Page 12 of Morning Wood

BECK

“I’ll hold the board in place and you hit it with that rubber mallet,” I instruct, nodding toward the tool lying next to Bea. She picks it up, testing the weight in her hands before lining it up with the edge of the board. She strikes the wood tentatively at first, but then she gains confidence and gives it a few good knocks. “Perfect,” I praise.

Beatrix beams up at me, her green eyes sparkling with pride. I can’t help but lean over and taste her smile. She opens up for me, her silky tongue gliding against mine as I cup the side of her neck and brush my thumb against her pulse point. This elicits a wanton moan, letting me know she likes it.

The kiss is over all too soon, but I suppose we both need to breathe at some point.

“What was that for?” Bea asks, still catching her breath.

“You looked so happy and joyful, I needed some of your light as my own,” I tell her before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Beatrix sighs and snuggles further into me. “Where did you come from?” she whispers. “You’re like, perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so, sweetheart.”

“So, how many more floorboards do we have to lay?” Bea asks as she sits back and rests against the wall behind her.

I look over the entryway and dining room, admiring the work we did yesterday. Bea was by my side, tearing out the old flooring and helping me haul in all the supplies for the new flooring. We’ve been working on the house for three days now, and while there are at least a hundred more projects left to do, I’m amazed at what we’ve accomplished so far.

Bea wasn’t satisfied letting me do everything. She shocked me and made me fall even more in love with her when she said she wanted to learn what I was doing. I admire the hell out of this woman, not only for her resilience through what I know was a traumatic childhood, but for the strength and courage she displays every single day.

“At least three hundred,” I estimate, knowing we still need to tear up and redo the floors in the main living room as well.

“Whooo-boy,” she says with exasperation. Bea blows a breath out, making a few wisps of her light blonde hair dance around her lovely face. “No wonder your muscles are so… muscly,” she says, her cheeks slightly flushed. I prowl toward her on my hands and knees, watching her eyes light up with desire as I approach. I rub my nose against hers, then sip at her lips, taking my time to appreciate how soft and sweet they are.

Just then, my phone rings. I ignore it, deepening our kiss. Bea combs her fingers through my hair and cups the back of my neck, opening her mouth wider so I can take more, more, more.

My stupid fucking phone rings again, and Bea breaks the kiss. I grunt and nuzzle into the side of her neck, not wanting it to ever end.

"Go ahead and answer," she says with a laugh. "I'll be here installing brand-new hardwood floors in my home!" She's so adorable with her excitement, which is equal parts owning a home after spending her life in foster care and also being able to help restore it and make it her own.

When my phone rings a third time, I curse and finally fish it out of my pocket. While I don’t like being interrupted when I’m spending time with my woman, I must admit I’m curious as to why Domino is calling me.

“Hey man, what’s up?” I answer once I’m in a different room. There are about a dozen of them to choose from.

"Beck, it's been too long," Domino says over the roar of a motorcycle in the background. He must be at the Deviant Souls clubhouse. "Some shit went down a few months ago and I've been trying to pick up the pieces. Sorry, I haven't checked in as often."

“It’s on me, too,” I tell my friend. Domino and I went through basic training and did our first deployment together. Our careers took us down different paths, but we’ve tried to stay in touch over the years. “I could have just as easily picked up the phone to call you.”

“Well, either way, we’re here now,” he says matter-of-factly. I grin at his response.

“What’s been going on? Anything I can help with?”

Domino gives me a quick rundown of everything happening with his MC, Deviant Souls. To my shock, he’s now the president of the club.

“Congrats, man,” I tell him. “I mean, it sounds like it was a hell of a time getting there, but I’m glad you’re getting a fresh start.”

“Yeah, about that,” he hedges. Aha. I knew there was a reason for this call. Not that I mind. This is the kind of friendship we have. “I’ve been looking at new places for the clubhouse. New era and all that shit,” he adds. “Would you be available for some custom work for the bar? I’m thinking a live edge oak bar top and matching shelves behind the bar.”

“Fuck yeah, that sounds classy as hell. Do you have the dimensions ready for me now?”

“No, I still haven’t settled on a location. Calista still hasn’t met all the requirements I’ve asked for,” he grumbles.

“Calista?” I ask, intrigued by hearing him talk about a woman.

“The real estate agent. She’s something else.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing,” I tease.

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