Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
With a nod, I motion for Riley to follow me out the back door, and he knows that it’s time for him to do his business.
Glancing back at the house, I can see Beckett moving about my kitchen. His broad shoulders in that bloody hot gray button-down might be enough to make a girl pregnant.
And don’t even get me started on his arms. The way his biceps fill out those sleeves pushed up, and his forearms flex and move, showing off muscles and veins when he drives or eats or anything. Beckett Blackwell is a large, imposing man, yet I don’t know that I’ve ever felt safer.
Which is daft because I barely know him.
And my instincts have been wrong before.
However, I know his sister very well, and I believe in my heart of hearts that if there was anything to worry about, physically, where this man is concerned, Bee and our friends would have warned me.
Because they’ve come to be as close to me as family, and I trust them.
“That’s a good boy,” I croon to Riley when he’s finished and we go back inside.
Beckett’s leaning against my counter, his ankles crossed, and his arms folded over his chest, showing off more of those arms.
“I have Earl Grey or Irish breakfast tea,” I inform Beckett as the water in the kettle boils. “Do you have a preference?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he says, watching me as I prepare our tea. He hasn’t moved from his position at the counter. “Are you nervous?”
Tilting my head to the side as I ponder that question, I pull down the tea bags and put one in each mug, then pour the hot water.
“Perhaps a little, if I’m being honest.”
“Always be honest,” he says and nods when I hold up the honey, wordlessly asking him if he’d like some.
So I doctor his up the same way I do mine, and then we take our mugs into the living room and sit on my overstuffed sofa.
“I’m not nervous in the sense that I’m uncomfortable with you,” I inform him as I set my tea aside to cool. “But I don’t date, so having any man who isn’t my brother or Mik in my house is unsettling.”
“Who’s Mik?” He sips his tea, yet doesn’t seem jealous or angry with the question, which is a good thing. The Arsehole had a creepy fixation on Mik, and I won’t let another man threaten my dearest friend ever again.
“Mikhail was my dance partner. Every major performance I’ve ever danced since I was sixteen has included him as my co-lead.”
“That’s a tight bond,” he replies. “Sometimes those relationships turn into romantic ones.”
Grinning at him over the rim of my cup, I take a sip of my tea, then set it aside and kick my shoes off, but before I can pull my legs up under me, Beckett tugs them into his lap and rests his hand on my shin. I don’t mind the physical contact at all. In fact, his touch is nice, igniting something in me that’s been long dormant.
“Sometimes it does, yes. But not for us. He’s like a brother to me, and his husband might take issue with Mik and I starting something up.”
“Ah.” Beckett nods thoughtfully. “How deep can my questions get here tonight, Irish?”
“You’re in my home, holding on to my legs, drinking tea. I’d say you can ask me pretty much whatever you like.”
Whether or not I answer every question with the full truth remains to be seen. I do feel safe with this man, and I trust him—surprisingly, given we’ve spent so little time together.
Do I want him to know all my secrets? I guess I’ll see how this goes, and if I tell him, I tell him.
“I’d like to know more about Riley and why you need a service dog.”
Nodding, I finish my tea and turn in my seat, facing him more fully. “To answer that, I need to back it up to why I no longer dance, as they’re linked. But I’ll warn you, it’s a long tale.”
“I have all night. Actually, hold that thought.”
Holding up a finger, he digs his phone out of his pocket and, rather than send a text, he taps the screen, sets it on speaker, and someone answers, “Hey, boss.”
“Hi, Brad. I need a favor. I know you took care of everything this evening, and I appreciate it. I need someone to look after things in the morning as well. I might be back in time, but I don’t want to rush.”
“No worries, we’ll handle things. Good night, boss.”
“Thanks.” He hangs up, stuffs his phone back in his pocket, and grins at me. “There. Now I have all night.”
“Did you just blow off your duties for me?”
“I don’t think you realize what I’d be willing to do for you, Skyla. But I think you’ll learn. Talk to me. What happened?”