Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(71)
“Dammit,” I groaned, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “I need to stop doing this.”
Stifling a yawn with the back of my hand, I peeled myself off the chair and stretched the kinks out of my back. Part of me wondered why he hadn’t woken me up to send me home, but a bigger part suspected he knew I couldn’t sleep alone right now.
Pressing a button on the remote, I checked the time and gasped.
“Fuck!” I exclaimed. School started in less than thirty minutes, and I was still at Beck’s ... in my jammies. Tossing the soft blue blanket onto the chair, I rushed out of the cinema in search of the way out. Why was Beck’s house so fucking huge? Last time it had been a clear shot down the stairs and out the door, but I hadn’t paid any attention to how we’d gotten to the cinema last night.
Frantic, I rushed through the marble tiled halls and rooms, then came to a skidding halt in the enormous kitchen.
“Oh,” I blurted, finding Beck sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. He was dressed in fitted workout clothes—I tried really hard not to drool over all the muscles on display—while casually sipping a cup of coffee and reading something on a tablet. Beside him, another place had been set with fresh, steaming coffee and a plate of waffles. “I didn’t ... uh...” I awkwardly shifted from foot to foot as he watched me like a predator. “I need to get home, did you see the time?”
A smile teased at the corners of his mouth, but he shook his head and indicated to the seat beside him. “Sit down and eat something. Your clothes are in the guest bathroom.”
There was no room for negotiation in that statement, and I was still too sleepy to even try and argue—despite the fact that my clothes had no reason to be in Beck’s guest bathroom. Mute, I slid onto the stool beside him and took a long gulp of my coffee. It was exactly how I liked it—pitch black.
I was starving, so I didn’t put up a fuss about eating the waffles in front of him. They looked like they’d been prepared by a chef, topped with sliced bananas, fluffy mascarpone, and drizzled with maple syrup. Mouth-watering heaven.
“Jesus Christ,” Beck muttered on a laugh, looking at me from the side of his eye. “If I’d known, I would have fed you waffles sooner.”
“Hmm?” I frowned at him, my mouth full, then blushed hot when I realized I’d been moaning my appreciation of the food. How. Embarrassing. I swallowed, then cleared my throat and took another sip of coffee to cover the awkwardness. The bitterness of my black coffee contrasted perfectly with the sticky sweetness of the waffles, and I needed to bite my lip to keep from making anymore borderline sexual noises over my breakfast.
Beck just snorted a laugh and powered off his tablet. “I’m going to take a shower,” he declared, then eyed me meaningfully. “A cold one. Take your time with that, we’re not expecting Dylan until later but I think I’ll get you started on basics before he gets here.”
“Huh?” I squinted at him in confusion. Maybe I needed more coffee.
Beck shook his head at me. “You forgot? We’re teaching you how to shoot today, Butterfly. It’s time you became a bigger badass than you already are.” With a flirtatious wink that was so not Beck, he departed the kitchen in search of that cold shower he mentioned.
I had totally forgotten Dylan was going to teach me defense and shooting today, and now that Beck had reminded me I was strangely giddy with excitement. Just more evidence that I was a bit fucked in the head, I guessed.
Quick as I could—without wasting it—I finished off my breakfast and stacked the dishes in the sink. I couldn’t see a dishwasher anywhere and wasn’t comfortable enough to go poking around in cupboards looking for one. Besides, I had no doubt the Becketts had staff lurking around waiting for me to leave so they could clean up.
Thankfully, the guest bathroom wasn’t too hard to find. It was back in the direction of the cinema where we’d spent the night.
There was a neat, folded pile of clothes on the vanity and I didn’t pause to look at them until after I’d showered and dried off.
“Huh,” I muttered, picking up the spandex items and inspecting them. At first, my reaction was along the lines of, “where is the rest of it?” and then quickly my mood shifted to more of an evil chuckle. Silly Beck. He’d clearly picked out my outfit—high waisted leggings and a black strappy crop top—thinking he was pissing me off. Instead, I was just going to make his day long and hard. All puns intended.
Once I’d dressed, I tied on the black sneakers that were parked in front of the vanity then admired my reflection. He’d gotten my sizes spot on, but that didn’t even surprise me. Beck had that next level possessive thing going on, and despite the fact that I still had no idea where we stood with each other, his knowledge of my sizes was no shock.
My favourite toothpaste and brush brand also sitting there was a little more disconcerting, but … it was Beck. He noticed everything. Weirdness aside, I was mostly just grateful for clean teeth.
When I was done, for lack of an idea where else to go, I headed back through to the kitchen while weaving my long, unruly hair into two French braids. Thankfully, I had some spare hair ties around my wrist, so I could secure the ends.
“Hey,” I said, coming up behind Beck who was pouring another mug of coffee.
He turned, and his gaze darkened, dragging over me from head to toe before he handed me the beverage. “Come on, trouble,” he growled. “We’re heading to the range.”