Page 41 of Redemption

Okay, I’ve been up north for a long time, but I haven’t forgotten the versatility of that statement. In the South, “Bless your heart” can serve as a genuine sign of sympathy or concern. But when it’s spoken in that tone—the one that’s sugary sweet but laced with arsenic—it’s typically a precursor to an insult.

I tilt my head to the side. “I’m sorry, Nicole, but I get the feeling you’re mad at me for some reason. Is everything okay?”

She places her open palm against her chest. “Of course, it is. Everything is wonderful. Business is great. I have a sexy, oh-so-talented man to warm my bed all night long. What could be bad about that?”

Well, this is awkward. I don’t remember Nicole being so brash.

“Uh... good for you. I hate to cut this short, but I really need to get back to the ranch. Could I please get a twelve-ounce vanilla latte for the road?”

“Sure, hun.” Nicole gets to work brewing some espresso and steaming the milk. “How long are you in town, Presley? Beckett mentioned you were back, but he wasn’t sure how long you were stayin’.”

My chest tightens as she says his name. “You still talk to Beckett?”

“Of course, I do, silly. Well, when we’re not too busy burnin’ up the sheets, anyway.” Nicole winks.

I blink rapidly, stunned. “You and Beckett are... seeing each other?”

She nods. “For about two years now.”

“Oh.” I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “Is it... are you two serious?”

I know I have no right to ask, nor reason to care, but the words just seem to fall out of my mouth.

She chuckles. “Well, we were recently talkin’ about marriage, so I think that’s pretty serious, don’t you?”

Wow. I don’t know what to say. I never expected Beck to be a monk, but I’m caught off guard by the fact that he’s dating one of my old friends. Like the song says, I guess that’s just how it goes when you break up in a small town. Obviously, my brother was wrong about Beck not letting anyone get close to him.

“Speakin’ of marriage... if you don’t mind me pryin’. I notice you’re not wearing a wedding band.” Nicole sets the to-go cup on the counter. “You poor thing. Is that why you’re back? Because your marriage to that handsome billionaire failed?”

My face flushes with anger. Nicole was always insecure, which I never understood because she’s absolutely gorgeous. But I don’t ever remember her being downright nasty. Her motive couldn’t possibly be any more apparent. She’s not happy I’ve returned—probably because she considers me a threat due to my history with Beck—and she’s going to do her damnedest to cut me down, so she can make herself feel better. Too bad for her, I’m well-versed in this game, and I have no intention of letting her walk all over me. I’m so over biting my tongue. That was something Presley Winters would do. Well, as this scornful woman is about to learn, Presley James is making a comeback.

I dig a ten-dollar bill out of my purse and set it on the counter before grabbing the cup of coffee. “Nicky, I know you’re threatened by me, but let me assure you—”

“Threatened by you?!” she sputters. “Hardly.”

I hold my hand up. “As I was saying, let me assure you, I am not in the market for a man, so you need to get that through your head now. If you and Beck are havin’ troubles, that has nothing to do with me. Your relationship with him is none of my business, just like my relationship is none of yours. Don’t project your insecurities onto me. I’ve got plenty of my own shit to worry about; I definitely don’t need any of yours piled on top of it.”

“You have some nerve!” Nicky folds her arms over her ample chest. “I don’t have a single thing to be insecure about, least of all my relationship with Beckett. If anyone’s projectin’ somethin’, it’s you. If you think he’ll come running back to you, you’re sorely mistaken, Presley. He wants nothing to do with you after the way you treated him. In fact, he once told me he’d prefer it if you never came back, so maybe you should think about that next time you want to throw around accusations. You’re nothing to me and nothing to Beckett.”

This is pointless. Nicky obviously has no interest in listening to reason.

I hold up the coffee. “Thanks for the latte. Good luck with everything.”

Her shrill scream is cut off as I leave the store. I’m in such a hurry to get out of there, I’m not looking where I’m going until it’s too late.

“Shit!” I stumble backward after bouncing off a hard chest, hot coffee spilling all over my hand.

“Damn it!” a deep voice booms, reaching out to steady me. “What the hell, Presley? Where’s the fire?”

I gasp as his large hand curls around my elbow. My eyes are trained on his white T-shirt, more specifically, the spot where my coffee has soaked through the cotton, making it cling to his rippled abs. Jesus. Beckett had a great body when we were younger, honed by good old-fashioned manual labor, but this is the body of a man. My stomach flutters, stirring up feelings I thought were long gone. I don’t know which one of us moves first, but we’re suddenly so close that only a few inches of space exist between us. I close my eyes, inhaling the same woodsy cologne he wore when we were together. Beck drops his head, our foreheads nearly touching as I breathe him in.

He releases my arm and moves the hand lower until his fingertips are digging into my denim-clad hip. The hunger between us is palpable. There’s an urgency to it that scorches my insides, overwhelming my senses. The outside world doesn’t matter. It’s just me and him, drawn together by this magnetic force neither one of us could ever deny.

My toes curl when Beck groans, then whispers, “Pres.”

I lean in a little farther, closing the gap between us. I think I moan when my peaked nipples brush against his upper abs. “Beckett.”

My voice is breathy, needy in a way I didn’t know I was capable of any longer. Like a rubber band stretched too thin, as soon as the words leave my mouth, Beck snaps back, breaking the spell we seemed to be under. We both look at each other, bewildered, as the cloud of lust dissipates and reality sets in. Now that I’m thinking clearly, I remember why I was in such a hurry in the first place.

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