Page 12 of Forever to Fall
Mallory didn’t respond at first, but he didn’t miss the flush that crept up her neck. “You want to have dinner with me?”
“Yes?” he replied, although it was far from a question. Beckett wanted Mallory to stay as long as she liked—for dinner or the rest of her life. He wasn’t picky.
Holding his breath, he watched her face shift from confusion to acceptance. Her shoulders were tense, but the popping of her jaw subsided. He knew he’d won this round. “Sure, that sounds nice.”
“Cool.”
For what felt like an eternity, neither of them moved. Beckett took in Mallory, from her change of clothes to the new color of her hair. It had always been waves of chocolate, and now there were tinges of red, catching the light and reminding him of old copper pennies. He was still in love with this woman, and he needed to make the situation right. Mallory had clearly moved on, judging from her pinched expression and how she barely tolerated his dinner invitation.
But Gramps’s words echoed in Beckett’s head, and he couldn’t stop thinking about them.Go find your girl...
The trouble was, he’d found her. Beckett needed to figure out how tokeepher.
CHAPTER 4
––––––––
Mallory had falleninto a black hole; she was certain of it. Nothing around her made sense and there was a faint ringing in her ears. Yep, she was tumbling through space and time without a tether. It was surreal, standing in Beckett Fox’s apartment, mere miles from her own. For more times than she’d ever admit, she’d fantasized about seeing him again. Her daydreams ranged from anger-fueled thoughts of decking him to lust filled fantasies of kissing him until she couldn’t feel her lips.
While his back was turned to the stove, she pinched her arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Letting out a tiny yelp, she clapped her hand over her mouth and groaned.Real smooth, Mallory.
“Did you say something?” Beckett asked over his shoulder.
“Nothing,” she squeaked out in reply. “Can I help with anything?”
He shook his head, his attention back to the cutting board in front of him. “Help yourself to a drink and have a seat. This won’t take long.”
She did as she was told, grabbing a pair of beers and popping the tops. After sliding one across the counter to Beckett, she took her drink to the couch and curled up on the far cushion. Perhaps having a yard of fabric and padding between them would make it less awkward?
Beckett chopped for a few minutes and then slid a sheet tray into the oven. He tidied up before joining her on the couch. “Food will be ready in less than fifteen minutes.”
“Cool,” she said, taking a long pull from her beer. What the hell was she supposed to do for fifteen minutes? Discuss the current state of American politics? Go over her recent training on the best way to draw blood? She assumed she would eat and run; not sit in awkward silence for an eternity.
“Cool,” Beckett replied like a robot, swigging from his own beer.
Mallory opened her mouth to repeat the blasted word for the third time, but she clamped her mouth shut. She would not be the weird one—more than she already was. She was visiting a friend, helping with the tools. This visit didn’t mean anything, so why did she feel so uncomfortable?
