Page 23 of Beck & Coll
Even though I lived close to the main road, the word “main” was relative. I lived in rural Oregon. The area was rural. The road was a country road. It wasn’t paved with concrete, nor did it offer streetlights. I picked Collins up, so she wouldn’t be forced to try to navigate it after dark.
She stepped outside of the Sunset Cliff Cottage wearing a long, flowy sundress, a jean jacket, and sandals. I got out of the truck and met her at the landing of the porch.
“Hey.” I pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. She was soft in my arms, and she smelled good enough to eat. “You look beautiful.”
“Hey, you.” There she went, blushing and pushing hair behind her ear. “You look very handsome.”
I took her hand and led her to my truck. We made it to my house about ten minutes later.
“Wow. Your home is very you, Beckham.”
Since that was my entire goal when I had the house built, I took it as a compliment. “Thank you. My brother, Brighton, built it to my specifications.”
Her eyes widened. “The same one I met today at the ranch?”
“Nah. That was Bayliss. You haven’t met Brighton yet.”
“Okay. He’s very talented, I see.”
“That he is. I would offer you a tour, but you can basically see everything from here.” I gestured with my hands around the open-concept space.
The living room, dining area, and kitchen were all visible from where we stood.
My home was a modern log cabin inside and out. The exterior was crafted with wood and steel beams. As the owner of an adventure business, I loved nature, loved being out in it, and loved looking at it, which was why so many of the windows in my house went from the floor to the ceiling.
“Wow,” Collins commented, “your windows are huge, and the views make you feel like you’re in the middle of nature.”
“That’s the feeling I was going for. When I was describing what I wanted to Bright, I basically told him that I wanted to feel like I was in a tree house.”
“He definitely understood the assignment.”
I led her toward the kitchen. “There’s a bathroom there.” I pointed. “If you want to wash your hands. Brewer had the food delivered right before I picked you up.”
“Okay.” She agreed with a smile before dipping into the restroom.
While she used the facilities, I went into the kitchen. After washing my hands, I plated our food and placed it on the dining table. Then I poured us each a glass of sweet tea and set a carafeof iced water and water glasses on the table. She joined me just as I was lighting the lone taper candle.
“Okay, Beck. Come through,” she teased, her hand going into her hair to push some behind her ear. “Seems like you’re trying to set the mood.”
I looked at her across the table, our eyes meeting. “I’m trying to do something, Collins. I wanna get to know you. Have a seat. Let’s eat… and talk.”
She looked down at her plate. It had the same food as mine—a porterhouse steak, lobster macaroni and cheese, and roasted broccolini tossed in a butter sauce. She waved her hand over her plate and toward her nose.
“Oh my goodness, this smells so good.” She reached across the table for my hands. “Do you mind if we say grace?”
“Nah. Not at all.”
“Dear Lord, thank you for this food that we’re about to receive. May you bless the hands that prepared it, and bless it for the nourishment of our bodies. Amen.”
“Amen.”
We both dug in and let out identical hums of appreciation.
“Ugh! This is so good.” She groaned.
“It is,” I agreed, savoring the deep flavor of the steak. “Tell me, Collins. When is your last day here in Jackson Falls?”
“I was supposed to check out on Tuesday, but there weren’t any nonstop flights to Chicago on Tuesday, so your mom accommodated that. I leave early Wednesday morning.”
