Page 71 of Blindside Sinner

But I’ve seen the other side of him, too. I know there’s goodness in there somewhere.

Vivian sniffles haughtily and starts rattling through the next month’s critical items. Sponsor meetings, marketing appearances, that kind of thing. I listen diligently and make notes, though I keep stealing peeks at Beck the whole time. He doesn’t move. It’s like he’s a statue, with a melancholy distance in his eyes that makes me weirdly uncomfortable.

When we’re done, she waves us out without so much as a goodbye. “Shut the door behind you.”

I gulp and do as she says.

When we’re in the hall outside her office, Beck turns to me. “I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, Sloan. I can handle Viv myself.”

“Really? Didn’t seem much like it when she was talking smack about you in front of your face.”

“If I gave a shit what she thinks, I would tell her to go screw herself. But I sure as hell don’t need you to do it for me.”

“You’re pissed off at me for saying nice things to her on your behalf?”

I shake my head. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. There is something seriously wrong with this guy. Maybe that bump on the skull affected him more than anyone realized. Knocked the ability to be grateful right out of his body.

I turn because I can’t stand to look at him anymore and head to the car. He can either follow or take a cab. I don’t really care at this point.

It’s only a few seconds after I get into the car that he slides into the front passenger seat. “Sloan.” His voice is soft and I look at him. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“I shouldn’t have thrown the coffee at you.”

“Shouldn’t have done that, either.”

“And I’m sorry. For both. For everything.”

His words hang heavy in the cramped quiet of the car. I want so badly to nuzzle up against them.He’s sorry! Now, everything can go back to normal!

But it can’t. Because as much as I do believe in the goodness buried in Beckett Daniels’s heart, the fact of the matter is that it’s burieddeep.And I’m not the girl who can help him dig it up.

I have too much pain of my own to dig through.

The longer my silence stretches on, the more I can see him frowning out of the corner of my eye. “Let me… make it up to you,” he says. “Let me take you out to lunch.”

“Makewhatup to me?” I want to hear him say it. Ineedto hear it.

“For being an asshole. For saying cruel things. I didn’t mean them, I swear. I’m just… I have a lot of shit. I know that, and I know you know that, but I figure it bears repeating.” He tilts his head and the light catches his eyes in just the way to make it look like this might mean something to him. I want to believe it does. I really, really want to believe it. “I can admit when I’m wrong.”

I shouldn’t believe him.

But at the end of the day, one thing settles it above all: I’mhungry.

“Alright. Lunch sounds good.”

I’m starting to wonder about him. One minute, he’s got the mile-wide smile of a guy who just struck the lottery; the next, he’s the grumpiest man on earth. I can’t keep up with those mood swings. As attractive as he is, as sweet as he can be, there’s just too much poison mixed in with the good stuff.

But, for a little while at least, food can solve the issue. And I know exactly what I want to eat.

Beck raises his eyebrows when we pull into the parking lot of Rusty’s. “I say ‘anything you want’ and you choose a twenty-four hour diner?”

“Bacon, French fries, and the best coconut cream pie you’ve ever had. It’s the food of heaven.”

He chuckles and the sound makes my ears happy. I can’t help grinning. For one fraction of a moment, it’s like all is forgotten. It isn’t, of course, but we can pretend.

“My body is my temple,” he jokes.

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