Page 6 of Morning Wood

Beck holds back his laugh, but I see the spark in his eyes all the same. It was a dumb thing to say, but this man has me all twisted up. “I have no doubt you’re going to leave your mark here,” he replies all too easily. Such a smooth talker. Another reason not to trust him.

“How about you let me know what I owe you for the door and your time? Then you can be on your way.”

His eyebrows lift up to his hairline, but that obnoxiously sexy and charming smile is still spread across his face. “I like a woman who knows what she wants,” he says. “No charge for the door. It was the neighborly thing to do.”

“We’re neighbors?!”

"I don't live next door or anything," he assures me. "But everything is about a five-minute walk away in Winifred. In a way, we're all neighbors."

“That’s not creepy and cult-like at all,” I say under my breath.

Beck laughs, and once again, I’m swept away by the sound. It’s contagious. How can anyone hear his deep, melodic laugh and not want to join in?

Instead of giving him the satisfaction, I slam the door in his face. I know, very mature of me.

“You can thank me later for giving you a door strong enough to slam!” Beck shouts through the closed door.

I allow myself exactly one smile as I lean my back against the cool surface of the door, and only because I know he can’t see it. What am I going to do with Beck? He’s already wiggled his way under my skin. I have a feeling he’s coming for my heart next.

4

BECK

“I’m happy to hear that you still love the deck I installed last summer,” I tell Mrs. Hettinger.

“Oh, my, yes. The cherry stain was a great suggestion. I wouldn’t have even thought about it if you hadn’t brought it up. I love that I can set up my potted plants on the deck and they get the perfect amount of light. Gerald, of course, loves that he can lounge on the built-in benches and listen to that dang radio sports show he’s obsessed with. As long as it’s out of earshot from me, I’m happy.”

I nod and chuckle at her story, always glad to hear from a long-time client who had a good experience with my business. Still, it makes simple errands a bit more taxing, seeing as I’ve either fixed, torn out, or custom-made something for nearly every homeowner in Winifred. I get stopped a lot, like today, when all I really want is to grab a pack of beer and a frozen pizza.

I won’t complain about business and happy customers, though. I know I’ve been lucky to have the support of the community.

“...and his sister was over last Sunday for dinner - lasagna and strawberry rhubarb pie - when she commented on the deck and how gorgeous…”

Mrs. Hettinger’s words go in one ear and out the other. How can I concentrate on anything when she just walked in? The sassy little angel hasn’t said more than a handful of words to me, and I’m already thinking about ways to decorate our room and how many kids we’re going to have.

Reel it in, buddy.

I’ve never had these kinds of thoughts about a woman before. Never was much for relationships, much to the dismay of my mother and aunt. They would love for me to find a nice girl and settle down. Until a few days ago, none of that interested me. But now? I’m wondering how soon is too soon to move in together.

Reel. It. IN, I repeat to myself as I track Bea’s white-blonde hair weaving through the produce section. My girl doesn’t trust anyone or anything easily. Yesterday morning when I was replacing her front door, she couldn’t believe anyone would help her just to help.

The immediate accusations she hurled at me broke my goddamn heart. Where did she come from? What was her life like before moving here? As the heir of the Leavenworth estate, I assumed she was well-off and had a decent life, but I also know looks can be deceiving and wealth doesn’t equate to a safe and fulfilling life.

“Well, I better let you go,” Mrs. Hettinger says, patting the side of my arm. “Seems like you have someone else you should be talking to.”

My face heats and I know I’m blushing. Me. Blushing. “S-sorry,” I stammer out.

“Don’t be, hon,” she replies with a sly and knowing smile. “I know that look. It’s about time you found someone who makes you happy.”

I clear my throat and rub the back of my neck, feeling a little sheepish for being caught.

“Just make sure to bring her over for my famous strawberry rhubarb pie when things are official. Gerald would love to meet her, as would I.”

Mrs. Hettinger turns her grocery cart around and takes off toward the frozen food section, while I scan the store for Bea’s lovely locks. I spot her turning down the pasta aisle and head that way. I have no idea what I’m going to say to her when I reach her, but just like that first morning when I was drawn to enter the old house, I can’t help but gravitate toward Beatrix’s presence.

I see her curvy figure facing away from me as I enter the aisle. In jeans and a simple t-shirt, there’s nothing overtly sexual about what she’s wearing. Still, I can see the outline of her round, juicy ass and her thick, mouthwatering thighs. There’s no hiding her ample breasts, even in an oversized t-shirt.

She hasn’t seen me yet, even though I’m only a dozen feet or so behind her. I clear my throat to try and get her attention, but Bea pays me no mind. I kind of love it. It’s a challenge to get her attention and to hold it. I’ve had plenty of bored housewives wanting some “extra” attention, as well as a few gold diggers who see that I have a stable business that makes good money. I don’t care about any of them. That’s not what I’m looking for.

---