his kisses are to die for, but they also give me life.

I cradle his face with my hands and move my lips against his. My lips ache with pleasure, and I never want this kiss to stop. But it has to.

Beckett pulls away. Resting his forehead against mine, he breathes heavily. “That should convince him.”

“Yeah,” I agree, clinging to his biceps.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I sigh.

He takes a step back and extends his hand. I thread my fingers through his. “Come on, fiancée.” He shoots me a grin, and I can’t help but mirror it.

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