“Wait—is that my sock?” Beckett reached for herhead.
Daisy ducked away. “Yep.” She smiled sweetly, feeling like she had the upper hand for the first time since she’d seen him sleeping. He’d looked so peaceful, so nonthreatening a couple hours ago. My, how things change in thedaylight.
“Can I have itback?”
“In …” She made a show of checking the clock on the microwave. “About twentyminutes.”
Beckett sighed a mighty sigh, the kind of sigh that carried the weight of a thousand miles. “Come on, Daisy. That’s my only pair of socks. Twenty minutes won’t matter.” He reached for theclip.
Though she had felt bad for taking the sock earlier, his scaring her when she shut the fridge wiped her conscience clean. She covered her head with her arms. “No. I have to leave it in for four hours. I never lie to my subscribers. If I take it out early, I’ll have to redo the whole segment and I don’t have that kind of time. I’ll give you money for newsocks.”
He lowered his eyebrows. “I’m leaving with Quinton—he needed help with a cat or something.” He took a step forward, his eyes sparking withchallenge.
She danced away from his grabby hands—grabbing for her head, that is. He didn’t seem at all interested in any other part of her. Which was fine. Just stinking fine with her. She scooted around the bar with Beckett just out of arm’s reach behind her. “Stop!” sheyelled.
“No!” he yelledback.
Daisy threw a dirty look over her shoulder and picked up speed. Beckett growled low, and the sound caused her nerve endings to hum. Stupid nerve endings. Who cared if Beckett had Zac Efron blue eyes? Not her, and certainly not her flip-floppingbelly.
“Quin!” she called, pulling a barstool out from under the countertop and placing it between her and Beckett as a barrier. Beckett wagged a finger at her and winked before he dodged right. She saw his fake-out coming and stepped back, placing another barstool betweenthem.
Quinton appeared in the kitchen, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “Youbellowed?”
“Please loan Beckett a pair of socks.” She ducked behind her brother. Although, now that she was there, he didn’t look nearly as protective as a barstool. Beckett was his best friend, after all, and he outweighed Quinton by at least twenty pounds of chiseled, delicious muscle. She headed for the couch and was assaulted by molten memories of Beckett’s bare chest that made her knees weak. Beckett pursued her, his knees bent, ready to strike. She could only imagine being tackled onto the couch. Her face began to heatup.
“Sure.” Quinton shrugged. “What happened to the … oh.” He rolled his eyes at her head. “We all have to make sacrifices for beauty, bro.” He pointed to the laundry room. “There’s a basket with clean socks on the topshelf.”
Beckett glanced towards the laundry room, giving Daisy the single moment she needed to make a break for the hallway. She’d lock herself in her room until these two were gone. Quinton was right behind her, still brushing his teeth. She flipped around, walking backwards. “You could have told me he was here,” she hissed. “What good is having a big brother if he invites the Big Bad Wolf into thehouse?”
At least her brother had the good sense to appear repentant—for about three seconds. He pointed at her head. “Don’t touch hisstuff.”
She blew araspberry.
“Did you really steal his sock?” His voice held a note of admiration that made her laugh and let her know that there were no hardfeelings.
“Like a ninja.” She shut herself in her room and locked the door, Quinton’s laughter filling the hallway. With a sigh, she leaned against the door. That was … fun. Really fun. It’d been a long time since a guy had chased her around the kitchen. She tapped her fingertips together like an evil scientist. She’d have to figure out how to make that happenagain.
Chapter Three
Beckett staredinto 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 DaisyCovington.
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 sixteenthbirthday.
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 onewhole.
Beckett wanted that. He wanted a woman who made him feel like he wasenough.
He kind of liked that Daisy tookhissock. 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 Daisyclose.
Quinton came back in, sans toothbrush and no longer foaming at themouth.
“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 thismorning.
“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 forthisredhead. “I think I ticked heroff.”
Quinton’s head whipped around. “She’s overit.”
