Page 68 of One Touch

“Fuck,” Beckett muttered. He glanced at me. “When I say run,run.”

My eyes went wide.

“Run!” Like a shot, Beckett took off across the yard. I didn’t listen but only rolled to my stomach, watching the ridiculous scene in front of me unfold.

Determined, Bartleby squawked and chased after Beckett. I held my breath and covered my mouth to keep the laughter from escaping.

Beckett zigged and zagged, but Bartleby was relentless. “You mean motherfucker! I will bury you next to Eggburt!”

That did it.

I lost it and dissolved into a fit of giggles, rolling onto my back. I only pulled myself together and stood in time to shield Beckett as he ran past me.

I spread my arms wide. “Shoo! Go!” I flapped my outstretched arms toward the rooster, and Bartleby skidded and hopped to a halt. “Go on. Go!” I stepped toward him, and with a low, grumbly bawk-bawk, he gave up the fight.

Bartleby finally retreated, leaving Beckett breathless as he brushed himself off and tried to act like he wasn’t embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

I couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him, my tough and confident contractor, wearing smeared paint and looking shaken up by a yard bird.

I knew I shouldn’t tease him too much, but I couldn’t resist. “Huh. I don’t think he likes you.”

Beckett shot me a scowl that nearly threw me into a fresh fit of laughter, but I bit it back.

“I hate that fucking bird.”

My sides ached from laughing. Despite his broody disposition, there was a playful side to Beckett that was endearing. A side he tried so hard to keep hidden. There was so much more to him that I hadn’t seen before, a side I was falling for and could no longer ignore.

TWENTY-FOUR

BECKETT

The crew had leftfor the day, Kate was off at her book club, and I was in a shit mood.

It terrified me that I already missed her—the sound of her voice, her laugh, the way she carried herself with my crew, doling out compliments one minute and confidently giving instructions the next.

This is not good.

The materials for the back entryway had finally been delivered, and their late arrival had put us behind schedule. Not that it mattered. I didn’t mind drawing out this project to spend more time with Kate, but Tootie deserved to live in her home, and I was getting tired of coming up with excuses whenever my assistant, Gloria, asked me why I wasn’t meeting our deadlines.

When I heard the front door open, my heartbeat ticked up, hoping Kate had changed her mind about going into town. I popped my head out of the back room and saw Red Sullivan slowly walking in, inspecting the renovations.

Shit.

I glanced around, not seeing any of the Sullivans who might be accompanying their father.

“Hey there, Red.” I walked over confidently, offering my hand. “I’m Beckett, a friend of Duke’s and working on the house.”

I knew quite a bit about his condition through Duke and knew providing him with cues and information in a way that didn’t come off as condescending was often helpful.

“I know who you are.” Red took my hand and gave me a proper once-over, hiding the shadows of uncertainty that still lingered in his eyes. “You got tall.”

I smiled at the man I’d known since I was a teenager, a man who often felt more like a father than my own. “Yes, sir.”

A pang of sympathy shot through me. Red’s memories often faded or got confused. Some were downright forgotten. I could imagine it would be disorienting to see so many changes to the house he grew up in, started a family in. Maybe that was why Duke had been hesitant to share the details of the renovation despite Lee’s subtle urging to include him.

I was reminded of when Kate had put me in my place about the farmhouse. It wasn’t just a reno job. For them, this home was the keeper of their memories—good and bad. It was a testament to what the Sullivans had gone through, what they were still going through.

It was why I needed to make it perfect for them.

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