“Couldn’t sleep after morning practice,” he said. “Figured I’d make myself useful.”
Naomi made a tiny choking sound that might have been laughter.
I forced a smile that felt about as steady as a house of cards. “Great. Because what we really need right now,” I said, voice tight, “is enthusiasm.”
He smirked, leaning on the doorframe. “Good thing I brought plenty.”
Naomi kicked me under the desk, muttering, “You’re so dead.”
She wasn’t wrong. Because no amount of coffee—or aspirin—was going to save me from this particular hangover.
Beckett strolled in like he was auditioning for the role of my personal tormentor. The door hadn’t even finished swinging shut before he dropped a clipboard onto my desk with a crack loud enough to make Naomi and me both flinch.
“Morning, sunshine!” he announced, far too cheerful for someone who’d witnessed me at my lowest.
I winced. “Why are you yelling?”
He leaned against the doorway, all smug and infuriating. “Just projecting. You know, since you were yelling at me on the phone last night about dream crimes.”
Naomi froze mid-sip of her iced coffee. Then her head snapped toward me, eyes wide and gleaming with mischief. “Dream crimes?”
I groaned. “Naomi, don’t.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely doing,” she said, grinning like she’d been waiting her whole life for this.
Beckett’s smirk deepened, feeding off my misery. “Yeah,” he said, looking way too pleased with himself. “She accused me of seducing her in her subconscious. Then hung up to go dance with another man who turned out to be you, apparently.”
Naomi nearly spit out her coffee. “You what?” she gasped, turning back to me. “Ellery!”
“I hate both of you,” I said, sinking lower in my chair until the desk almost hid me.
Naomi cackled, full-blown delighted now. “I knew I liked you,” she said to Beckett. “You’re chaos with muscles.”
He gave a modest shrug, clearly thriving. “I try.”
“I’m resigning,” I muttered, covering my face with one hand. “Effective immediately.”
Beckett’s laugh rumbled low and warm. “Nope. You still owe me coffee for babysitting you.”
I peeked through my fingers to glare at him. “I don’t recall signing any agreement that involved public humiliation.”
He grinned. “You called me ten times, James. And that was after I showed up. Public humiliation was part of the deal.”
Naomi clapped a hand over her mouth, snorting into her drink. “Ten? Oh, this just keeps getting better.”
I shot her a look that could have leveled small buildings. “Naomi.”
“Ellery,” she said sweetly. “You’re living my favorite rom-com.”
Beckett folded his arms, that crooked smile still playing on his lips. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not judging. I’ve been told I leave quite the impression.”
“That’s one word for it,” I muttered.
“What’s another?”
“Infuriating.”
He chuckled, low and genuine, and for some reason, the sound did something unsettling to my stomach. He leaned forward, resting his hands on my desk, eyes gleaming with mischief.
