Page 48 of Forever to Fall
WickedWarri0rBr0:Uh oh, please tell me it’s Mallory.
FoxyMage96:And what if it is?
WickedWarri0rBr0:Then I say log off right now and get ready, dude. When I met my wife, I did everything I could to impress her. Flowers, food...clean T-shirts. Once I even wowed her with aftershave.
FoxyMage96:LOL. Wow, you’re a prince among men.
WickedWarri0rBr0: ::king emoji::
FoxyMage96:Already have dinner prepped. I’m not a total slouch.
WickedWarri0rBr0:What’s the plan? You going to tell her how you feel?
FoxyMage96:Yeah, because that’s gone well in the past.::laughing while crying emoji:: ::face palm emoji::
WickedWarri0rBr0:Not to get all philosophical on you, but love is a lot like this raid we’re on.
He paused long enough to kill a dragon, helping Beckett cast a spell on another incoming foe.
WickedWarri0rBr0:You need to put the work into it and trust your partner. Tell her you’re all in, and then go from there.
Beckett frowned, knowing his buddy spoke the truth. But offering platitudes was a hell of a lot easier than putting your heart on the line with the woman you’d shattered before. Their relationship had always been about timing. When one of them was all in, the other wasn’t. Or worse, they were chicken and too afraid to commit. Needless to say, Beckett was the chicken in this scenario.
FoxyMage96:Appreciate the advice, man. I better log off and get ready.
WickedWarri0rBr0:You’ve got this, Foxy. Just being your charming self. If that doesn’t work, cast a love spell.::winky face emoji::
FoxyMage96:I’ll do my best.
Beckett logged off and tidied up the apartment. It was sparsely decorated, but at least it was neat. He wasn’t much for a cluttered space, until the clutter meant something. Gram’s old sugar bowls and tea pots filled the farm house with a cozy warmth, but they would look ludicrous on his IKEA bookshelf.
Idly, he wondered if Mallory wanted them. She’d always enjoyed tea parties with Gram as a girl, and it would make Gram happy to know they were getting used and loved instead of spending eternity in storage. Much like himself, but he wasn’t going there now.
Twenty minutes later, he heard a quiet knock at the front door. Beckett checked his appearance on his phone before jogging to the door. His glasses, for once, were clean and his hair was as tame as his curls would allow. Not wanting to appear too eager, he’d opted for jeans and a T-shirt. Swinging the door open, he was knocked back on his heels by Mallory. She’d changed since the hospital, wearing a pair of leggings and a curve-hugging blouse that his fingers itched to unbutton.Real gentlemanly, Foxy.
“Hey,” Mallory said with a wave, a timid smile on her lips.
“Hi.” His response came in a husky whisper. The fading sunlight cast Mallory in a glow that looked better suited for his videogames than the real world, golden flecks popping in her hair. Gripping the door handle, Beckett tried to think of unsexy things like baseball or taxes—anything to keep himself in check. They had to talk, then he’d kiss the hell out of her.
Mallory held up a bottle of wine. “I brought wine.”
Good, liquid courage was good. “Good,” he stammered, feeling like an idiot. How had they ever managed full conversations over the last fifteen years?
“Good,” she replied, blinking at him like he’d officially lost his sanity. “Um...” She held up the bottle, waggling her eyebrows. “How about you invite me in and we have some?”
Muttering a curse, Beckett stepped back and let Mallory pass. Her signature blackberry scent followed her into his apartment, and his knees nearly buckled. He needed to get a grip, and fast.
Becket led the way into the kitchen and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. I’ll get the cork screw.”
Mallory giggled. “No need. I went fancy and got a twist top.” She punctuated her point by opening the bottle and dropping the cap with a clatter to the table. “I assumed this low rent Pinot Noir goes with French bread pizza,” she said casually.
Beckett grabbed a pair of glasses before bumping into his chair. In his haste to sit, Mallory had to catch the bottle as it threatened to tip over. “Am I that predictable?”
Mallory smirked. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” She poured the wine and handed him a glass. Their fingers grazed, and Beckett felt a jolt of awareness bolt through him. That was always how it was with Mallory, simmering heat that followed him like a shadow. “To your clean bill of health,” she toasted.
Beckett dutifully clinked glasses. “We’re not sending people to hell tonight? How boring.”
“The night is young, and this is only our first glass.” She gave him a look he needed the Rosetta Stone to decipher. Her blue eyes sparkled, like she was in a joke and he was the punchline. Mallory’s shoulders were relaxed, her legs crossed and posture casual. She seemed at home with him, and he could feel it in his bones.
