Page 77 of One Last Encore

"Wow," Ingrid said, wide-eyed. "She didn’t maul you."

Grinning, Beck slid his hand under Freddie’s belly and quickly lifted her into his arms.

"Careful, she–" Ingrid started, but the words died in her throat as Freddie purred, loud and content, nuzzling into Beck’s chest like she’d chosen him as her new favorite human.

"She hates everyone," Ingrid muttered, still in disbelief.

Beck smirked, stroking Freddie’s fur. "I have a way with standoffish ladies," he said, his voice dripping with amusement.No kidding.

CHAPTER 22

BECK. MID NOVEMBER, FIVE YEARS AGO

Beck had Freddie eating out of the palm of his hand,literally. While Ingrid showered and changed, he found the stash of cat treats and poured a handful into his palm. Freddie devoured them with the desperation of a cat who'd never been fed in her entire life, then immediately began weaving a figure-eight around his legs, purring like he was the only man who had ever truly understood her.

With a low chuckle, Beck reached for the pink bakery box labeledVito’son the counter, flipped it open, and fished out a rainbow cookie. He took a bite and let out an honest-to-God groan.

"Damn, that's good," he muttered around a mouthful of crumbs, already reaching for another. "Your mom’s got dangerous taste, little one."

"Bribery?" a voice drawled from behind him.

Beck, caught mid-cookie with one hand still buried in the treat bag, turned to find Ingrid leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, and an amused smirk tugging at her lips.

Crumbs rained from his mouth as he said, "It’s not what it looks like."

She hummed, clearly unconvinced. He gave her a once-over and immediately regretted it because now he couldn’t stop looking. Fresh from the shower, she wore tiny cotton shorts that left just enough to the imagination, a loose tee that slipped off one shoulder, and pink fuzzy socks. Her damp hair clung to her collarbones, skin dewy and makeup-free, all small curves and heat. She was always beautiful, but like this? Casual, no-effort Ingrid? She was a goddamn masterpiece.

"I was trying to get her to put in a good word with her mom," Beck said, wiping his mouth, "and then the cookies started calling my name."

"The cookies are from my father," Ingrid said, shrugging. "His congratulations for landing the lead. About two months too late. And he doesn’t remember that rainbow cookies are my mom’s favorite, not mine. So please, eat as many as you want."

That annoyed him. Not the cookies, her father. The way she brushed it off, like it didn’t matter. Like, being two months late and getting it wrong was just standard protocol. Beck clenched his jaw, biting back the urge to say something he probably shouldn’t.

Meanwhile, Freddie was still shamelessly rubbing against his legs like a love-struck groupie. Ingrid’s eyes narrowed, clearly unimpressed with her cat.

"And at this rate," Ingrid said dryly, "I’m gonna needyouto put in a good word forme."

Beck snorted.

"I have something serious to ask you," Ingrid said, her voice dropping into an ominous, dead-serious tone. "It’s been weighing on me. I almost didn’t date you because of it."

Beck’s heart immediately plummeted into his shoes. Shit. What did she hear?

Gossip traveled faster than disease at Juilliard. His brain flipped through a disaster reel of offenses: the time his drumstick went flying across the room and nailed his professor mid-lecture? The morning he rolled into theory class still half-drunk and breathing hangover fumes? God, please no.

Ingrid folded her arms, letting him sweat.

"Do you know your nickname is Drum Daddy among the dancers in my program?" she asked, one brow arched, a wicked little grin tugging at her lips. "Be honest. Did you start that yourself?"

Beck blinked then smiled.

"I’ve heard whispers," he said solemnly. "Tragic, really. The streets talk."

He crossed the room in two lazy strides, slipped his arms around her waist, and leaned in, voice dropping to a sinful murmur right against her ear.

"But Ingrid... the only daddy I want to be is yours."

She made a noise like she’d been physically stabbed. "Oh my God."

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