Page 28 of Hopeless Romantic
“And what makes Beckett different?” he asked, even as a mental list of all the ways she was one of a kind tallied in his brain faster than football stats in Vegas.
Beckett was as refreshing as the way he felt when he was around her.
“You haven’t tried to sleep with her yet,” Gray said. “That’s not your usual MO.”
There was that. It hadn’t been for lack of interest. When it came to Beckett, interest wasn’t the problem. It was timing. They’d never been single at the same moment. He’d had Vikki, and she had a never-ending supply of boring bankers and software engineers. The only time they’d both been single and in the same place had been Emmitt and Annie’s engagement party.
Holding the football upright with one finger, Gray flicked it through the air, nailing Levi in the chest. “You can thank me later.”
Gray stood and exited the office before Levi could hand it back. Not that he was sure he would, because Gray had a point. When it came to Beckett, he was in desperate need of help. The fact that he was this excited to have a legit reason to seek her out was ridiculous.
It was rare that Levi allowed himself to become distracted. Once he set a goal, he zeroed in, relentless in his pursuit. A trait left over from his sailing days. It had served him well in the past, allowed him to carry his family during the worst of times, and helped him keep a laser focus on the business when the freedom of the open sea tempted.
Beckett was a temptation he both wanted to explore and needed to avoid, but no amount of focus seemed to be helping. A problem that kept him up nights—and under his BVDs come morning.
It had been that way since the grocery store run-in. He wasn’t sure if it was the warm vulnerability she’d shown when accepting his help or those ass-hugging leggings she’d been wearing, but she had his full-on attention.
Now she was sitting in “his section,” wearing a pair of black-leather biker boots and a case of helmet-hair that would scare a gang of Hell’s Angels. She was looking as ruffled as ever, and Levi couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Oh, she was looking his way, too. Onlywarmandacceptingweren’t the first two words that came to mind.Waryandapprehensivewere more accurate. Given the way her eyes darted everywhere but his way, his appearance was to blame.
Levi grabbed two frosty bottles of her favorite beer. Cracking his neck to each side and bouncing on his toes, he made his way toward the booth at the back of the bar, feeling better than he had in days.
Funny how the possibility of arguing felt a hell of a lot like foreplay.
He set the beers down, and she frowned. Her chin jerked at the extra bottle. “Who’s that for?”
“Not the chicken you’re hiding in that backpack,” he said.
“He’s not hiding.” She clutched the pack close, and a string of clucks and flapping sounds erupted from inside the bag. “In fact, he refused to come out, because he doesn’t like being in your bar.”
“That’s fair, since I don’t like having him in my bar, either.” More commotion, and it was as if a feather bomb exploded into the air. “Are you trying to get me shut down?”
“I wanted to go to Tipsy Pelicans, but Annie insisted on meeting here. Go argue with her.”
“Pelicans sucks. They water down their alcohol. And you’re the one arguing.”
She opened her mouth, then realized she was about to argue and snapped it closed.
Deciding the extra beer was for him, he slid onto the bench across from her and took a long pull. Her silence gave him the chance to study her over the rim of the bottle.
Her lips were as full and glossy as ever, her cheeks flushed, and the tip of her nose bright red—likely from riding her bike around town in the middle of March. Her eyes, though, were hooded, and extremely apprehensive. Her stress visible.
“What?” she asked, patting her head. “Do I have something in my hair?”
“I would have been worried if you didn’t,” he teased, then reached across the table and brushed some glitter from her hair. “Never took you for a sparkly kind of woman.”
“I’m not.” She undid her braid and shook her hair, scattering a few more sparkles on the table. “I was looking through paint swatches, and it must have hitched a ride.”
“Repainting something?”
“Nope,” was all she said.
“Redecorating, then?” He sat back and took a leisurely sip of beer. “Maybe I can be of assistance. I’ve recently spent a bit of time researching color schemes and how they affect mood.”
“Color schemes?” Her lips twitched.
“That’s what Paisley called it. I finished refurbishing my dad’s boat, and now I’m working on the inside. She’s helping me paint and decorate the inside in exchange for driving lessons. She wanted to make sure to use calm, soothing shades, especially in my cabin. You should come check it out.”
