Page 35 of Hot Damn
“That makes three of us. But we can’t do anything about it now. I’ll let you get some sleep. And please, don’t sleep on the couch, use my bed. And I’m sure you’ve only got the clothes you were wearing today, there should be a shirt or something in my wardrobe for you to sleep in.”
“Thanks. But Whitney already set me up with a pair of her pajamas.”
“Good. And thanks again for looking after Whit. I’ll see you tomorrow after lunch.”
“About two? That should give us time to pick up her car before you have to pick her up from school.”
“Can we touch base on the time tomorrow? I might need a nap after tonight. I’m sure I won’t get much sleep with what you’ve told me rolling around my head.”
“Sure. Message me. I’ve got a lunch date but other than that I’m free all day.”
“You’re not working on your next big scoop?”
I can hear the grin and imagine the way it tilts his mouth. The vision is clear as day in my head and I have to shake it to dislodge the image.
“No. That’s not how I work.”
“Really? You’ll have to explain to me what it is you do when I see you tomorrow.”
“If you’re interested, sure.” I press a hand to my mouth when a yawn cracks my jaw. “Sorry. The day is catching up with me.”
“My fault. Go, get some sleep and I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“Bye.” Hanging up I stand in the garage and ponder our conversation.
In spite of Beckett’s initial raised voice, our talk didn’t go the way I expected it to. We haven’t really been on friendly terms. In fact I’d say our interactions have been quite hostile. But the last few minutes were relaxed. Like two friends catching up on each other’s lives…
I don’t understand the shift. We haven’t had any interaction since the day after I interviewed him and Whitney, and his level of dislike was still blatantly obvious.
What changed?
Oakley hasn’t mentioned talking to him; neither has Nat or Blake. If he’d gone to them like I suggested I could understand the shift.
Then again, it could just be that I came to Whitney’s aid today. In my experience actions are always more believable than words. It’s possible, with time to think, to replay our previous encounters, Beckett Higgison no longer sees me as the enemy he first perceived.
Shaking my head as another jaw cracking yawn sneaks up on me, I head back into the house. I lock the door between the garage and the utility room for good measure although I’m not worried about someone breaking in.
That doesn’t stop me from checking all the doors and windows on the ground floor. As I said to Beckett, better to be safe than sorry. And the safety of the girl in my care is a priority I have no intention of slacking on.
Once I’m happy the house is secure, I head upstairs to the master bedroom. The walls are covered in the girliest wallpaper I’ve even seen and I can’t hold back my laughter.
The thought of big brawny Beckett Higgison sleeping in here, surrounded by all this femininity, is hilarious. I’m still chuckling as I snuggle under the soft bedding on Beckett’s bed, his masculine scent surrounding me, and drift off to sleep.
Beckett
I’m dragging ass. Two hours sleep is not enough on the tail end of a tough game. Especially after the adrenaline drop of winning that tough game.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I debate talking to Oakley or Natalie before we board the plane. If I’m lucky I can grab a quick catnap on the flight home. But if I talk to them before that I’m sure they’ll want to dive deep into what happened.
With that in mind, I push last night’s discussion with Cami aside and join the guys lining up to get on board. I’m the last in line and as I pass the coaches, I tip my chin up in silent greeting. They move in behind me and I can’t help overhearing their conversation.
“Nat not flying home with us?” Coach Watts asks.
“No. Oakley said she’s got to go to Atlanta before returning to Baton Rouge,” Coach Alcott replies.
“That fucker.” Watts’s growled curse brings a smile to my face. “He’s making her work for it in the hope she’ll give in and give him more money.”
“Not happening,” Alcott answers, his words tinged with a growl of his own. “She’s got him over a barrel. Oakley said the last report from the PI is the final nail in his coffin.”
