11
After spending ten minutes on the phone with his criminal lawyer, Beckett now knew for certain that Luka dropped the charges. Even with this good news, Beckett’s mood was shot. Things were going well with Amelia. Really well. If that prick got inside Amelia’s head and undid all the healing they’d been through, Beckett might do something to make those charges return. He’d spent the remainder of his morning with Autumn, tacking her up and working her with the saddle on in the round pen before he spent a good hour on groundwork to deepen their bond. He’d known cowboys to use force, but he never saw sense in the method. All his preparation and groundwork was to build trust. If he did that right, she’d have enough faith in him to ride her and stop giving him grief. Right as he wrapped up, giving Autumn a hose off to cool her down before returning her to the paddock, he received a text from Hayes: Up for wings and beer for lunch?
Beckett removed Autumn’s halter and she wandered over to her feeder full of hay. He shut the gate behind him and fired off a text: Meet you in fifteen.
Nash never minded if Beckett took a longer lunch, and right now Beckett needed to talk to his friends and get his head straight.
The drive into downtown took longer than expected due to a three-car collision on the country road into town. By the time he arrived at Kinky Spurs, a western-themed bar belonging to Nash’s wife’s, Megan, he found Hayes and Sullivan already seated at a table. Megan was behind the shiny, reclaimed-wood slab bar when he arrived. She had distinctive eyes—the left one blue, the right one brown—and her long, sandy-colored hair held a slight curl. He gave her a wave, which she returned, and then continued to show a new employee around, or so Beckett assumed since he’d never seen the twenty-something guy before. Customers sat around squared tables and in booths; the ones closest to Beckett arguing over the best soccer player in the league.
“Hey,” he said, his chair scuffing against the hardwood floors as he slid it out. He took a seat next to Hayes and across from Sullivan. He noticed the Foxy Diva already waiting for him, and look a long, long sip, relishing in the crispness. “Thanks for ordering the beer.”
“No worries,” Sullivan said with a laugh. “I was too damn thirsty to wait.” He lifted his beer and tipped it toward Beckett. “Gotta get a few more of these in before I head back to Boston.”
“Are you leaving soon?” Hayes asked.
Sullivan nodded. “In a couple days for some team meetings and press, but then I’ll be back. How about we talk about your face.”
Beckett lifted his brows. “What’s wrong with my face?”
“You look miserable,” Sullivan pointed out. “What’s up?”
“Luka is what’s up,” Beckett grumbled. When both his friends frowned at him, he set to explaining. “The prick came by Amelia’s place to tell her that he dropped the charges against me.”
Hayes whistled. “Oh, yeah, what did you do when you saw him?”
“Kissed the hell out of her in front of him,” Beckett said, with a smile he suspected looked deadly.
Hayes barked a laugh. “Good for you, and even better the charges have been put to bed.”
Beckett agreed with a nod, right as Megan sidled up to the table.
“Wings all around?” she asked.
“Always,” Hayes said, as they never seemed to order anything else. Kinky Spurs had the best wings in River Rock.
“Excellent,” Megan said, clearing away Sullivan’s and Hayes’ empty beer bottles. “Another round?”
“Yeah,” Sullivan said. “Put this one on my tab.”
“Will do,” Megan said. “Wings coming up shortly.”
“Thanks,” Beckett said to her, watching her walk away and wondering if Nash had found his relationship with Megan so complicated when they started dating. He figured everyone had their ups and downs, and he looked back at Hayes and Sullivan, who watched him eagerly. “What?”
“There’s gotta be more going on here than Luka showing up,” Hayes said. “Considering how chummy you and Amelia were last night at dinner, how are you not riding a serious high right now?”
Beckett blew out a low breath. “When Amelia saw Luka at her front door, she looked like she was about to puke.”
“Not surprising,” Sullivan remarked. “He dumped her at the altar. It can’t feel good.”
“No, it can’t,” Beckett muttered, picking at the label on his bottle. “I just hope that bastard doesn’t get in her head and mess up all the progress we’ve made. I finally have her back in my life, and this fucking guy just won’t go away.”
Hayes leaned in, his brows drawing together. “You think she might get back with him?”
“It would be foolish of me not to consider that risk,” Beckett said, relaying the thought that had been on his mind all morning. “She was with him for three years. He proposed. She accepted. Obviously, she loved him.”
“Last night, it sure looked like the only man she was thinking about was you,” Sullivan offered.
Beckett inclined his head. “And yet, this morning when we saw Luka, she looked ghost white.”