“Chop-chop, Becklyn.” Deena pulls open the passenger door and holds it for me.
I know what she’s doing, and it’s pointless, but there’s no way I’m getting into it right now. She’s probably right to leave with him thinking I’ve got a date. At least if he assumes it’s true, I don’t leave here as pathetic. Turning, I look back at Lucky before I get in. “I guess I’ll see you.”
“You will.”
What the heck is that supposed to mean?
No. Becklyn. Stop it.All he meant was I’d see him again. Of course I will. He’s Joe’s best friend.
13
Becklyn
The knockon the door gives me pause. I glance over at Deena, who’s looking through her closet for the “perfect” outfit. Apparently, we are, in fact, going out tonight. I didn’t bother fighting her on it. It seems like a good way to forget about everything. “I’ll get it,” she says, pulling out a little black dress.
I return to my flat iron, attempting to get my naturally curly hair to settle down. As the wand is sliding down, I hear her. “What the hell do you want?”
Wow. I’ve never heard her answer the door like that. Turning, I’m shocked to see Joe and Lucky at the door. I drop the hot hair tool, burning my hand, then my leg, since all I’m wearing is a short robe. “Ouch,” I hiss.
“What happened?” Lucky pushes Joe out of his way and marches over to me. “You okay?”
I’ve got my finger in my mouth, sucking on it to get the pain to ebb. All I can do is nod.
“Babe,” he says softly, kneeling in front of me. “Let me see.”
Unable to process any of what he just said, I slide my finger out of my mouth slowly and hold it in front of him, reassuring him by saying, “It’s okay.”
He takes my hand in his and leans in closer. “You really burned it.”
“It happens all the time. Getting all dolled up can be painful.” I snicker.
“You need to be careful.” He looks down at my leg. “You burned your leg?” His hand is on top of my thigh before I can protest. His big, long, warm fingers are gently tracing around the spot and I’ve gotta tell ya, I don’t hate it.
“Jesus, Becks,” my brother snaps from the doorway. “Put some damn clothes on.”
“I—”
Deena beats me to the punch. “You barge intoourhome and think you can tell us what to do?” She’s got her hands on her hips, her foot jutted out, and the tapping has commenced. “Get over yourself, asshole.”
“This is none of your business.” Joe’s leaning in and bending a little bit so that he and Deena are inches apart. “Stay out of it.”
“Sheismy business. You make her cry every time you see her.”
“No.” Joe shakes his head. “That’s not true.” He looks over at me. When our eyes meet, he blinks. “Right, Becks?”
I’m about to get up so I can move closer to him when I feel a palm full on my thigh. Heck, one of his fingers has found its way under the hem of my robe.
“Becklyn?” He’s practically whispering.
So I whisper right back. “What?”
“Who are you going out with?”
“I told you. Nobody.”
“So, I wouldn’t know him?”
This is messing with my head. Why does he care? I go with the easiest answer. “No.”
