Page 69 of A Not So Merry Rescue
Beckett shakes his hand. “Thanks, Mert. It was a busy year.”
“What will you do now that you’ve won this year’s contest?”
Beckett smirks like the Grinch. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ve got lots of ideas up my sleeves.” Again, Mert’s attention draws my way, but Beckett dismisses him with a, “See you around.”
Mert seems perplexed at Beckett’s cursory tone but eventually takes the hint. “Oh, right. I’ll be seeing you.” He strolls back to his table.
We get a small reprieve until an older woman, probably my grandmother’s age, ambles to the table, leaning heavily on her cane.
“Beckett Nicholas. Just the man I wanted to see.” In a move I’m not expecting, she twists her body, angling her ass toward the booth seat, using the back of the booth and the table as leverage to sit down next to Beckett.
“Hey, Birdie,” he mumbles courteously but without the enthusiasm I’ve seen from him. Can’t blame him, though. She’s interrupting our chat, taking up residence in the booth like we invited her to join us. He smiles at her, but his dimple doesn’t make an appearance.
“We must chat about next year’s holiday breakfast.”
Beckett sighs, mouthing, “Sorry” to me.
I excuse myself to the bathroom. An inkling of guilt tries to worm in, but I shove it away. He suggested lunch, knowing full well how his town works. Mostly keeping to myself at home, I don’t spend too much time out and about in Havenwood, so I’m not sure how it compares to Winterberry Junction. Here, it seems like everyone knows everyone else, and a few of Beckett’s comments corroborate the notion.
I don’t stall in the bathroom, but I don’tnoteither. Hoping I’ve given Birdie enough time to chat about next year’s breakfast—like if they don’t get started immediately, they’ll run out of time for something happening in twelve months—I make my way toward the table in time to catch Beckett’s eye roll and his “save me.” I stifle my laughter, but he looks like he needs saving.
Sliding into the seat across from them, I don’t waste time interrupting Birdie’s speech. Something about red versus green decorations. “Um, Birdie, was it?” I raise my voice to be heard over hers.
Her glare swings my way, almost offended I’m impeding her conversation. Ironic since she’s the one who first muscled into my and Beckett’s discussion. “And you are?” Her tone isn’t quite rude, but it’s more abrasive than other Winterberry residents, something I file away to inquire about later.
“Willa.” Do I tell her I’m staying with Beckett? That we’re fuck buddies for the week? She’s not innocent, but that doesn’t mean she won’t take offense to it.
“Willa,” she repeats. “But who are you? You’re not from Winterberry. I’d know.” She crosses her pudgy arms over her chest, tilting her head down to peer over her glasses. Like a lightbulb goes off, she snaps her fingers, surmising, “Oh, you’re the woman staying with Beckett. I heard about you.”
“Looks like the Winterberry gossip mill is at it again,” Beckett chimes in with a shake of his head. “Actually, she’s only here for a few more days. I’ll catch up with you next week about your ideas for next year’s breakfast.” Beckett stressesnextandyear. Hopefully, Birdie comprehends.
She’s slow but eventually she harrumphs, and with a struggle, awkwardly pushes out of the booth. Once she’s standing, leaning heavily on her cane with one hand and the table with the other, she stares at Beckett. “I expect to see you next week. I’ll have Marlene block out some time on my calendar. Plan for an hour.” One last scowl in my direction, she hobbles off.
Beckett lets out his breath and slumps against the booth, his fingers running through his hair. Before I can get him to explain, a cute teenager arrives to take our order, her eyes akin to googly ones, her smile ear to ear, her focus solely on Beckett.
“Hey, Beckett. How’s it going?”
“Great, Justine.”
If possible, her smile widens at the use of her name. She’s got it bad for him, but he doesn’t indicate the attraction is mutual. Only because she’s too young for him. Or I’d assume that’s what he’d say. He’s a handsome, single guy. How he doesn’t have women falling all over him is beyond me.
Or maybe he does. He’s spent a lot of time out of the cabin. Sure, he says he’s at work, but he could be with someone else and using me as a backup. With this being so sudden and also temporary, it’s not like we set rules or boundaries. And if he is getting it from someone else, good for him. Maybe she’ll be more permanent.
Even considering him with another woman sours my stomach. Which is the stupidest ever because he’s a fun time for the time being. Nothing more.
“Willa?” Beckett’s voice breaks me out of the trance. He regards me with an unusual expression, almost as if I’m astranger. Oh, right. I am. “Have you decided what you wanted?”
“No. Can we get a few more minutes?”
Justine smiles at me, but it’s not as bright as the one for Beckett. “Sure thing. I’ll come back in a bit. Something to drink while you wait?”
“Water, please.”
“I’ll have a Coke.”
“Be right back.” Justine flitters away, leaving us to get back to the menu.
“What’s good here? What’s your favorite?”
