Page 125 of Banter & Blushes

Beck shook his shoulders. “I told you. No work tonight.”

The pressing thoughts of work, binders, and plans blurred into the background as the savory aroma of the casserole teased her senses, causing her stomach to rumble impatiently.

“How do I know you’re not luring me into some kind of trap, Beckett?” she asked, trying to mask her vulnerability with humor.

“It’s just dinner. I will not turn down dinner provided by your Grandma Army.” Beck’s easy manner was both reassuring and unsettling, as he deftly served generous portions of casserole, his actions natural and warm. Caroline watched, her mind a whirl of thoughts, as he balanced plates and nudged the door open with his foot. “You ready, Hollis?”

Caroline lingered for a moment, her gaze fixed on him as he vanished onto the porch, plates in hand and the dog trotting behind. There was a dangerous thrill in this, an impulsiveness so unlike her usual self. Before her anxieties could take over, she snatched the bottles of beer from the counter and followed him, her shoes making a gentle tap against the floor.

As she stepped onto the porch, the sight of Beck waiting beside two beach chairs, a small table between them, made her heart flutter with a mix of anticipation and dread.

Quint was making himself comfortable on a braided rug, his tail thumping against the fabric as Caroline approached. He looked like aridiculous mop of fur, his white coat blending with the sandy beach beyond. Beck put the plates on the small table between the chairs.

“I forgot silverware,” Beck called. “Be right back.”

As he disappeared, Caroline stood there, taking in the scene. The porch of Beck’s cottage was a charming mess of cozy details somehow fitting together, with sprawling rose bushes and wild clumps of beach grass breaking up the view of the ocean.

The plants reminded her of the windswept garden she’d always imagined for herself, but never actually planted. String lights shaped like tiny, colorful fishing bobbers were draped playfully across the top of the porch, creating a soft, ambient glow which mingled with the fading light of the setting sun. The golden glimmer of a citronella candle flickered in the far corner, keeping the bugs away and adding a warm touch of intimacy.

It was so inviting compared to the sterile environment of her own house, where immaculate perfection reigned. Somehow, Beck had created a haphazard paradise, a laid-back sanctuary, without even trying.

“This is cozy,” she said with a touch of wistfulness, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Though I have to admit, it’s not what I’m used to.”

She wondered if Beck even realized just how perfectly personal his home seemed to her. The gentle chaos of the porch, the simple comfort floating in the air. It was the kind of thing she never let herself indulge in. The kind of thing she steered clear of. Yet here she was at Beckett’s place, doing exactly the opposite of what she had planned.

“Seat’s not too fancy for you, is it?” Beck teased, emerging with a fistful of plastic forks and tossing one into the air. He flicked the edge of Caroline’s beach chair, scattered sand to the ground.

“I’ve survived worse.” She smiled, though it felt a little uncertain after everything which had happened between them. It was an unexpected turn, sitting on the porch with him, paper plates in hand. She didn’t do this type of casual.

Wouldn’t do.

Yet here she was.

The strangest part was, she wanted to see what happened next. She plopped down in the chair, felt it give slightly under her, but strong even if it seemed fragile.

“This is very … spontaneous of me.”

“That a bad thing?”

“Not tonight.” She picked up her beer and clinked it against his. “To spontaneity.”

“To delusions,” Beck said, passing her the generous plate of steaming casserole. “Think you’ll survive the evening?”

“Are you daring me?”

“You like those, don’t you?”

“I think I’ll manage,” she said, reaching for the fork he’d set next to the paper plate. She took a bite of the casserole and savored it.

They sat there, a comfortable silence between them, Quint at their feet and the ocean stretching out into the horizon.

Caroline looked out at the waves. Her thoughts were a mix of the steady crash of the ocean and Beck’s voice in her head. Taking a sip of her beer, she looked at Beck’s silhouette in the darkness. “Why did you leave the hustle and bustle of D.C. for a small beach town like Bluebell Bay?”

“I’m the one who should ask why you left Bluebell to move to the city.”

“You answer my question first, then I’ll answer yours.”

He propped an elbow behind his head, the smooth glide of the line catching him off guard. He liked this woman more than a little. “I realized quality of life is more important than the quantity of things in it.”

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