Page 45 of Flare

He nodded. “Stupid, I know. I’m forty years old. I shouldn’t give a fuck anymore, right? But sometimes I’m still that kid, you know?”

Did I ever.“Yeah, well, I’ve got a few scars myself, so I get it.”

He waited for me to explain, but there was no way I was ready for that particular conversation yet. “I happen to like the beard,” I admitted. “Do you mind?” I lifted my hand and waited this time.

He nodded, wriggled closer, and I buried my fingers in all that thick hair, sliding along his jawline and watching his pupils dilate at my touch. There was no way this was anything less than a caress, and we both knew it. I tried to give a fuck, but nope, the bag was empty.

I didn’t mess around like this. I didn’t mess aroundat all. But Beck called to something in me I found hard to fight.‘Why not give him a shot?’My fingers reached his lips and I rested a single one over the scar and left it there.

Beck shuddered and caught my eye, then his gaze flicked over my shoulder and he jerked away as the server reappeared.

She looked between us with a knowing smile. “I should’ve guessed. Two handsome men together. Too good to be true, right? Can I get either of you another beer?”

Beck glanced at the clock, then at me. “One more?”

I nodded, keeping my gaze firmly fixed on him. “A quick one. Cooper’s Lite, please.”

Beck glanced at the server. “Make that two. I’m driving.”

She nodded. “I’ll be right back. You can pay at the bar on your way out.” She tucked her notebook in her pocket and left.

Returning to my inspection, I tipped Beck’s face from one side to the other and then dropped my hand and pursed my lips, looking serious.

Beck frowned. “What? You can’t do all that and then say nothing.”

I quirked a brow. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t want some prissy fashion boy’s opinion.”

“Come on, out with it.” An odd expression crossed his face and I just knew he was thinking the worst.

“Stop that.” I narrowed my gaze.

“What?”

I stabbed a finger at him. “Whatever’s going on in that head of yours because, for what it’s worth, solely from a designer’s standpoint and bearing in mind the factI likehow you look already, see aforementioned sexy-as-fuck comment—”

He rolled his eyes.

“—I think your beard would look even better with a little bit off the length.” I held my thumb and forefinger slightly apart and then widened the gap until his eyes popped and I knew I’d hit the hard-limit line.

He arched a brow. “And this is your professional opinion?”

I nodded sagely. “It is. I do this for a living, you know. You’ve got a great jawline, Beck. Shame to hide it. I think when you look in the mirror, you still see that struggling kid, not the gorgeous man you are now.”

His ears blushed, and thankfully the server took that moment to reappear with our order before I was tempted to touch them just for the hell of it.

I grabbed my fresh beer and held it up. “Here’s to the resilience of kids.” We clinked bottles and I tried not to stare as Beck’s throat worked around a long mouthful—tightness in my briefs an uncomfortable reminder of just how dangerous this little flirtation was becoming. This short time with Beck had raised more red flags than I knew what to do with.

Why did Hunter even think I was ready for this?

But the conversation thankfully turned to lighter themes, and we finished our beers talking about Beck’s work, his favourite classes—his third-year and doctoral students—and the first-year students who alternately drove him up the wall and had him crying with laughter.

As he talked, I fell further under the spell of those earnest hazel eyes, his undeniable love for teaching lighting up the space between us. Gone was the quiet, gruff, and hesitant man I’d first met.Thispassionate Beckett Northcott was all kinds of interesting and pretty damn breath-taking. And if this was what Beck took to the classroom, along with his epic poetry recitation skills, his students had to love him—if not for his witty exposés, then for his smoking good looks alone.

All too soon we were walking out the door.

“That was supposed to be my treat,” I grumbled, stepping out into the chilly evening and holding the door open for him. “Shit, it’s cold. The wind has turned to the south.” I flicked up the collar of my jacket and buttoned the front.

“You can get the next one,” he offered, then quickly glanced away. “I didn’t mean to assume... ah, forget it.” His big fingers fumbled with the buttons on his coat and I brushed his hands aside.

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