“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” He leaned across the table. “You’re not planning on taking off, are you?”
That was the problem. I hadn’t even thought about leaving Mossy Oak. Beckett wanted me to be his. He’d said the word “mine” with the same passion I’d cried out his name. I should be packing up my life in anticipation of my next move, but I hadn’t even picked up any boxes.
I hung my head in my hands, tears of frustration leaking from my eyes.
“What the hell, Thatcher?” Gabi slapped a box of chocolates on the table. “What did you do?”
“It’s not my fault,” he said. “She’s in love.”
I lowered my hands to glare at Thatcher. “I am not.”
Gabi selected a chocolate and took a bite, smiling as she chewed. “I thought I recognized that glow.”
“I am not in love.” My cheeks heated, and my heart squeezed.Was I?
“Definitely in love.” Thatcher grabbed a piece of chocolate and popped it into his mouth. “Look at that blush.”
I hated it when people pointed out my embarrassment. Didn’t they know that only made it worse? I cursed my pale skin that always gave away my thoughts.
“Spill,” Gabi said. “Is it Sloane’s boss? The one who punched the pervert?”
“His name is Beckett,” I said, feeling my temperature rise as his name tripped over my tongue. “And Xan is not a pervert.”
“How does Boss Man feel about you?” Gabi asked.
I shrugged. My friends exchanged a long look, then both broke out in smiles.
“Stop,” I said, holding up a hand as they both started speaking at once. “This is all too good to be true.” Beckett was too good. Too tall. Too handsome. Too everything. “You should have seen the date he took me on. It was something straight out of a Miranda Lockhart novel.” I wiped my eyes, thinking back to the most perfect date I’d ever been on. “There was a sleigh ride—” I took a breath in and out, pushing back the emotion. “And snow, and—” Another long inhale and exhale. “Magic cider, for crying out loud.”
I knew how to breathe mindfully from taking Kennedy’s yoga classes. I tried to count to five on my inhales and let my breath out to the same count. Deep, ujjayi breaths. Deep inhales. Deep exhales. Long inhales that didn’t do anything to calm my racing heart. Long exhales that didn’t make me want to stop throwing up one bit less.
“He shouldn’t exist.” Thoughts of Beckett Vinroot shot my breathing to hell. “He’s Heathcliff. He’s William Darcy,” I said, leaning my forehead on my fist. “He’s Almanzo Wilder.”
Beckett was mysterious, engaging, and romantic. He was all of my favorite romance heroes rolled into one—and he scared the hell out of me.
Gabi nudged my elbow, and I raised my head to look at her. “But is he Christian Grey?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I sighed.
“Ah!” Gabi wiggled her eyebrows. “That’s the problem.” She had a knowing gleam in her eye. “You’re not in love. You just need to get laid.”
“One-track mind.” Thatcher gestured at Gabi, rolling his eyes.
“It’s true,” Gabi insisted. “Go to bed with him, and you’ll find out pretty quickly he’s not as perfect as he seems.” Gabi bit into another piece of chocolate. “He probably has a Tic Tac penis, or he refuses to go down on you, or he finishes before you’ve even gotten started…” Gabi trailed off shaking her head. “Or all of the above.”
“He doesn’t have a Tic Tac penis,” I said. I’d been in his lap in the back of the limo long enough to know that.
“Please don’t ever say that phrase again in my presence,” Thatcher begged. “It’s offensive to every man alive.”
“Relax,” Gabi said. “Everyone knows we aren’t talking about you.”
Thatcher had been featured in a Mossy Oak calendar of eligible bachelors for a charity. In his underwear. There wasn’t much hiding anything in the boxer briefs he’d worn.
“Get your head out of the gutter, Mrs. Salinger,” Thatcher said. “Sex isn’t the answer to everything.”
Gabi’s mouth dropped open. “Get out your wallet.”
“Why?”
