Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(53)

She was reading my favorite book.

And somehow, that string of emotions she was feeling while reading it was better than anything else she could have said in that moment.



Me: You’re reading.



Mallory: I’m reading.



Mallory: And can barely breathe let alone put this book down, all thanks to you. Asshole.



I smiled, chest tightening as my fingers hovered over the keyboard, wondering what to say next. I didn’t know if I should bring up last night, if I should take the opportunity to ask what she was thinking. But before I could decide, another text came through.



Mallory: And maybe it was ME looking for an excuse to text YOU this time…



My heart leapt like a fucking leprechaun, and I couldn’t bite back the smile that bloomed on my face if I tried.



Me: I’m glad you found one.



I waited for another text to come through, but when it didn’t, I slipped my phone into the cupholder in my console, deciding to save the words I really wanted to say for when I’d see her tomorrow. Then, I put my old truck in drive, and I drove home with a twist in my stomach — the same one that had been there all night, only now, it wasn’t from anxiety, but from an unbearable excitement.

I couldn’t wait to see her in the morning.





Mallory


I was way too giddy to be going into work.

After the conversation I’d had with my dad, I should have been dreading walking through those distillery doors. I should have had a stomach full of knots because I’d have to tell Logan Becker that what happened Saturday night could never, ever, happen again, that we had to draw a line between us and stay firmly on opposite sides, that I had a lot to lose and so did he, and we should just stay away from each other.

But I realized as I bounced down the hall to the tour guide lobby that should have didn’t matter much to me — and it’d been that way my whole life. I didn’t heed the warnings I was given, and I didn’t do what I was told.

I had two coffees in my hand when I slipped into Logan’s office, and just like I knew he would be, he was already there, highlighting something on his clipboard when I sat the coffee down in front of him.

“Happy Monday,” I said, plopping down in the seat across from him.

Logan kicked back in his chair, and for the first time since he was inside me on Saturday night, our eyes met. “Mornin’.”

I drank him in like he was the piping hot cup of coffee then, my neck heating as his eyes trailed slowly over me, too. My fingers ached to run through his hair, to pull on it until it was as disheveled as it had been that night in my bed. I let my eyes stop at every memorable spot as they grazed his body — that wide chest I’d laid my head on half the night, the abs I now knew he hid under that polo, those strong hands that had pinned me against my front door.

I squeezed my thighs together, meeting his eyes at the same time his snapped up from my lips.

“So… Saturday happened.”

He chuckled, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and folding his hands behind his head. “Indeed, it did.” He frowned then, and I watched the Adam’s apple in his throat bob. “I told my mom.”

My eyes shot open wide. “You told your mom that we fucked?”

“No, no, no,” he said, eyes doubling as he held his hands out toward me. “I would never… no. I just, she may have noticed that I was distracted at dinner last night, and I may have told her that… well, that you were the distraction.”

Even though I could tell by his features that the conversation with his mom hadn’t gone well, I couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that he’d told her about me, at all. It was a silly, foolish feeling, like the kind I’d had as a teenager when bad boy Ronny Carmichael passed me a note between classes.

I’d been on his mind.

And he’d told his mom about me.

Why did that make me want to swoon like a fucking Disney character?

“I’m guessing she wasn’t too thrilled that her son was being seduced by Mallory Scooter, huh?”

Logan cocked a brow. “I think we could argue who did the seducing that night.”

“We could, but I’d win.

He let out one bark of a laugh at that, shaking his head. But the smile slipped off his face like a mud slide on the side of the mountain, his mouth pulling to one side. “You could say she wasn’t exactly receptive…” He ran a hand back through his hair, and again, my fingers ached in jealousy. “Not that I should have been surprised, I guess.”

“My father was the same.”

It was his turn to blanch. “You told your dad?”

I laughed, folding my arms over my chest. “Relax. I didn’t tell him you had my wrists pinned above my head and your hands under my yoga pants.”

He smirked at that, the dimple flashing an appearance on his left cheek before it disappeared again.

“But,” I continued. “My loud mouth brother dropped the bomb that you’d been at the studio helping me, and my dad drew his own conclusions.” I lowered my voice and frowned, mimicking my father’s voice. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be hanging out with him outside of what’s necessary during your training at the distillery.”