Page 70 of Hopeless Romantic
“Now it sounds like the trading floor during a flash-crash?”
“I may have been on that exact floor a time or two.” He brought her hand to his mouth and delivered a kiss. “If you need to send a representative in your place, I’m your man.”
Loud voices erupted from inside the house. With a resigned sigh, she looked at him over her shoulder. Her expression of unyielding determination hit him like a cement truck. She’d already decided to face the music alone. For some reason, that didn’t sit well with him.
“Nah,” she said, reaching for the door handle, then hesitating, her back to him. “Thanks for tonight. It was sweet of you to make it such a special evening.”
“Any time.” Not wanting to let her go quite yet, he said, “And Beck?”
She looked back, and he doubted that she realized just how dejected she looked. He wondered what she’d do if he offered to whisk her away, for the night, a week—a trip around the southernmost tip of the Americas. Would she flip her neighborhood the finger and tell him to gun it? It wasn’t as if the universe were about to give her a pass on the drama for the night.
Based on the ruckus coming from inside her house, he didn’t think her family would, either. And wasn’t that the heart of the problem? As long as Beckett’s loved ones needed her, she’d continue to put her own needs on the back burner.
Levi didn’t want to let her go—he’d done too much of that lately. But he also didn’t want to be one more person, in an already long list, asking her to choose between conflicting loyalties. She had enough demands on her time.
With a playful wink, he said, “When you relay this story to Annie, could you maybe replace the sweet with something more manly, like studly or smooth?”
“Only a stud could pull off such a fun and righteous night out. Oh God, Levi is one smooth operator.” She tried to bite back a smile and failed miserably. “Better?”
“You can save the ‘Oh God, Levi’ for when it’s just us two.”
Before she could respond, chaos broke free inside her house. The piercing beep of a smoke detector cut through the night, shouting ensued, and her phone immediately started ringing.
She cringed. “That’s my signal.”
“Time to turn back into a pumpkin?”
Dealing with her phone, she distractedly looked up. “I was never really into the princess thing.”
Too bad. If there was one person who deserved a little happily ever after, it was Beckett. Not to mention, she’d look amazing in a corset, glass slippers, and nothing else. Well, maybe those thigh-high stockings naughty Cinderella wore.
“I see it now.”
“See what?” she asked self-consciously.
“That.” He reached past her to point to the sky above her house, purposely nudging her shoulder with his, waiting for her to move close and look out the windshield.
“What am I looking at?”
“The Girl Wonder signal. See, right there, big as can be.”
She realized he was pointing at the moon and nudged back. “Ha ha.”
“I’m serious. Capes are way hotter than crowns.”
She grinned, and since her cheek was right there, so close he could smell the sea mist on her skin and watch as her good mood was snuffed out by the escalating disaster—he closed the distance between them. Applying a big, wet smacker to her cheek—right above the dimple that formed when she smiled—and another, softer one, to her lips when she laughed.
The last peck though, that was all Beckett, he was proud to report. She cupped his face and delivered a sweet, sexy, and way-too-short kiss that had his mind spinning.
When he pulled back, he noted that the music had lowered. A loud whacking, which sounded like a piñata getting beheaded, ensued until the alarm bleeped to a stop. She glanced over her shoulder at the neighbor’s front door, which now stood open, silhouetting a pacing figure that bore a striking resemblance to Karen waving a rolling pin.
There were no silhouettes on her porch, because all the exterior lights were off. An ax murderer could be hiding in the shadows, and she’d be none the wiser.
“I’d better get going.” With that, she grabbed her bag, shut the car door and, with a wave, headed toward her house, his coat dwarfing her tiny frame.
There was confidence in her steps, in the way she held her shoulders; she was acting for all the world as though she weren’t walking into a crazy house—alone.
If that last part didn’t have him opening his door and walking up her drive, then the way she disappeared into the darkness did.
