Page 52 of To Have and to Scold

If I was allowing my heart to be warmed by such a thing, which I’m not.

The discoveries about Mr. Beck Billingsley that have come to me today threaten to weigh my head down so much that it just might drop off entirely from the rest of my body.

When Rosie and Leo leave out the same back door they came in, Elliott’s face sobers. “Leo lost his dad to cancer last year,”he says quietly. “Billy’s…I mean, Beck’s been awesome ever since then. Hiring him for odd jobs and helping him with his homework.”

Okay. My weighty head really will roll off my body with all the new and tender and heart exploding Beck intel. And I’m sad for Rosie and Leo.

But Elliott and Portia are whispering to each other, and I even detect a quiet, fussy squeal of excitement. Portia turns to me. “We’ve been trying to do this on our own, but with my grad school preparations taking up so much of my time, it’s getting to be too much. Dallas, we’d like to ask you to be our wedding planner, if you’re available. And we want to get married in Willow Wood mansion!”

Wow. That’s a big deal. And with my stomach’s lurch of excitement, I see Beck’s clouded expression.

That I care what he thinks, and more importantly, that something is bothering him about this whole scenario is too much. I shouldn’t care about his feelings or his worries about his brother, and Portia seems like a genuinely lovely person.

But I do care. An unnatural amount.

I am in big, big trouble.

A few minutes later, after talking some more with Portia and Elliott about their visions for their wedding and picking a potential date—early August—they get up to leave. Portia gives me a hug and thanks me for my help.

If all brides could be as down-to-earth about their wedding like the brides I’ve been working with here in Willow Cove, I wouldn’t even need the stress balls I always keep on hand.

“Did you just get the sixth wedding booked?” Beck’s expression is serious, but I can tell he’s happy for me. He may not be happy that it’s his brother, though.

“I can’t believe it.” I place my hands on my warm cheeks. “It’s a relief to have met my goal of six.”

“I’ll walk you to your car, Dallas.” Beck’s eyes crinkle at the edges, the kindness and appreciation in his smile beginning to erode my promise to myself to leave Willow Cove completely unattached.

I should just take my own self out to my car like a responsible adult, but I nod and stand from the sofa, leaning towards Ace to give him a scrub around the ears. “You clean up nice, Ace. I’ll see you around.”

The dog gets up to follow us to the door, and Beck tells him to go sit on his dog bed.

“He’s so obedient,” I say as I glance back to see Ace trotting to his bed in the corner of the kitchen.

Beck’s head rears back in a loud laugh. “He’s only obedient when he wants to be, and only for nefarious purposes.”

I giggle under my breath as we go outside, but the night air and the full moon have me distracted, and as Beck and I reach my car door, I’m feeling the weight of what all this means. All these feelings for this good-hearted, sweet, handsome man. I’ve tried really hard not to fall for him, because we’re opposites in most ways and because I’m leaving Willow Cove.

But here we are. Standing next to my car. And I keep staring at his lips. I shift my focus, but now I’m gazing into his honey-brown eyes. That won’t work, either.

“Thanks for coming over,” he says, stepping toward me to wrap me in a hug.

I breathe in the scent of him, not wanting to let go but relieved that I’ve managed not to kiss him yet.

Although, if he were to take steps in that direction…?

No. This doesn’t fitThe Plan. Holden didn’t fitThe Planeither, and look where that got me. I’ve got to get back on track with what I’ve always wanted.

I pull away from the hug, bumping up against the door of my car. I flash a quick grin. “Anytime, Beck.”

Chapter Nineteen

Beck

“The mansion will be ready in time.” My voice is resolute. Calm.

It’s an informal meeting—just a little chat outside Martha Dobbs’s office. She snagged me when I went into city hall to file some building permits.

“Are you sure?” There’s a deepening crease above her eyes. “This is my daughter’s wedding, Beck. In our ancestral home.”

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