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“Yeah, well, some douchebags need a little nudge in the right direction.”
“Are you the douchebag in this scenario?”
“Definitely.” I grin, stepping closer to kiss her again until a group of guests wander our way.
Whispers filter down that Olivia and Hunter are almost ready for their first dance, and I internally curse them for the age-old tradition.
“I guess that’s our cue.” I point toward the party up on the hill, not even bothering to hide my disappointment. “You ready?”
I move to take a step until Lily’s fingers curl around my wrist, making me pause. “Wait.” She stills me as I glance back. “I didn’t get to thank you.” Her apologetic gaze has me confused and because of that, I laugh.
“How were you going to thank me?”
“Ahh. I…” She trails off as a deep hue spreads across her chest, drawing my eyes as it creeps up to her face. She blinks a few times, and I’m so lost in the idea that I made her blush that it takes longer than it should for me to figure out why.
“Shit.” I snap out of my stupor. “Sorry, I meant to say why were you going to thank me? Not how.” Jesus, Beckett.
Lily giggles softly, and the sound of it takes hold of my heart and squeezes it tightly until I’m struggling to focus.
“I wanted to thank you for looking after Ava,” she tells me. “You’re my hero…and hers.”
Her eyes bore into mine, and I nod a few times, giving myself a moment until I’m finally able to speak. “Anyone would have done the same. I was just the first to get there.”
“That may be so, but it means a lot to me. And I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
Chapter Twelve
LILY
Beckett tilts his head, an argument forming on his lips before I’ve even finished speaking, and his entire demeanor changes. A few minutes ago he was confident and bold, but now he’s almost shying away from me.
“I’m happy to have helped, but you don’t need to thank me. Ava and I had a great time.” When he smiles, little creases appear beside his eyes, and my heart melts.
After our late-night chat on Halloween, I’m not ashamed to say I’ve spent a lot of time focused on Beckett’s smile. I’ve watched his press interviews, spent more time than I should walking past the photos on his mom’s wall, and even saw another one of his games on TV.
I can categorically say that he’s nailed the art of perceived happiness.
Yet, I never believed a single one of his smiles. Except maybe the stilted grin he shot Hunter when he all but forced him onto the podium.
This smile right now is completely different from anything I’ve seen, and he’s thinking about my daughter.
“I might even be able to persuade her to support the Storm,” he continues, laughing freely.
“Oh, yeah?” I pull myself from my thoughts and match his new infectious energy. “And how do you suppose you’ll do that?” I purse my lips to hide my grin.
“By persuading her mom.”
God, I am so there already. I’m seconds away from dying my hair turquoise. “I’d like to see you try.” The lie leaves my mouth smoothly, but from Beckett’s smirk, he sees right through it.
I’m a goner. One kiss had me swoony. Two and I’m dead.
That’s without processing the fact that I kissed him. Me. The woman who never puts herself out there. At least not anymore.
“Two minutes until the first dance,” someone calls out and I jump at the intrusion. Shit.
“We should—”
“Let’s get—”
