Page 50 of Hot Damn
“I want to work for KAW when I finish school.”
“That’s a few years away, yet. You’ll probably change your mind.” Beckett nudges her with his shoulder. “And there is nothing wrong with changing your mind.”
“Oh, I won’t. And I’m not talking about after college, Dad. I’m going to start looking for something I can do while I go to college.”
“You’re sticking close for college?” I ask, curious as to what this blossoming woman has in mind. She seems so set and determined and I’ve already noticed how mature she is for her age.
“I am. I’m also looking at doing online. I know everyone thinks going away to college is an experience I should want but I don’t. I like being close to Dad, and why should I go if I can get where I want to go without it?”
“You have a point.” Beckett eyes his daughter. “You really don’t want to go away to college?”
“No. I like it here.”
“We’ve been here less than six months.”
“I know but as soon as we got here, it felt like home.”
“Huh.”
“You didn’t feel that way?” she asks, her gaze glued to Beckett.
“I did.” Something passes through his gaze, something that has an edge of fear to it. And I can’t help but think he’s not being quite truthful.
“Does it remind you of where you grew up?” Whitney asks before she picks up a cherry tomato, drags it through the hummus, and pops it in her mouth.
Beckett’s entire body goes rigid. There’s no visible jolt or anything, but the tenseness of every muscle telegraphs his reaction to her words.
“You grew up near here?” I flinch as soon as the words are out because the look he shoots me is one so hostile you’d think we were opposing each other on a battle field. I wrack my brain for any memory of his file. I know the PI gave us an extensive one before we offered him a contract but I don’t recall anything about him living in the US.
As far as I remember he’s played his whole career for Canadian teams and never set foot across the border for anything other than to play.
He takes a moment to get himself a glass of water, pours myself and Whitney one too before he comes back and looks me right in the eye.
“I was born in Florida, but my mother moved us north, to Michigan, when I was two. So no. Baton Rouge doesn’t remind me of home.”
He doesn’t say anything else and I don’t either. The look in his eyes tells me the subject is closed and he won’t answer any other question I might ask.
Once again I think he’s hiding something.
I can’t put my finger on it. Have no idea what it could be or why he feels the need to keep it to himself.
The doorbell interrupts the tension hanging in the air and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“That will be Cal.” I go to move but Beckett stops me with a hand on my arm.
“I’ll get it in case it’s not. Stay here with Whit.” His words aren’t harsh but they’re an order all the same.
I glance at Whitney who shrugs as she stuffs a handful of grapes into her mouth.
She’s as clueless as I am and her lack of concern for the weirdness of the last few minutes has me trying to shake it off.
Except the more I think about it, the more I want to dive deeper into Beckett’s past. And I can’t decide if it’s the reporter in me or the woman who’s become a little too intrigued by this man and his daughter.
Beckett
My eyes move over the crowd searching for the familiar curls of my daughter.
She spent about five minutes at my side before Oakley introduced her to Chase Hawkins’ twin sisters. The twins go to Whit’s school and the three of them instantly hit it off.
