“Yeah?”
“You’re gushing.”
“Mom!” Daisy’s eyes darted to the front door, the only thing keeping Beckett from hearing every word she said. She fought to free her hand from the extra-long sleeve and pressed it to her warm face. “I’mnotgushing over Beckett Kingsley.”
“You are, and since you’re denying it, I’m all the more worried that you might have feelings for this man.”
“He’s not aman; he’s Beckett.” He was a man, all right, but there was no way Daisy was going to let her mom think she was looking at himthatway. Her thoughts caught on something her mom said like they’d run under a clothesline and forgot to duck. “What do you mean, you’re worried? Why would you be worried?” Beckett was like the third Covington growing up—her mom loved him.
Mom sighed. “He’s a rolling stone, darling. He rolled right away from his parents, from us, the moment he graduated high school, and he’s been rolling ever since. I’m afraid you’d give him your heart and he’d tuck it under his arm and roll away from you too.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Mom.” Her face now burned as if she wore a charcoal face mask. Those things were killer on her sensitive skin. “My heart is safe from the likes of Beckett Kingsley.”
“You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders and a beautiful heart.”
Daisy smiled and continued to fan her face. “I learned from the best.”
“I’ve got to go. Your father made fresh orange juice.”
“He’s so sweet.”
Mom chuckled. “That’s why I keep him around.”
“Don’t forget to send the pictures, okay? I want to put together a montage of him for this first episode.”
“I’ll take care of it this afternoon.”
They said I-love-yous and goodbyes and hung up. Daisy tossed her phone on the bench and ripped her arms out of the hoodie, suddenly needing some space between her and anything of Beckett’s. She struggled to get the shirt all the way over her head with her hair in the way. Dancing around the porch, she twisted and turned before finally escaping and throwing the garment to the ground.
Cold air assaulted her skin and she threw her arms out to the side, soaking up the chill. She breathed deeply. Daisy loved her mother very much, but sometimes it was hard to have a mom who was always right. Beckett had caught her attention and she may have developed a tiny crush on the guy. There was nothing wrong with a little crush or with flirting with a crush. She could handle that without giving her heart to Beckett, right?
Yes.She nodded to herself.Yes, I can.
Although, as she picked up his sweatshirt and brought it to her face to smell, she wondered if she really believed that or if she was trying to convince herself. Avoiding Beckett would be easy today, but she wouldn’t be so lucky tomorrow when they filmed the first episode.
Chapter Seven
EverDayGlam!Beauty Tip
Early mornings, or late nights (wink! wink!), can get the best of any girl. Clear up dark, puffy circles under the eyes with this simple trick.
Soak two cotton balls in cold whipping cream, squeeze lightly, and place over the eyes for ten minutes. The cream will smooth and soothe skin, brighten the overall tone, and even fight those pesky wrinkles. The cold will help to reduce the swelling and puffiness.
In just a few short minutes, you’ll look bright-eyed and beautiful.
Beckett rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to clear the sleep from his brain.
“Don’t do that; you’ll cause wrinkles.” Daisy’s light touch pulled his hands away from his eyes. He blinked, working to focus on her flawless face. The whites of her eyes were luminescent. Her skin was creamy and smooth. He knew she had on makeup, probably lots of it, but she looked fresh. Fresh as just-picked strawberries. And her hair? Her hair hung in long waves on either side of her face, brushing over both her shoulders and down her … her … front.
He would not think about Daisy’s … front. Even though she stood less than six inches away and continually ran her hands through his hair. Her gentle touch stirred all sorts of thoughts and feelings inside of him. How long had it been since a woman ran her fingers through his hair? Years? He wasn’t a monk, but developing relationships to the level of intimacy required for any closeness to happen was difficult when he moved every three to five months.
Irritated at himself, he swatted her hands away. “What are you doing?”
She harrumphed at him. “I’m trying to decide if we should leave your hair down or pull it back.”
“Pull it back,” said Vivian without looking up from the computer. “It ages him like fifteen years.”
“I think you’re right,” added Daisy.
