Page 28 of The Billionaire's Secret Heir

“I’d like that.”

Madi tried to steady her nerves as Beckett followed her up the cracked sidewalk. It was the only thing on the outside now that needed fixing. When she glanced back at Beckett, he stared at the crooked concrete, a tic in his jaw. Things like that bothered him, then. She bit her lip. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite him inside. The interior of the house was in as bad of shape as the outside. She didn’t know the last time she had cleaned. Might as well let him see right away what he was getting into: a hot mess of a life.

As Madi let Beckett inside, she saw everything through his eyes. She had to stop herself from cringing. Maybe inviting him in hadn’t been the best idea. Toys were strewn everywhere. Even though she and Becka mostly spent time in the living area at the back of the house, this morning Becka wanted to be in the front, watching the work outside. A snack cup of cereal sat on the windowsill, tipped over. The curtain rod was crooked, where Becka had tugged on it too hard and the cheap metal brackets bent. Madi hadn’t been able to afford nicer, wooden ones. These were the cheap kind that came with the also-cheap metal rod. Her cup of coffee still sat on top of her Bible on a side table next to the chair where she’d read that morning.

Beckett’s eyes moved over everything and she felt like he was cataloguing everything that needed to be fixed up, cleaned, or changed.

“Why don’t you come into the kitchen? I’ll get you water. Or coffee. Tea. Milk. Whatever you’d like. I’m not sure what I have.” She laughed, knowing as she did that it was a nervous sound, not a happy one. Beckett could probably tell this as well.

“I’d love a glass of milk,” Beckett said. “I can’t remember the last time I had one. It sounds refreshing.”

Madi tried to block out her nervousness as she pulled a pint glass down from the cabinet. She noticed that the fronts of the white cabinets all needed a good scrubbing. There were smudges and handprints and something that looked like applesauce stuck on one of them. Horrified was too strong a word at Beckett being in this room. He didn’t belong here. It was clear from his impeccable appearance. His amazing car. His billions.

Her house was a wreck. She was a wreck.

Beckett stood in his suit near the kitchen, back straight and face serious. If she had been worried about him noticing all the small things wrong with her house, she felt even more unnerved when she realized that his gaze was fixed on her.

Nerves made her talk as she poured milk into a glass. “I use pint glasses for my regular drinking glasses. Kind of funny putting milk into it rather than beer. I’m not a beer drinker, actually. Not that I’m against drinking. Wine is okay. A lot of Christians don’t drink, but it’s not one of the things that bothers me. Anyway, the pint glasses. They are much sturdier. I never break them. The glass is thicker or something. I got rid of everything else and invested in a set. Pretty reasonable at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.”

What was coming out of her mouth? Did Beckett even know about that store? Did he think it was weird that she was a Christian?

His fingers brushed hers as Madi handed him the glass. It was slight, but enough to electrify her skin. That seemed like the cliché thing that always happened in cheesy romance novels to women who looked like her sister Calista. Not normal, everyday women like Madi. And definitely not in a kitchen with smudged handprints on the cabinets. But she felt it nonetheless. Madi stepped back, as far from Beckett as she could in the small kitchen.

“I’m a Christian too. Sometimes I drink wine. Not in a pint glass.” He gave her a teasing smile.

Beckett was a Christian. And he made something like a joke. A funny remark, really, but for someone as buttoned-up as he was, it seemed huge. Madi grinned. She liked this side of him, with the walls down.

He drained the glass of milk, eyes closing as he did. Madi watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. It felt extremely unfair that he could make something like drinking milk—out of a pint glass, no less—look attractive. Not for the first time, but maybe for the first time since Calista died, Madi felt a heated jealousy toward her sister. She had felt his kisses and knew what it felt like to have his strong arms around her.

This line of thought was worse than the ones before. Wasn’t it a terrible thing to be attracted to someone your sister dated? And had a secret baby with? Where did that whole situation fit in with his faith?

“Thank you,” Beckett said, bringing her eyes back into focus. He eyed the sink, full of dishes Madi had planned to wash during Becka’s nap time. He set the glass on the counter and faced Madi again. “I’m sorry that I stopped by unannounced.”

“Twice.” Madi gave him a small smile so he’d know that she was giving him a hard time.

“You’re right. Twice. And that I didn’t ask before I sent over the lawn care service and repairmen. If I had known that the woman you’re renting from was essentially kicking you out, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“It will help her get more rent, so that’s good, I guess. Good for her.”

“Not as much for you.”

Madi sighed. “Definitely not for me. Even if I had the money, she’s upping the rent per month. I love this area, but the reality is that it’s just too expensive for me. I need to go further out to the suburbs, I guess. There are better schools out there. I could find a house I could afford more easily. I don’t commute into town or anything. There’s really no reason for me to live here.”

“But you like it.”

“I do. It just has a feel to it. And the architecture—just everything. This probably sounds silly. It’s impractical. But I do love the Heights.”

“There is nothing practical about where I live. I chose based on driving through a neighborhood and how I felt there. I’ve upgraded things because I like them, not because it makes financial sense. That isn’t always a bad thing.”

“Not if you have the money to live where you love. I can’t think that way. It’s not reality for most people. I’m not trying to be rude, just honest.”

“That’s one of the things I like about you. You’re honest. It is a quality I don’t often see.”

One of the things you like about me?Madi almost fell over. Again, though, she was probably reading into this. She needed to change the subject.

“Did you grow up here? I ask because you speak a little more formally.”

“I did. But my parents are Dutch. They came over in their twenties. My brother Graham and I, we are very much American. But we also have quirks that are quite Dutch.”

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