“You okay?” Beckett shifted closer.
Presley turned, but he was so close, she nearly plastered herself against him.
“I will be. Thank you for being so incredibly sweet.”
The softness of his smile, the understanding in his gaze, untied the knots around her heart.
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a sexy mountain man persona to maintain.”
Maybe asking for a fling was too far outside her comfort zone, but in that moment, Presley wanted something far smaller that would mean even more.
She stepped into Beckett, put her hand on his chest, let it slide down to his waist as she moved closer. As if they’d practiced, they swayed into each other, her arms going around his waist, his coming around her back.
As the embrace soothed her in ways no first aid kit ever could, she smiled against his chest. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Eleven
Presley’s phone continued to ping with endless notifications, so she put it back on silent and decided to go up to the main house a bit early, see if she could chat with Jilly. Beckett had given in to the hug for a few blissful seconds before stepping back, looking at her like he wasn’t sure where she had come from, and stammering out an excuse to leave. He’d pointed at the snacks and told her to eat and that he’d see her later.
So, clearly her seduction skills were lacking.You weren’t trying to seduce him.She’d honestly just wanted a hug. And she was right; that sweater with Beckettinit? Perfect for snuggling.
A full sit-down meal was served in the dining room each night at seven. Breakfast and lunch could be there as well, or on the go, if preferred. Beckett mentioned that two evenings a week they took the boat to Smile, where guests could try the local fare.
Outside, the air had cooled, and even though she couldn’t see them, she knew there were bugs just flitting around waiting to land on her. She swiped her hand through the empty space. Nothing. She started to do it again but caught herself, realizing she looked ridiculous waving her arms as she walked. She tugged the zipper on her sweater up as far as it could go, resisting the urge to tuck her head into the hood. A sweet, pleasant smell emanated from the flowers, the water, and the breeze.
A couple of guests fished off the dock and Presley wondered if they’d stayed there all day. The sound of their laughter seemed to echo off the still water. The scent of freshly mowed grass danced on the breeze. Ollie sure was cute, riding along with her uncle like a miniature caretaker.
Careful on the path, Presley wondered if they’d thought of putting in more flowers, walkways, and perhaps even some rock gardens. Ollie’s idea for growing some of their own food was a great one. Herbs, at the very least, would be a nice touch. More than once, Presley had suggested to Ms. Twain that they offer personal touches like flowers in the rooms or even specialty chocolates, sort of like DoubleTree offered cookies. Her ideas were “taken under consideration.”
Hammering caught her attention, pulling her away from the stairs leading to the lodge. Wandering down the side of the house with a different view of the water, she saw the door to cabin four was open. Not wanting things to be awkward between them, Presley figured she’d pop in, say a breezy hello, and then go see Jill. This Presley would pretend to be chill. City Presley laughed in her head at the very notion. Moving slowly because her feet were killing her—after Beck had left, she’d added about ten Band-Aids to her feet—she eased up the steps. Inside, she found him on his hands and knees with his head up the chimney.
“Little early to be watching for Santa,” she said.
He jumped back in his crouch, losing his balance and landing on his butt. Presley bit her lip to keep from giggling.
“You scared the hell out of me.” His smile let her know he wasn’t mad.
“I’m probably not your favorite guest today, huh?”
Beckett stood up, brushed off his shorts. He had some soot on his cheek. His hair was a mess. He still wore his hiking clothes. No wonder he slept so hard; the man never stopped.
“Depends. You Instagram a shot of me looking up that chimney?” His lips quivered.
He was playing, but guilt still made another notch in her heart. “Of course not. I mean, your butt is Instagram-worthy, but I told you, I wouldn’t do it on purpose.”
Heat rose from the base of her neck when his brows arched. She should steal some more Band-Aids and tape her mouth shut.
“I’m not sure if having an Instagram-worthy butt is a compliment.”
Going with it, because what choice did she have at this point, she nodded. “Definitely. But regardless, I hope I’m not causing you to hide out.”
He pursed his lips, pretending to think about it. “You ask less questions than Ollie.”
She tapped her fingers against her legs. “Is that a compliment?”
He shifted his hand side to side like he was somewhere in the middle on the whole thing, but the amusement in his gaze settled her nerves.
They both started to speak at the same time. He gestured to Presley, for her to go first.
