Page 11 of The Lies You Love
Reminding myself of my friend’s worries, I bluster on fact or fiction, who knows. “Yes,” I say, but before I can elaborate, the door chimes and a customer walks in. It’s Roxanne. She comes in weekly to see if I have any new merchandise for her French bulldog, Gypsy. “Morning,” I say, moving out of the way so she can come in. Beckett moves only one step, never taking his eyes off me. “I was just stocking the pink rack over there with new sweaters,” I announce.
“How’s your pup doing?” Roxanne asks.
I lie and tell her he’s doing great. I mention that the new dog park is finished, knowing full well her precious Gypsy will never set foot in it. Pets are my business, so I have to know everything. “There’s also baked gourmet treats by the register. They baked gold flakes into them.”
Her eyes light up, and I know she’ll buy the whole box. This normal distraction is welcome, but I can tell my customer is uneasy with the humongous gorgeous man leering in the corner.
“What about you? You have a dog?” she asks Beck. Her eyes bore into him, not at all flustered by everything he is putting off.
He shakes his head. “I came here for the jewelry,” he deadpans, eyes flat, and voice monotone. I cover a laugh, and I can see his lips twitch, but Roxanne looks even more nervous than she did a moment before.
“I’ll just take a sweater and the entire box of those treats. Gypsy has a puppy play date next week, and they’ll make the most darling gifts for her friends.”
“Sparkle-infused dog shit is kind of a gift for their owners, too,” Beck inserts, still with his scary voice.
Roxanne mouths the words, are you okay, while I’m processing her card. I nod once and smile brightly. “Next week I have some designer collars coming in. Stop by.”
She scurries out, clutching her purse and her purchases against her chest like a shield.
“You can’t do that,” I say as soon as the door closes. “She’s one of my best customers. She’s kind and loyal. She tells all her friends to come here and shop.”
“Sorry, I guess I never really do this,” he says.
I huff. “Beck, I’m sorry for giving you a fake name, but honestly, did you think you’d see me again after last night?”
He strides forward, and I tremble a little. Now that Roxanne is gone, I’ve lost the distraction and my mind. I can still see his body naked, feel his thick girth in between my legs. I’m throbbing and still wet from the sex-a-thon last night. I’ll be wet for a week!
“I wanted to. I even told you I could see you for a month before I have to go back to work.”
“What do you do?” I narrow my eyes. “It sounds like bullshit, you know?”
Beckett cracks his neck both left and right. “I’m in the private sector. Think of it like the military. When I’m here, I’m here, and when I’m away, I’m unreachable, nonexistent. It’s why I don’t do more than one month stands.” He rubs the five o’clock shadow on his chin and it reminds me that I can still feel the stubble burn on my inner thighs. “Why don’t you do more than one-night stands?” He gave me something, so I should as well.
This is where I should pepper him with questions to get more information, but what’s the point, really? If we can only have something for a singular month, even if he’s telling the truth, it’s still not ideal. I swallow down the lump in my throat that rises anytime Walker arrives to the conversation. There is nothing to lose with Beckett, I realize. He will never be more to me. He can’t. It makes Beck safe in my twisted mind.
“I have a habit of turning men gay,” I say, watching his face closely.
He narrows his eyes. “I need a bit more to go on here,” he deadpans.
“Walker,” I say, feeling a bitter taste fill my mouth. “He was my boyfriend for six years. He was, well, he was gay. Instead of marriage like I expected after all those years, he just left.” I clear my throat and break my gaze. “And when I say left, I mean I haven’t heard from him since he left. You’d think because he is gay, he’d want to be my friend after, right? I knew him better than anyone else.”
Beck bites his lip. “You really think it’s your fault he left you? That he’s gay? You know you can’t turn someone gay. People are born that way.”
I shake my head. “No. It’s just the joke I tell people to keep it light. Facts are, I didn’t see it coming. There wasn’t any indication even looking back now.” I can’t look at his face while he’s biting his lip or doing anything with his mouth. My stomach fills with butterflies. “So, I do one-night stands because there’s no threat of heartbreak.”
When I say it out loud, I realize how dysfunctional my habit is. A normal woman would be dating. Trying to get back out there to find a man worth her love. A normal woman wouldn’t rely on one-night stands to fulfill a deep-seated longing.
He inhales deeply and puts his hands in his pockets. “I see.”
“Do you, really? Most would only see a woman hung up on her ex.”
He shrugs. “I don’t judge anyone’s reasons for doing things. Humans are a complex species. Rarely can you guess why anyone does anything.”
“If you do understand, maybe you can forgive me for not telling you my real name.”
He looks pained as he shifts from one foot to the other. “This is more complicated than you know and has little to do with you giving a fake name to a stranger you met at the bar.”
I press my lips together. “It’s fine. We had an awesome night. This can be the end of it. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you don’t want to see me again or if you can’t accept my apology.”
