Fall Into Temptation (Blue Moon Book #2)(24)

“I’m in time out,” Aurora piped up.

“And Gia’s making me write a 100-word essay on the poetry of some guy named Rumi.”

“Where’s your … Gianna?” Beckett asked.

“In da shed,” Aurora answered. “Can you ask her if I can be done in time out, Bucket? Please?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “Evan, if your essay goes by word count, make sure you copy and paste some of the poems. That’ll make it longer.”

Evan perked up. “Nice! Thanks!”

Beckett headed back outside to the shed in the corner of his fenced in lot. He’d never used it and had thrown it in with the rental of the guesthouse for additional storage. He was a little curious to see what Gia was storing in the shed. She didn’t seem like the years of paperwork kind of woman. Maybe she had a secret crafting hobby. Scrapbooking, perhaps?

Nope.

A wooden tug on the door revealed his little redheaded fairy whaling on a heavy bag.

She was still dressed for class in a tank top and tights, he watched the muscles in her shoulders and arms ripple with each punch.

Gianna was in the beat down zone. Her hands were wrapped, her feet were bare, and earbuds prevented her from hearing him open the door.

The bag, suspended from one of the shed’s rafters, was the only item inside the shed.

Beckett crossed his arms and watched. The longer she beat on the bag, the madder she looked.

She spotted him as she swung around for a spin kick and bared her teeth.

Spoiling for a fight, he thought. Gianna yanked the buds out of her ears and rounded on Beckett. “I suppose you’re here to pile on, too? Maybe tell me what a horrible man my father is again? Or accuse me of stalking you? Or how about you just jump on the bandwagon and try to drive me insane, too?”

He instinctively put his hands up. “Whoa.”

“I am not a horse!” She drilled a slim finger into his chest and glared up at him. She let out a hiss of exasperation and turned back toward the bag. “Get out!” Her small fist plowed into vinyl, making the chains above jingle.

Beckett decided to take his life in his own hands. He stepped further into the shed and nipped her around the waist.

Swinging her around, he pushed her back against the plywood wall and held her in place by the shoulders. “Take a breath,” he ordered.

“I’m a yoga instructor. I know how to breathe,” she hissed.

She was spectacular. Her flaming curls escaping their confines to frame her face. Those green eyes crackled with energy and anger. A flush tinged her ivory skin. Her chest heaved with every breath.

“Now I know what ‘she’s beautiful when she’s angry’ means.”

She growled at him.

Beckett had meant to keep those words to himself. But having the spitfire in his arms was making him careless.

Gianna tried to shrug out of his grasp, but he merely tightened his hold. When he saw the glint in her eyes, he stepped in closer so she couldn’t kick him.

“Talk,” he said.

“Why should I talk to you? Dr. Jekyll Mr. Pierce.” She struggled against him and then stomped her foot. Gianna closed her eyes and took a deep breath and then another one. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I shouldn’t be taking my mood out on you.”

“I came here to apologize to you. Not the other way around.”

“Still, I shouldn’t be venting negativity on anyone.” She paused and frowned up at him. “Even you.”

He thought it wise to contain his laughter. “That’s very kind and mature of you. Now, I’d like to apologize for being a horrible ass the other day at the gym. I was upset and I targeted you unfairly. I’m very sorry for what I said and the way I treated you.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Just like that?” Most of the fight seemed to have left her. But it had been replaced with resignation.

Gianna tried to shrug her shoulders under his hands. “It’s fine. It happens.”

“It’s not fine and it shouldn’t happen. And I want you to know that I’ve felt like crap about it since Monday morning.”

Her lips quirked. “That does make me feel slightly better.”

“I also want you to know,” Beckett said, leaning in slightly to look into her eyes, “that it was completely out of character for me.”

“I know,” she sighed.

“How?” he asked, brushing a curl back from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“I know you.”

“We just met,” Beckett argued.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Are you trying to convince me that you’re not the good, solid, thoughtful man I thought you were?”

Beckett frowned. “No. I just expected that I’d have some proving to do to make you believe me.”

“What does it matter what I think of you?” Gianna asked, tilting her head to the side. The skin of her neck was dotted with tiny beads of sweat. Some joined together to trickle lower, winding their way down her chest to the valley between her breasts.

“I don’t know, but it does,” Beckett told her. He gave in and traced that delicate line from her neck to her shoulder before brushing a finger over her collarbone.