She laughed, more charmed by him than his place, which felt welcoming and homey. “What guy are you?”
Beckett’s expression turned serious. “The one who wants to see everything work out for everyone. Please, stay here.”
She nodded, beyond touched by his words. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’m not sure what’s going on in your life, Presley, but I promise you, we’re going to make sure you have a fantastic vacation.” He turned and grabbed his bags, hefting one on each shoulder.
When he started for the door, fear seized her. The lodge was one thing. There were other people somewhere in the place, maybe even room service of some sort. There was activity, noises to remind her she wasn’t alone. In the city, she often opened her window at night so the sound of traffic could lull her to sleep. Here, something might crawl through that window. Were there bears out here? Other creatures? More rodent-related ones? She was way down at the far end of the property by the water. Away from everything else. Everyone else. If she screamed would anyone even hear her?Cabin in the woods? Hell, no.That was a freaking horror movie for a reason. “Beckett!” She didn’t mean it to come out quite so shrill.
He started, turned to face her. “What is it?”
Let the humiliation just keep coming. As much as it pained her, it was better than the alternative, and she’d never see these people again. Who needed pride?“I’m scared” sounds so childish.Swallowing the lump in her throat, she did her best to push down the fear, which was probably irrational. “Do you think you could stay? For a while?” There. That wasn’t so hard. He’d probably think she was hitting on him again, but she’d take that over watching him walk out the door. Lesser evils. This trip might be full of choosing between them.
Six
Beckett stood in his own doorway looking at a woman who belonged on the cover of one of those fancy fashion magazines. Even with the day she’d clearly had—maybe she lost her job, split up with someone, lost a bet, who knew—she was beautiful. Her dark hair was coming loose in several areas, little wisps dancing across her pale skin. Her eyes were a soft, whimsical shade of blue, and a man could drown in them as easily as Lake Michigan.
He could feel the nerves and anxiety pumping off of her very being. She’d asked him to stay but he had a feeling that what she really meant was that she didn’t want him to go. There was a distinction between the two, and he was positive a woman like this would be careful to word the request properly.
Despite this hunch, he got the sense that she wasn’t the type to ask for help often. There was an inner steel that shone through in her resolve to say what she needed. That hint of vulnerability called to him nearly as much as her attempt at covering it up.
He dropped his bags, surprised by how much he wanted to comfort her; put her at ease. “I’ve got some time.” He stared at her, went with his gut. “It’s safe here, Presley. I promise you.” He didn’t know why he was so sure his word would mean something to this woman.
She nodded, her gaze darting around, not settling on him. “I know. I’m sure it is.” Her gaze came back to his, locking him in. “But.”
He didn’t pride himself on being able to read people. That was another one of Jilly’s things. With Presley, though, something spoke to him. Made him understand all the things she didn’t say with that final syllable.
Huffing out a sharp breath, he went into his standard mode of operation. He wasn’t the money guy or the people person. He was the problem solver. “I’m starving. It’s been a long day and I haven’t had a chance to eat. You like steak?”
Her expression softened, relaxed, and any fool—and he knew he was one for staying, getting sucked in—could see the gratitude shining there. She nodded.
Going to the fridge, he pulled out the steak he’d remembered to ask Jill to thaw out for him. He noticed the vegetables, fruit, condiments. His sister had stocked his fridge. If Beckett was the fixer in the family, Jilly was the caregiver. He grabbed a beer, held it up to Presley.
She nodded, walking closer. “Thank you.”
“You know how to make a salad?” Why did his words feel garbled in his mouth?
A small smile, a little hint of magic, graced her lips. “I didn’t go to school for it, but I’m familiar with the process.”
Damn. Gorgeous, alluring, and funny? He should head to Grayson’s or Jillian’s. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in a guest. Not only didn’t he have any time in his schedule, he wasn’t a big fan of goodbyes or watching people leave. His significant other was sleep, and they rarely saw each other lately.
“Good. Bowls are in there. Grab the lettuce and veggies you like. There’s a cutting board in the drawer.” He pointed to the various spots. If he was shaking off the kind of day that she seemed to be, he’d want to keep busy.
Without a word, Presley set her beer down, grabbed what she needed, and got to work.
He dug into a drawer for the lighter. “If not salad making, did you go to school for something else?”
She turned her head, smiled at him. It almost hit her eyes, and he figured when it got all the way there, it was going to stop him in his tracks.
“Business and hotel management.”
If Beckett were the kind of guy who believed the universe listened, he’d think she had landed in their laps for this very reason.
“Do you like it?”
His hand finally closed around the lighter as her gaze locked on his. She looked so thoughtful, it made him want to know more.
“Most of the time. How about you? Is the fishing lodge your dream job?”
