Page 69 of To Have and to Scold

A burst and a buzz make both of us jump.

What the…?

It’s a phone, but the ringtone isn’t one I recognize. It’s happy. Jaunty. A sharp contrast to the low, drowsy, heightened, magnetic frisson in the air.

Beck’s shoulders slump. His heavily lidded eyes narrow, and his look asks,Should I?

I give a quick nod and bring the back of my hand up to my mouth, trying to contain the energy bursting there.

“Hello?” His normally bright voice is low, a deep rumble which drags my psyche right back into the kissing. Whoever’s calling him is in big trouble.

“Rosie, hi,” Beck says and then pauses as he listens. “I didn’t mind at all. We wanted to help.” Another pause. “Yeah, it was atough loss. The bad news about Prom mixed with the loss was just a lot.”

His gaze goes to me and as he listens to Leo’s mom, his lips curl in a smile, his eyes raking over me. “No problem. Poor kid. Glad he’s feeling better. Let me know how he’s doing tomorrow.”

He ends the call and pinches between his eyebrows as he sets the phone on the kitchen table. He sticks out a thumb to point to the phone. “Leo’s mom. She wanted to thank us for talking with him. She says he seems to be doing quite a bit better.”

It’s hard to read his expression, but I know there won’t be any more kissing tonight. And that’s okay. Really. It’s only going to cause pain if we carry on like this the rest of the summer. Better to have had a glorious time in his kitchen for a brief moment than to keep going and get our hearts broken when I go back to Atlanta, right?

Except nothing in me is believing that right now.

*****

Two days. The first wedding of the season is in two days.

There is so much riding on this that I might as well be on the “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” gameshow and the money I’m about to win is all tied up into getting the last question right.

Well folks, will Dallas pull this off or not?

This is my fifth summer of this, of tackling the busy wedding season in stride, the nerves from needing to get this right hitting me over and over again. It’s an exciting buzz, don’t get me wrong. But never before have I felt the weight of it all like I do now.

In the days since Beck and I kissed, we’ve seen each other several times in passing. My stomach always does a flip-flop gymnastics routine until I can get it under control. The way his eyes search me, asking me a hundred questions, helps me feel okay about it all. He’s not ducking and running every time hesees me. If anything, I’m worried he might think that’s what I’m doing.

Which I’m not. It’s just that I have a to-do list that is so long, it’s cutting off my air supply. I’m not used to doing this without Kaia or any of the other assistants at Amore. And to add to the usual list, I’ve been heading over to the mansion in the early morning hours to work on the bride’s room. With Beck’s crew’s help, so far, we’ve installed a clothing rack on wheels, a basic, second-hand vanity with lights and the most luxurious, velvet, baby-blue drapes.

Still, we have yet to talk about it, and there’s a timer ticking in my head. Is there a cordial timeframe to have a conversation about us kissing? A rulebook about this kind of thing?

No, there is not.

To top it all off, Mary’s acting like she totally knows that I’m daydreaming about Beck’s mouth every single time I see her.

And I am. You better believe it.

“What can I help you with, Dallas?” she says for the second time today as I pass her desk carrying bolts of fabric for the arch we’re setting up on the beach.

“Mmmm, unhuh.” I say around a box of pins I shoved in my mouth. Probably not a smart move, but I was desperate.

I deposit the bolts near the front entrance and take the box out of my mouth. “That is, I don’t think I need any help right now.” I do need help, but asking her would mean pilfering her from Beck, and I can’t do that.

She frowns. “I know this is stressful. I’m happy to help with anything you might need, Dallas.”

It’s tempting to ask her to field phone calls and texts from vendors and clients for me so I can build the arch, but again, I’m not going to steal her from Beck. “You are so kind to offer. You have your own job to do.”

She leans forward conspiratorially. “I know. But this is awedding. So much more interesting than two by fours and bags of cement and people calling to complain about this or that. Not that people are usually dissatisfied with Beck’s work, cause they’re not.”

Yep. She’s still trying to convince me to fall for Beck. Should I just admit to her that I already have?

“Who’s dissatisfied with my work?” Beck says, carrying his hard hat in his hands, his helmet hair so adorable I almost sigh aloud. He smiles at Mary and then his gaze rivets to mine and we’re both just standing there, our lips parted, frozen. He takes in my rose-colored V-neck blouse, burgundy wide-leg pants, and black pumps. He stops on my gold necklace that fits closely around my neck.

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