Page 13 of Beck and Call

I raised my eyebrow. I was bruised, hung-over, and feeling surly. "You don't know?"

"Are you really surprised I pay someone to clean my apartment?"

"No." I looked away. It really was a stupid thing to argue about. Of course, he hired someone to clean. It wasn't even a ridiculous thing to do. He already stated he worked long hours. Did I really expect him to spend what little time he had off cleaning?

"I'm sorry, okay? I never let anyone up here. It's small and I know pretty inadequate. It's embarrassing."

"Hey." He brought his hands up to cup the sides of my face. "Don't be embarrassed. You've been on your own for a long time. In that time, you've graduated college, moved across the country, and managed to support yourself in one of the most expensive cities in the country. You're remarkable, just let me help make it easier."

I turned my face into his hand, more to hide than to seek comfort. "I'm not used to anyone taking care of me. It's been a really long time since there was anyone to rely on. Why do you even want to? You have your life together, and I'm a mess."

"My life isn't as together as it seems. Maybe you aren't the only one who needs someone."

Conversation dwindled out between us by the time we made it to the car. Since my grandma's death, I kept all of my relationships superficial. With the exception of Jana that is, but she saw my personal boundaries as a challenge. Emotions led to attachment, which in my experience led to pain. I'd had enough pain in my twenty-three years.

Beckett took a call as soon as we got into the car and conducted business for the entire thirty-minute drive to the airport. I watched the city pass by the window while he discussed terms and deadlines for some pending project.

I'd never flown before, so when SeaTac came into view I watched for us to pull up to the departure gate. Instead we kept going. We pulled around to a fenced in area, and a guard opened the gate for us to continue through.

"I've never flown before, but driving up to the plane seems a bit extra."

He put down his phone. "I already mentioned, we’re taking the company jet."

When the car stopped the driver got out and took Beckett's luggage from the trunk and passed it off to a steward to load under the plane. Then he came around and opened our doors.

"Let me get you settled on the plane so I can take a look at that bruise again."

"I'm fine. It's just a bruise."

"Stop being stubborn. Rick, the driver, picked up some Arnica and more ice packs. You'll be much more comfortable if you let me treat it now."

I shrugged and followed him up the stairs.

He showed me to a love seat and set a plastic bag down on a table bolted to the floor opposite four leather captain's chairs. The door to the plane shut, and a flight attendant seemed to be busy preparing the cabin for take off.

"Mr. Anderson, can you please take your seat? The captain has received clearance to taxi for take-off." Her demeanor was timid and seemed frightened of him. I'd yet to see anything in his behavior to explain this reaction.

Without a word he took the seat next to me and dug a couple of seat belts from the seam of the leather sofa. "I'll treat it after the plane levels out."

Before I was adequately prepared the plane was racing down the runway. It jolted me back into the seat. I tried to maintain my composure, until the wheels picked up off the ground. A tiny squeak escaped my lips, and I grabbed his hand without thinking.

After a few minutes the seat belt light shut off. "We can move around now. The bathroom is in the rear of the plane. There is a bedroom beyond that, which is where I'd like to take you now."

"Really? Just like that? The seat belt sign goes off, and you're ready to go?"

He seemed amused, until he rose from the love seat and lifted me up onto his shoulder. "I'm going to enjoy that dirty mind of yours, but not while you're injured." He snagged the bag off the table as we moved through the cabin toward the closed door at the rear of the plane.

Carefully, he laid me down on the bed, and set the bag down next to me. "Show me."

I pulled up on my sweater and down on the waist of my pants until the side of my hip was displayed. He uncapped a tube of the ointment and rubbed some on the darkening mark. While it dried he busted the seal inside one of the icepacks. Carefully, he fixed my clothes and put the icepack in place and wedged a pillow next to it to prevent it from moving. Then, he handed me two blue pills and a bottle of water.

I looked at him skeptically. "Don't be stubborn. It's ibuprofen with a sleep aid. There's a nine-hour time difference between Seattle and Berlin. This will help you get over your hangover, avoid as much jet lag as possible, and let this bruise heal as much as possible."

"When you put it that way." I swallowed the pills and relaxed into the soft mattress.

* * *

"Evie, would you like something to eat?"

---