Page 51 of One Touch

His face crinkled with a small laugh.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I can go first. I used to tell people I was born in France. At one point I started pretending I knew French. It wasn’t purple. It wasaubergine.Fraises.Bluets.” I laughed at how I had once believed the story was plausible. “I was a weird kid. Then I’d watch the tourists and imagine where they came from. Sometimes I’d dream they’d take me with them. Though back then it was a lot less kidnappy and a lot more exciting.”

He leaned into me. “You were a weird kid.”

I pushed his hard shoulder and he barely moved. “You mean to tell me you never did anything dumb as a kid?”

“I used to pretend to be sick.” He shrugged.

“Like,sicksick?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, not really. Little things like a fever or bellyache. When one of us was sick, it was the only time Mom took off work to be with us instead of the nanny. I even made notes to rotate my sicknesses.”

Jesus, that’s sad.

When a knock sounded at the door, my eyes went wide, and my sudden sadness for Beckett’s loveless childhood evaporated. “Hello?” a female voice called out as we heard the front door opening.

“Fuck.” Beckett stood and stormed out of the living room.

Stranded and still naked, I pulled the blanket around me and stood up.

I could hear murmuring down the long hallway toward the home’s entrance, and moments later Beckett came walking in, wearing only gym shorts and a strange expression.

From behind him, dressed in a flowing silky top, wide-leg pants, and heels, was his mother.

“Oh, Kate. Hello, dear.”

EIGHTEEN

BECKETT

If Kate could shootdaggers from her eyes, she would have killed me where I stood. Not that I blamed her. The unexpected arrival of my mother was enough of an inconvenience, topped off by the fact that Kate was wearing nothing but a fur-lined blanket.

There was no denying what was happening at the Miller vacation home.

“If you’ll please excuse me, Mrs. Miller.” Kate offered a strained smile as she continued to stare at me like I was the devil himself.

Hurrying past us, Kate disappeared down the hall.

“Well,” my mother started.

“Don’t,” I interjected. Tension wound itself through my back and shoulders.

My mother raised her hands and innocently lifted her eyebrows. “I didn’t say a thing.”

I looked at her and at the smug smile she tried to hide. “You were about to. What are you doing here?”

Mom blinked twice. “Well, that’s silly. Is this not my house?”

I sighed. “You haven’t been here in years. You hate this town and this house.”

“Precisely.” Her smile grew. “We’re finally doing it. Selling it. My assistant will be up tomorrow, so I can have her label and box anything I might want to keep.” Her eyes slid over the house with bored displeasure. “Not that I imagine there will be much.”

A soft throat clearing had us both turning to see Kate, dressed now and with her eyes cast to the floor. “Excuse me.”

She was nervous. Scared. Not at all like the spitfire I had been getting to know. I fucking hated it.

“I wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

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