His gaze heated and she realized the double entendre of her words, felt her cheeks flush.
Jill shot her brother a sly grin that had Presley looking down at her hands to avoid both of their gazes. Setting the table went quick with everyone helping. Mel went to check on Richard. Mr. Dayton followed, likely heading to his own room.
Voices and commotion came from the front of the lodge.
Jill hurried around the table, still grinning as she snagged Ollie’s hand. “That’ll be Gray with our check-ins.”
In the silence, Presley second-guessed the decision she’d come to alone in the shower. Nerves tumbled inside of her. So, they’d kissed. Twice. She wasn’t twelve, so that didn’t make him her steady boyfriend. She was only here less than a week.
He stepped closer, his hair disheveled in a sexy, careless way. “How’d you sleep last night?”
Had he thought of her like she had him? “Good,” she said, nodding, lacing her fingers together. “Really great. Not too hot, not too cold.”
Beckett smirked. “Glad to hear it, Goldilocks.” He picked up a lock of her dark hair, let it drift through his fingers.
The sound of laughter, loud and voracious to the point of exaggeration, came from the lobby.
Beckett frowned. “I should go help with guests. See you at dinner?”
She nodded. When he left, she stayed in the dining room, willing her heart rate to settle. She had no idea how to account for the barrage of feelings he inspired in her. She’d been with Emmett for almost eight months, been working toward moving their relationship forward, and not once had a subtle touch, a look, or a smile from him lit her up like a bonfire inside.
More laughter and some interesting sounds came from the lobby. Hanging out in her room until dinner, alone, seemed like the most sensible idea. At least then she wouldn’t make a fool of herself staring at Beckett while his siblings looked on. Doing her best to move through the lobby like a ghost, she kept her head down as the laughter and loud voices continued.
“Presley!” Beckett’s voice was nearly frantic.
Her head snapped up, and she saw him surrounded by three women. Two were around her age, one was older, and they all looked similar enough that she’d guess they were family. Mother and daughters. The mom, a tall, willowy Goldie Hawn look-alike, was running her hand down Beckett’s chest. He couldn’t stop her with the number of bags in his hands.
Jill looked like it was taking serious concentration for her not to laugh.
Grayson was leading two guys up the stairs with their bags.
“You are every bit the mountain man your social media advertised,” the older woman said.
Presley stood still, biting her bottom lip as Beckett’s cheeks brightened.
“I don’t have social media, ma’am.”
“We saw you on Instagram. Who was the genius that decided to use you for marketing?” one of the younger women, whose hair fell lushly over her shoulders, asked.
His lips thinned, and he took a step back and met Presley’s gaze with an imploring one of his own. Her eyes widened. She gave him a shrug. What was she supposed to do? Sure, she’d gotten him into this, but he was the one with the six-pack!
Jill stepped around Beckett and gestured to Presley with an interesting grin. “His girlfriend. Presley.”
Hiswhat?Her eyes couldn’t open wider.
He smirked at Presley, wasting no time in confirming his sister’s fib. “That’s right. My Presley. I mean, mygirlfriend.My Presley.” His eyes pleaded. There was a hint of desperation in his tone.
Presley shuffled forward, unsure what she was supposed to add to this moment. “It was an accident, really.”
The women turned her way, giving her a once-over. One of them reminded Presley of a wicked stepsister with a more pleasant smile. “Girlfriend? The hashtag was #HotMountainMan. Not #CoupleGoals.”
“Gabriella,” the had-to-be-mom said, her tone sharp like she was dealing with a petulant child.
Jill grinned, looking suspiciously like she was trying not to laugh as she moved behind the counter.
“Come here,” Beckett said, his gaze set on her. When she hesitated, he lifted his brows—which seemed to be a family parlor trick—and added, “Sweetheart.”
Presley bit her lip, while Jill had the good grace to cover her laugh with a cough. Presley moved to Beckett’s side with more than a little apprehension. Catfights weren’t her thing.
