Page 94 of Love, Lacey Donovan
“You just told my secret to the one man I hoped never to see again, and you think an apology is going to fix it?”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“How about you love me too? How about you want to be in a relationship with me?” His glare was glacial, causing chills to run down my spine.
Anger pulsed between us. He accused me of lying, but I’d never been anything but truthful. He and Sally were the ones lying to the world. I shook my head. I knew I had been wrong to tell his secret when he’d trusted me, but part of me wasn’t sorry to have revealed his identity. Didn’t he know how much he deserved to be recognized?
“Maybe now that the secret is out you can finally be yourself.”
Beckett’s dark eyes heated, scorching me from across the room. “You don’t get to make that decision,” he said, his voice as sharp as a blade.
My heart raced as the tension filled the room. “Maybe it’s for the best. You don’t have to hide your talent.”
Beckett’s throat worked as if he was trying to form words. He moved suddenly. Crossing the room in a single stride, he hooked me around the waist and hauled me against his chest. His mouth crashed down on mine, taking me like a fierce predator. Fire exploded between us. His mouth was hard, branding my lips. After a moment, I responded with a demand of my own. I leaned into him just as he let me go.
His arms dropped so abruptly I nearly lost my balance. He stalked to the door and put his hand on the doorknob. I’ll never forget the look of desolation on Beckett’s face as he glanced back at me.
“Good-bye, Lacey.”
I pressed my fingers to my mouth, still feeling the sting of his kiss as he walked away.
Chapter 39
For the rest of my shift, I was like a robot. I stacked books, gave recommendations, and helped with directions, all with a frozen smile. By the time I got off work, I was numb.
I drove home and parked in the driveway, but didn’t get out. I turned off the engine and rested my head on the steering wheel as a highlight reel of my relationship with Beckett flashed before my eyes.
His pink socks the first time I saw him.
His moss-brown eyes looking up at me from the bottom of the bookshop ladder.
His dark hair glittering with snow on our first date.
His dimples popping the first time he’d told me he loved me.
I wanted to cry, but I was too mad for tears. I slapped the steering wheel in frustration. I had screwed up, but he hadn’t even given me a chance to explain.
My phone rang, and I reached over and grabbed it. The bubble of hope in my chest burst when I saw Thatcher’s name scroll across the screen.
I flipped open the phone. “What?” I barked.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Sitting in my car,” I said, voice dripping with misery.
“I know,” he said. “I’m in your driveway.”
I looked up and saw headlights cutting through the rain into my front seat.
I winced. Was Thatcher going to fire me? Was that why he was here? I had been too numb to check in with him when I left. I’d caused a scene in his bookshop that was probably going viral on the internet.
I was so fired.
“You saw the video?” I asked, shrinking inside my jacket. I hadn’t thought my heart could squeeze anymore, but the thought of losing Hyperbole’s…
“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks for the free publicity.”
“I’m not fired?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek.
