Lucie stands from her chair with a smile. “I got Dex to let me move my turtles in before we were together. I think I can handle getting him on board with Dottie.”
I snort a laugh. “Does the man ever tell you no?”
“Yes,” Lucie states very matter of fact. “Sometimes…when it’s needed, at least.”
After Callie got Beck’s stamp of approval and a few hours of decompressing at Lucie’s place, I now stand at the door to Beck’s townhouse.
Dottie fidgets in excitement as I stare at the spare key Dex gave me. “Hate to burst your bubble, girl, but Beck’s not here.”
I swear, she lets out a whine. When she sits and all her wiggles are gone, I take a little offense. “Hey, a little appreciation for me today would be nice.”
I shake my head when she decides to lay down on the porch with a huff.
“Thanks, that’s perfect.”
Turning the key in the deadbolt, Dottie perks back up again. I almost want to laugh at the irony of today’s events feeling like my rock-bottom, they’ve been Dottie’s dream come true.
The moment the door opens, Dottie races in, but I freeze in the entryway. Between the amazing smell, the design of this place—I nearly forget to turn the lock before walking in farther.
I honestly can’t say I expected Beck’s place to be this put together, but somehow couldn’t imagine anything different from him. There’s exposed brick in the kitchen with a butcher blockisland. Walking slowly around, I do a double-take, baseball cards are sealed on the wall for his backsplash tile.
I shake my head when I get to the living room; there’s one leather couch that Dottie has seemed to claim and then there’s a pool table. The whole living room really sells the bar feeling but in a classic Beckham Daines fashion.
The walls have varying sized posters all with pool-related puns likeless talk, more chalk, a little league baseball jersey in a shadow box, and other framed small details, like baseball tickets and a map of what looks to be Virginia.
“Of course, it’s the perfect balance of his humor and damn sentimental side,” I mumble to myself—and, I suppose, Dottie.
At the windows, Beck has so many plants that I can’t even begin to think of how to keep them alive. I couldn’t have more of a brown thumb if I tried.
Turning back, I speak more to Dottie this time. “I sure hope someone else knows what to do with those, I don’t have the first clue.” I give her small pets on the head. “You probably shouldn’t be up here either, Dot. Can’t say Beck would appreciate any accidental scratches on his leather couch. Come on, hop down.”
I pat my leg with the command, moving back around the living room and stopping at the foot of the stairs. I can’t seem to bring myself to take the first step up them. In the past five minutes, I’ve felt like Beck and I’ve done an UNO reverse and now I’m the stalker. Being here feels both right and wrong.
Pulling out my phone, there’re no messages from him about making myself at home or inappropriate jokes that really shouldn’t be funny but are because they come from him.
I click on his contact and hover over the Call button. It feels a little weird to be here and not say anything to him. Callie did say he was okay with this, maybe he just assumed she’d give me the rundown or something.
I know I should probably call and say thank you, but then again, that’ll probably be a tomorrow thing. I can’t risk any endearing comments or worse, pity from him—not tonight.
Dottie moves around my side to prance her way up the stairs with zero hesitations. Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I let out a deep breath and follow her lead. I really shouldn’t be that surprised that when we reach the top she ducks into a room that I know, without even looking, has to be Beck’s.
Walking in, I nearly laugh at her already turning circles on his bed and plopping down with ahumph,as if to say she’s not budging. “Dottie, this is getting a little out of hand. So the man goes running with us…what about me? Your owner who’s about to be homeless?”
Dottie lets out a little grumbled growl and paws at her face.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, but we should probably find a guest room.”
Dottie repeats her little growled whine before standing up, turning another circle and coiling her body up as she lays down.
“Really?” I huff. How wrong would it be for me to actually sleep in his bed?
I could lie to myself and say it’s a guest room…I take another look around, and this laugh bubbles out of me. There are more plants in here, and it’s filled with warm greens and soft browns. The comforter looks so cozy I could cry. Not to mention, his whole place smells like a crisp fall day. I’m sure all it would take is my head hitting the pillow for me to pass out.
“Fuck it,” I mutter to myself, because Dottie’s practically snoring.
Going into the bathroom, I freshen up the best I can with my gym bag essentials, and manage to find a pack of spare toothbrushes under the sink.
I don’t slow or stop to snoop further, even though I’m damn tempted to. Marching back in his room, I slide drawers open andclose until I land on his T-shirts folded up. Taking the first one I see, I peel off the last reminders of this day and pull his shirt right over my head.
