Page 9 of Hopeless Romantic
Levi squinted into the mist as a stiff wind came off the coast, slicing through his clothes and adding a moist layer to the already drizzly night. A thin sheet of water blanketed the streets, reflecting the red taillights of the passing cars and shimmering over Beckett as she straddled her Vespa.
A car sped past, kicking up a fine spray of droplets, dotting the faded denim of her second-skin jeans, which were soaked through in the ass region. And, man, what an ass. If ass-sculpting were an Olympic sport, she’d take the gold every time.
What a sight she made, the streetlamp encasing her in a soft golden glow as she stared out at the horizon, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, wavier than usual and looking shower-fresh from the drizzle. Her jacket was zipped tight, molding to her gentle curves, while those legs of hers, which started at the South Pole and stretched all the way to Santa’s Workshop, stood astride a bright orange scooter that had CONSIDERITDONEpainted on the front fender.
“I think you forgot something.” He lifted Pecker.
She blinked at him as if only now aware that she was sitting in the rain, minus one co-pilot.
“Gregory! I can’t believe I forgot you.” She hopped off the bike, raced over, and picked up the bird. “I am so sorry,” she cooed, pulling a space-pod-style backpack with a plastic dome-shaped view-bubble from the storage under her scooter’s seat. With a kiss to the beak and a few more heart-tugging apologies, she gently ran her hand over the lucky little Pecker’s back before placing him inside his pod and slinging the pack over her shoulders.
Finally, her gaze met his. “Thank you. I’ve been a little scrambled lately.”
He understood completely, because he knew that the smart thing would be to wish her a goodnight and disappear back inside the bar. But it was too late to play this smart. Her sweet smile, paired with that tough girl exterior, did stupid things to his brain. Although he blamed another part of his anatomy for what he did next.
“If you give me a minute, I can grab my keys and give you a lift home.”
She blinked as if that were the most ludicrous statement she’d ever heard. “You want to drive me to my home? Why?”
He had to laugh. “Because it’s raining, and you’re driving a scooter. I mean, Pecker’s got a sweet setup, but you’ll be soaked through by the time you reach the highway.”
“Then my bike would be here, and I would be home. That makes zero sense.”
Levi looked over his shoulder through the window and had to agree. The longer he stood there flirting with a woman who clearly wasn’t interested, the more backlogged the orders would become. His life had gone from putting out one fire to another, and he was working with an extinguisher that was so empty, it wasn’t even blowing fumes.
“I can drive you back to grab it tomorrow morning,” he offered, wondering why he was so intent on adding one more responsibility to his already suffocating list. He told himself it was because of Michelle’s accident. But he knew better. This was all about pheromones—and Beck had the right kind.
It was cute how she pretended to consider his offer, but her eyes remained wary and nervous, a response that wasn’t new when it came to him. Neither was the way his heart softened every time he saw it.
“I’m good. Plus, I don’t tell guys where I live. Dating 101 for the modern woman.”
He believed that she didn’t invite men home, but the reason she gave was complete BS. Which made him all the more curious. “Dating? Wow, we skipped right past the uncomfortable coffee meetup to dating. Admit it, Beck, you like me.”
“Like isn’t the word I’d use to describe how I feel about you.”
“Before you offer me your final rose, I think we should explain things to Boring Bruce.”
She rolled her eyes, but he caught a twinkle of humor. “Banker Bruce, and there isn’t anything to explain, because your time and all this”—she circled her finger to encompass his face—“is wasted on me.”
“Beck, time with you could never be time wasted.”
She leveled those chocolate brown eyes on him. “I’ve seen that grin, witnessed the aftermath, and I’m telling you, I’m immune. So, I don’t need your kind of help.”
She knew his moves. Interesting.
“I don’t know what kind of help you think I’m offering, but have you ever thought that a ride home can be as simple as a ride home?”
“Until it’s not.” Her tight smile had him easing off. “I can get home on my own.”
And Levi realized right then he’d pegged her all wrong. Beckett wasn’t stubborn so much as suspicious. For a woman who was always so free with her smiles and time, she was clearly uncertain about him, careful to hold her cards close to her chest.
“I just don’t want to see you ride home in the rain,” he admitted honestly.
“I’ve got my jacket.”
“It’s the first big downpour of the season, which means the roads are slippery. Tonight’s forecast said the worst of the storm will pass over in the next hour or so.”
Levi used to love a good storm. The way the wind would whistle off the ocean and send rain dancing across the wood hulls. On a good night, the choppy waves crashed into the sides of his boat until the current stopped fighting the flood of the changing tide. It was chaos and power colliding, as unpredictable as it was thrilling. Now it just made him think of unjust loss and how unfair life’s curveballs could be.
