Beckett stared into the basket of socks while he replayed the chase scene in the kitchen. Daisy hadn’t changed much in personality—thank goodness. She still had that honest innocence in her wide eyes that hit him right in the chest. The areas she had changed were all good. He couldn’t make out much under that heavy sweater, but her delicate wrists and adorable feet were enough to intrigue him. He’d thought about tackling her onto the couch, his body growing warm with the idea of full-body sports with Daisy Covington.
He pushed the unwholesome thoughts aside and concentrated on finding footwear so he could get out of the house and shake off the yearning to storm the hallway and claim that kiss that should have been his on Daisy’s sixteenth birthday.
There were at least five pair of socks that hadn’t been matched up yet and a half dozen that didn’t have matches. The socks reminded him of his last night in El Zacapa. The chief threw him a party complete with traditional dances and the fatted calf roasting over an open spit. They ate fruit and then settled around the fire for stories. Normally, Beckett enjoyed a party, but this time, all he could see was the empty spot beside him. The circle was rimmed with couples. They didn’t hold hands like Americans. Instead, they touched shoulders, knees, thighs, and even hips. In some cases, it was difficult to tell where one person stopped and the other began. That’s what the people believed, that the two parts made one whole.
Beckett wanted that. He wanted a woman who made him feel like he was enough.
He kind of liked that Daisy took his sock. Daisy’s socks were probably folded neatly and lined up in a drawer. That was all beside the point. The point was, he liked seeing part of him with her. He’d only half-tried to get it back. He’d been about to wrap her up in his arms for a hello hug and maybe a bit of an I’d-like-to-get-reacquainted moment when Quinton came into the room. Even with that weird plastic on her head, she was beautiful and funny and sassy and sweet. Her older brother had put a huge damper on the warm feelings spreading throughout his body at the idea of holding Daisy close.
Quinton came back in, sans toothbrush and no longer foaming at the mouth.
“Maybe I should go.” Beckett began folding the blanket he’d kicked off in the middle of the night. He briefly wondered if that was before or after Daisy came in to pillage his supplies. Recalling his state of undress, he truly hoped the blanket lasted long enough to keep him covered during her visit. Sheesh, no wonder she stared at him funny first thing this morning.
“Why?”
“Daisy …” He trailed off, running his hand down his scraggly beard. He couldn’t exactly tell Quin Daisy was hot, nor could he throw out that he’d had a slight crush on her since the first day they moved into the neighborhood. Her mop of hair was the reason Beckett had a thing for redheads. After seeing Daisy face-to-face, seeing how she’d grown up into a classy, beautiful woman full of spirit, he had to admit that he didn’t have a thing for redheads. He had a thing for this redhead. “I think I ticked her off.”
Quinton’s head whipped around. “She’s over it.”
“But—”
“Seriously, she was laughing. It’s no big deal.”
There was a knock at the door that drew Quinton away and ended Beckett’s opportunity to insist he head to a hotel.
“Hey, Vivian.” Quinton’s ears turned bright red—a sure sign he found the woman attractive. Beckett smothered the smile, instantly sliding into the role of wingman.
He took a step back. The soft way Quinton said her name spoke to his level of interest. Vivian hustled into the house, followed closely by a young boy. Both had straight black hair and deep brown eyes. Vivian’s hair hung over the right side of her face and swooped back like a Charlie’s Angel’s do without as much volume. Her dark eyes were all made up like she was going clubbing, and she had on a flowing shirt and tight black pants. The boy hung tight to her side, his eyes wide as he stared at Beckett.
Beckett had seen that look a hundred times. He checked Vivian for a wedding ring, praying the man that put the fear in the child’s eyes was no longer in his life. Her left hand was bare. He lifted his eyes and found that she’d caught him checking for a ring. Well, that was just great.
Quinton shut the door. “Vivian, this is Beckett, my friend. Beckett, this is Vivian and Jason Jin. Vivian is Daisy’s editor.”
“Editor?” Quinton focused on folding blankets.
“Videographer,” Vivian threw in. Like that explained anything.
Quinton leaned over so he was at Jason’s level. “Do you want something to eat?”
Vivian draped her arm across Jason’s shoulders. “We just had breakfast.”
Beckett tucked his chin. So the damage was to both of them, but mom was better at hiding it than Jason. She was strong, he’d give her that. Good. She’d saved her son. Beckett had seen what happened to kids who didn’t get out from under the heavy hand of physical abuse. He hated that things like this even happened. With quick snaps, he folded the sheet and set it aside.
Quinton motioned for them to follow him. “I’ll bet you didn’t have Pop Tarts.”
The kid brightened. Vivian rolled her eyes. “You can have one.”
“Can I put it in the toaster?” Jason asked.
“You bet,” Quinton replied.
Beckett hung back. He finished putting the couch to rights and even fluffed the throw pillows before putting them in place. Quinton called him into have a bowl of cereal. He ate, mostly listening as Jason talked about school and the science project he was excited about. When he was done, he rinsed his bowl and set it in the dishwasher before retrieving his toothbrush and heading towards the bathroom. Just as he got to the end of the hallway, Daisy’s door swung open. She stepped out and then right back holding the door, ready to shut it if he charged.
Beckett blinked once and then stared. She wore a white T-shirt and white yoga pants. But it wasn’t her clothing that had him speechless—it was her hair. He remembered it being a copper color, but it was a deep, deep sunset red. It cascaded down her shoulders, across her chest, and hung so far down her back he could get lost in it for days. Her skin was creamy and flawless and her eyes looked even bigger than they had a half hour ago.
He reached right out and fingered a strand of her hair. “How did you fit all this inside my sock?” The words made it past his filter. He dropped her hair, feeling like a complete idiot.
Daisy smirked. “You’ll have to watch my channel to find out.” She handed him twenty dollars. “Thanks for the loaner. I’ll have it washed before you get back.” She winked. “Go buy yourself something pretty.”
He chuckled. “I’m not taking your money.”
“Why not?”
“Because …” He closed the distance between them and dug his fingers into her hair. She stiffened at first and then melted as he allowed her hair to slip through his fingers like fine silk. “This was totally worth it.”
Her eyes softened. “That was the worst line I’ve ever heard.”
He opened his mouth to protest. He wasn’t feeding her a line. He meant it. He’d go without socks for a month to be able to do that again.
“But, it was the best delivery.”
He scrubbed her fingers against her scalp and her body shivered.
Beckett’s hands moved towards her sides. He wasn’t thinking, only acting on instinct, and all his instincts told him to hold her close.
“Are you two still fighting?” Quinton brushed past them and grabbed his shoes out of his room.
Beckett put space between him and Daisy. She did the same, her back pressed against the wall as she stepped away. He took in a breath, the air colder now that he wasn’t sharing it with Daisy. “Not fighting,” Beckett assured him. “Just a little flirting.” He smiled at the pink dusting that appeared on Daisy’s cheeks.
“Dude—that’s my sister. Don’t.” Quinton smacked the back of Beckett’s head. “We’re going to be late.” He turned to Daisy. “Vivian and Jason are in the kitchen.”
“Great.” She headed that direction and didn’t look back.
Beckett wished she’d looked back. They’d had a moment. Well, he’d had a moment. He thought she’d had one too. He didn’t go around touching women’s hair—ever.
Were his social skills really that off?
He hadn’t been out of the country for that long.
“You ready?” prompted Quinton.
“Just have to brush my teeth.” And forget the feel of Daisy’s hair in my fingers. Because that was one of those things that had imprinted itself into his brain so he could pull it out on dark nights far from home. Although, he had a feeling he’d be thinking about it all day today too.