Beck wasn’t planning on staying long. Hell, he hadn’t planned on staying for dinner; he’d given the boys a ride back from town after Nate’s truck died and was towed to the garage. It had already been a crazy week, and he had a full day of work scheduled for Friday. His plan was to finish up the bungalow by day’s end and fit in a couple of appointments he had with his Realtor to look at a few properties he was considering for his next project. With a buyer already in hand for his current one, he was eager to find something else to work on.
They’d just finished eating. He and Link insisted on cleaning the kitchen while the girls relaxed in the living room and Nate took Petal out back. He stacked the last dish in the dishwasher and rolled his shoulders, eyes on the girls as they giggled about something. Poppy and Sid were having an animated discussion about the Kardashians and pop culture, while Molly looked content to put up her feet and listen.
“I’d ask which one you’ve got your eyes on, but it’s pretty obvious.” Link cracked open a beer and leaned against the counter.
“You don’t know shit,” Beck replied, shaking his head. The Brit was always looking to stir the pot. Not for the first time, he wondered when the hell the guy was headed back to Europe to play soccer.
“I know enough,” he said. “Trust me.”
Beck didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he folded the pizza boxes into the recycling bin and ignored the man.
“Of course, if you don’t lay claim, then that means it’s open pickings for me.”
“You sound like a dick. Even for a guy.”
The man had a reputation, that was for sure. And there’d been several women from town who’d thought to catch him, but so far, the Brit had proved elusive.
“I wouldn’t get too excited.” Beck chuckled. “Poppy knows better, and you’re not Sid’s type.”
“You know her that well, do ya? This Sidney from San Diego with her creamy skin and all that long, dark hair.”
Beck frowned. From what he’d observed, the footballer had a thing for Poppy. His eyes were never far from her, and he’d been more than eager to sit beside her at dinner. Good luck with that. Poppy Fairbanks was a bit of a mystery to most of the men in town. She didn’t date, and she sure as hell didn’t let anyone touch. At least according to locker room talk, which Beck knew not to take too much stock in. Guys were worse than women when it came to gossip.
Poppy was a nice girl, but she was also aloof. According to his brother, who knew her better than Beck did, she’d gone to LA straight out of high school and had come back a different person.
Nate walked in just then, Petal hot on his heels, and looked at the men. “Anyone up for a game of pool?”
“Not me,” Beck said. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow, so I’m up early, and then there’s that damn kitten. She can’t be left alone for too long. I’m even running home at noon to give her some attention, which is ridiculous.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?” Molly was in the kitchen now, hand on the small of her back, and good Lord, but her belly was huge.
“I came home the other day, and the drapes that hang in the front window were in a pile on the floor, and she’d knocked over my coffee cup, which had coffee in it, and that was a sticky mess, and she played in her litter box, and that crap was everywhere, including the sticky mess of coffee.”
“Have you named her yet?” Sidney asked. She and Poppy had followed Molly into the kitchen, and they stood a few feet away.
Beck made a face. “Jingle.”
“What was that, mate?” Link laughed.
“Jingle. Her damn collar has balls on it that jingle when she runs around, which is a lot. Kept me up for hours last night. I think she’s the spawn of Satan. She can’t be normal.”
“It’s called a kitten,” Molly replied. “And that’s totally normal.”
“Whatever she is, I need to get back to her while my house is still standing.”
“You done with the bungalow?” Molly asked.
“I should be tomorrow. I’m looking at a place down by the park and then the old church by the river.”
“I thought it was condemned.”
“It’s in rough shape, but I’m thinking it could be interesting. It’s on a good-sized lot, two acres at least.”
Molly looked confused. “What would you do with it?”
“I’d make it into a home.” Up until now, he hadn’t really thought about it, but the idea took root, and excitement bloomed in his chest.
“Does it have stained glass?” Sid asked, taking a step closer.
He nodded. “It was built in the 1800s. All brick, with large stained-glass windows and the kind of workmanship that’s hard to come by these days.”
“Why is it empty?”
“I think folks stopped going to church, and they couldn’t afford to keep it with such low numbers, so they just closed up.”
“That’s sad,” Sidney murmured. “A place built in love and faith to just be abandoned like that.”
Beck wasn’t a particularly religious man, but he saw her point.
“I did a series of videos on old churches in the South a few years back,” she said. “The detail and architecture on a lot of them was impressive, and the stories of the people they belonged to were incredibly inspiring.”
“Videos?” Link asked. “What is it exactly that you do?”
Beck noted the surprise on her cheeks and the way she averted her gaze. The woman didn’t like calling attention to herself. Which was odd considering her job. He’d googled her a few days back and had been surprised himself to see that Sidney Barrett was a bona fide celebrity in her field. An up-and-coming Martha Stewart. It added another layer to the woman that made her more interesting.
“I have a lifestyle show and website,” she said. “As well as every social media platform you can think of.”
Link winked. “So you’re on the telly.”
“I am.”
“I’ll follow you on Instagram if you follow me.”
I’ll think about it,” she replied wryly.
“You should take Sid to see the church,” Molly said. There was an awkward pause as Link, Sid and Beck looked her way. “I mean, if she wants to go see it.”
Beck was happy to give Sid an out, considering she’d been put on the spot. “I’m sure Sid has better things to do other than poke around old abandoned churches.”
“Actually, I’d love to see it.”
It probably should have surprised Beck that the thought of sharing his work and this church in particular should feel good, but he didn’t dwell on it too much. “It’s an early trip. I’m meeting Olivia at seven thirty, so I’ll be heading out shortly after seven.”
“I’ll be ready.” Her answer was light, though she didn’t quite meet his gaze. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but since Beck wasn’t the best at reading signals on a good day, right now he was tired and decided it was best not to overthink.
“Okay.” Beck took a step back. “I should go. Thanks for the pizza, bro. I’ll see you Saturday.”
“What’s happening on Saturday?” Molly asked, clearly puzzled.
Nate dropped a kiss to her nose. “Our hockey tournament and the dinner and dance.”
“Oh. Right.” She chuckled. “Pregnancy brain.”
“Yeah, well, don’t feel bad. It’s spreading.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Molly teased lightly.
“I just got a text from the garage. Nothing catastrophic took down my truck. It was, ah, out of gas.”
“Takes balls to admit something like that.” Beck laughed. He said his goodbyes and headed back to his place. When he got there, he cut the engine and stared up at the dark house for a few moments. The house was nothing to look at it; in fact, it held no warm fuzzies for him either. It was just a place to hang his hat and hold the bed that he slept in.
He thought about the church and the plans inside his head. And he wondered…maybe this would be the one that finally felt like home? Bah, he thought. The Manchester place was supposed to be the one. Hell, he used to brag to Cate that he’d buy it for her. When he finally finished the house, after working on it for nearly three years, he’d walked out, and if not for his brother buying it, he’d probably never have gone back.
Not used to feeling so damn melancholy, he yanked on the door handle and slipped from the truck. He’d barely made it inside when almost immediately, a ball of purring, meowing, and shaking fur hit him in the leg and began to claw his ankles.
“Hey, there,” he said, scooping up Jingle. The little girl rubbed her head and cheeks against him, almost aggressively, and began to knead his chest with her tiny paws. She looked up at him, those green eyes of hers wide, that little mouth and those whiskers shaking as she meowed over and over again. “Geez. I haven’t been gone that long.”
She meowed, a long and plaintive wail, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
“Hey, I gotcha.”
He held her close to him as he stepped out of his boots and checked on her food and water. Both of them were in good order, and he gave her a scratch behind the ears. “At least you only emptied half the litter box on the floor today. That’s an improvement.”
He carried on to his bedroom and put her on the bed before hopping in the shower. Ten minutes later, he was stretched out on the mattress, the bundle of fur purring madly on his chest, and as Beck stared into the darkness, something stirred inside him. Some kind of feeling he hadn’t had in a long, long time.
As if she knew something had just shifted, Jingle meowed and burrowed as close to him as she could. It was no use locking her in the mudroom because all she did was meow her damn head off, and he’d already been through too many sleepless nights since she arrived.
Beck closed his eyes, the purring machine next to him, and thought the guys would razz him good if they could see him. But really, he didn’t give a damn. In fact, his mind was on other things, because along with that mysterious feeling that hung in there, tight in his chest, was the thought that it would be nice to have someone here with him from time to time. In his bed. Tucked into his side. Maybe even there in the morning when the sun came up.
The weird thing being, it wasn’t Emily’s face he saw when he closed his eyes.
The eyes that watched him from the shadows, the body curled into his, belonged to Sidney Barrett.
It was an image that stayed with him until he drifted off.