“Thank you. Okay, update me on how it goes tonight.”
“I will. Thanks, Mom.”
She’d just hung up when her phone vibrated with a text.
Becket: I’m downstairs, Peaches.
Her heart gave a little kick. She used to hate that nickname. But now? It felt kind of intimate. And whenever he used it, even if it was just in a text, her pulse took off in a sprint.
She dropped her phone into her purse and went downstairs. When she opened the door, a puff of air escaped her.
He looked good.Reallygood. He wore a white button-down shirt tonight. The sleeves were rolled up and the top couple of buttons were undone, showing just a hint of his muscled chest.
Hot. It was the only way to describe him.
“You look beautiful, Sky.”
Her eyes flashed up, colliding with his dark brown gaze.
Sky…he rarely used her name, but she liked the way he said it. Deep and gravelly. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
One side of his mouth lifted. “That’s almost a compliment.”
Her fingers twitched, wanting to run down his chest. She fisted both hands. “Should we go?”
“Absolutely.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ll just grab the tiramisu.”
She took the moment to turn away from him to breathe deeply.
Get a freaking hold of yourself, woman. He’s just a man.Granted, a man with impeccable biceps and a voice that did funny things to her lady parts. Still…
The second she returned to Becket, he took the dessert from her fingers and put his other hand on the small of her back as he led her out of the house.
“You’re still doing okay here by yourself?” he asked once they were in the car.
No. The word was a very unwelcome shout in her head. Because of course she wanted the former Navy SEAL to sleep on her couch and protect her from any future crimes. But she was a grown-ass woman, and she needed to suck it up and sleep in her house by herself. Plus, they weren’t really dating, so it wasn’t fair to keep relying on him.
“Yes.” Okay, that hadn’t come out with nearly enough conviction.
He nodded, but she didn’t miss the way his fingers clenched around the wheel. He didn’t believe her. She’d never been a good liar.
When they reached his mom’s house, she nibbled her lip.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“Not nervous. For some reason, I feel guilty about lying to your mom. Which is strange because with everyone else, the lie feels easy.”
“Don’t think about it as lying.”
She frowned. “It is a lie though.”
One side of his mouth lifted. “If it feels real to us, it’ll feel real to her.”
Her jaw dropped as he got out of the car. Was he insinuating it felt real to him?
She didn’t have time to think about it before Becket was opening her door. He helped her out and grabbed the tiramisu. When his arm curved around her waist, warmth slid over her skin, and not just the parts that he touched.
