Page 10 of Hopeless Romantic
Grief unwound in his chest, followed by an irrational urge to keep Beckett close, where fate and happenstance weren’t a factor. And where he could keep this conversation going, because he liked talking to her. A little too much.
“Maybe just wait out the storm.” Levi stepped out into the rain to stand by her bike. “I’ve got a hot bowl of clam chowder in the back with your name on it. I’ll even let Pecker have a seat at the bar.”
Her smile went warm and her eyes sympathetic as she reached out, her slender finger resting on his crossed arms. “I’m sorry about your sister. I didn’t really know Michelle, but everyone says what a great person she was.”
“She was better than great,” he said with quiet reverence.
“How are you doing with all that?” she asked, and Levi cleared his throat, unsure how to respond.
She was the first person to ask him that question. He’d heard the words a thousand times over the past year, but they were always coming from his mouth. He’d been so busy helping his mom, and his niece, and even his brother-in-law deal with Michelle’s death, there hadn’t been a lot of room for Levi to deal.
“I mean, it’s none of my business.” Her fingers slid away. “I just know how hard it can be to fill the emptiness left behind when you lose someone you love.”
Oh, he knew firsthand the pain that came with recovering from a loss that significant. He’d done it a decade ago, after his dad’s passing. And his sister, just last year. But he was interested to know her experience. Because up until this moment, he hadn’t realized she’d lost someone, which made him even more aware of how little he knew about his favorite customer. From the bits he had pieced together, she was generous and funny, but kept her private life pretty damn private. She never dated anyone for any length of time, and besides her few close friends, she didn’t socialize much. He often saw her riding around town on her mango-colored cruiser with the white basket on the handlebars, taking care of an errand or delivery for her customers. But even with a job as Rome’s most beloved personal concierge, which forced her to interact with people, no one really seemed to knowher.
Even Levi. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on his part. There was a reason she kept people at a distance. And damn if he wasn’t determined to inch his way closer.
“Every day’s a little easier,” he said, repeating the empty platitudes people had offered him in the wake of his sister’s accident.
“One day you’ll wake up and that won’t be a lie,” she said softly. “It never really goes away; instead it becomes woven into every part of you.”
Her phone pinged, and she closed her eyes. “I really have to go. My dad misplaced his pills. Again. But I don’t live far from town, and I promise I’ll be safe.”
He was about to ask her to promise to give him a call when she got home, when Dean pushed through the front door, takeout bag in hand. “Oh, I thought I’d missed you. I have your takeout order.”
“My dad called and I . . . I’m so sorry.”
Levi noticed the heartfelt apology was directed at the guy who’d walked a plastic bag fifty feet—not the guy who would have been out the money had the order sat under the heat-lamp all night. No warm appreciation for the guy with chicken shit smudged down the front of his favorite shirt who was standing in the rain, offering to give her a ride home. She trailed off, implying Dean knew her well enough to fill in the gaps in her story.
“We’re cool.” With some kind of a boyband hair flick, he let the bag dangle from his fingers while flashing a cockyCome and get itsmile Beckett’s way.
Oh, hell no.With a glare that had Dean choking on air, Levi snatched the bag right out of the horny little prick’s fingers. In a blink, Beckett snatched it out of Levi’s. And her glare was icy enough to cryogenically freeze his nuts.
“The Crow’s Nest doesn’t do takeouts, Dean,” Levi said, but nobody was listening; they were too busy double-checking the order and inspecting the fry-to-entrée proportions.
“The Harpers are on my way home.” She stored the bag in a heater box strapped to the back of her bike, then smiled his way. “We should talk more about that app. Rome’s food delivery shouldn’t be limited to pizza and Chinese.”
With a wave, she pulled into traffic.
“She has a good point, boss,” Dean said as they both watched her drive off. “You should consider it. She’s smart.”
“Sexy, too,” Levi admitted.
Dean gaped at him. “She’s got frizzy hair, her jacket’s tucked into her pants, and her socks don’t match. Most guys wouldn’t think that was sexy. Adorable, maybe, but not sexy.”
“I’m not most guys,” Levi said, thinking it was a good thing Beckett was such a loose cannon and therefore off-limits. Otherwise, he’d find himself in trouble. Never a good position to be in, especially now that Levi’s closest buddy and Beckett’s best friend were engaged. Levi owed it to Emmitt not to go sniffing around his fiancée’s friends. Regardless of how adorably sexy they might be. “Plus, who’s been sneaking her takeout orders for the past few months?”
Chapter 3
Beckett hadn’t even entered her dad’s house, and she was ready to call it a day. Her hands were frozen solid, Bruce had taken her canceling harder than expected, and Levi was right—she looked as if she’d driven her scooter through an automatic car wash while still sitting on it.
Oh, and she just might, kind of sort of, like him. Which was why she’d never let him drive her home. Because a grown woman still sleeping in her childhood bedroom, under her Ryan Gosling HEYGIRLposter, was too embarrassing to share—even for Beckett.
But when your father made Beethoven look grounded, and your teenaged brother preferred to play video games in his underwear, embarrassing was bound to happen. Not that Beckett regretted her decisions. For her, family always came first.
She glanced up at the one-story, brick federal-style house and smiled as her brother, Thomas, paced the porch from end to end, wearing cleats and a Yankees parka and holding a Wiffle Bat. Diesel was one step behind him the entire time.
Diesel was Thomas’s emotional support companion, a French bulldog with a sweet tooth, who looked like a potato with tater tots for legs. After flunking out of cadaver dog school for having too big a heart, Diesel had become Thomas’s best friend. Beckett had trained him to be Thomas’s companion, his practice audience, and the first barrier between Thomas and the rest of the world.
