In the Weeds (Lovelight #2)(41)

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” I keep my voice carefully neutral. I’m planning on going down to the bar and slamming Carter’s face into a basket of french fries fifteen times in a row. Then I’ll have a burger with a beer and come home. Maybe I’ll get one of those veggie sandwiches Evelyn seems to like so much.

“Okay,” she blows out a deep breath. “Okay, I don’t believe you. But okay.”

“Okay,” I parrot back, looking for my car keys. I could have sworn I left them on top of my dresser. I stomp out of the bedroom, almost mowing down Evelyn on my way into the kitchen. She grabs at my arms to keep herself upright, a startled sound spilling out of her.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says, her nose against my neck. I slip the hand not holding my phone from between her shoulder blades to the small of her back, palm dragging down her spine as I make sure she’s steady. I suck in a sharp breath when my fingers graze bare skin. Her shirt must have gotten caught between us.

She answers with a shaky sigh against me, fingertips digging just slightly into my skin. Her nose nudges up, the brush of her lips just below my ear. My entire body goes rigid.

“Beckett Porter, do you have a WOMAN OVER?” Vanessa’s voice shrieks through the phone directly into my ear.

“Gotta go, Ness.”

“Do not hang up, you—“

I hang up the phone and slip it into my back pocket, leaning back and looking down at Evelyn plastered against my front. She’s cleaned the dirt off of her face and all that’s left is a rosy glow from a day spent outside, her hair curling at the edges. I thumb a strand behind her ear.

That’s twice today I haven’t been able to keep my hands off of her. I feel trapped between holding her at a safe distance and tugging her closer. A pendulum swinging endlessly back and forth.

I step back and clear my throat. I scoop my keys off the kitchen counter and try to scoop some of the feelings playing Plinko inside of my chest back where they belong.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yep.” My lips pop the last letter of the word, irritation slithering through me when I think about Carter. That fucking idiot. I frown and glance at the two chairs on the back porch, our dinner plans never discussed but a new habit, all the same. “Want a veggie sandwich while I’m out?”

“You get mad about veggie sandwiches, huh?” She digs her finger into the line between my eyebrows and I cuff her wrist with my hand. She’s so small, my fingers easily overlap. “What’s got that look on your face?”

“Someone was a dick to my sister,” I explain. I let our hands drop between us, indulging and swinging our arms back and forth once. Her skin is so soft. “I’m going to go take care of it.”

Evelyn blinks at me. Without a second of hesitation, she reaches for the discarded sweatshirt slung over the back of one of the dining room chairs. She pulls it over her head, arms punching through the sleeves, her hands lifting her long ponytail to pull it from the collar.

“What are you doing?” I ask, a little mesmerized and a lot distracted by all that hair.

She slips her feet back into the shoes she kicked off right at the end of the hallway and gestures towards the door with a nod.

“You think I’m going to let you go alone?” She shakes her head decisively. “I want that veggie sandwich. I’m coming with you.”





CHAPTER TEN





EVELYN





Angry Beckett is … an experience.

Tense forearms, a deep groove in the center of his forehead. Hard eyes and his mouth in a flat, severe line. He keeps taking deep breaths during the drive into town, letting them out slow. His hands flex on the steering wheel and he mutters something about beach blonde sonofabitch under his breath.

Frankly, it’s working for me.

Not that there’s much Beckett does that doesn’t work for me.

Watching him in the fields this morning was like a glass of water set just out of reach. The flex and release of his arms as he thrust his shovel down. The spread of his shoulders and the strong line of his jaw. It didn’t help that I know what his body looks like under all of those clothes. The way his hard chest tapers down into narrow hips, the stacked muscle across his abdomen that I definitely sunk my teeth into during our time together.

“Where are we going?”

His truck slows as we hit the edge of town, a painted wooden sign welcoming us to downtown Inglewild. It makes me smile every time I see it. The difference between downtown and the rest of it must be two square blocks. Beckett turns left at the firehouse and rumbles down the street, his gaze focused out the front windshield. I feel like maybe I should turn on some guided meditation, calm him down before he finds whoever it is he’s looking for.

“Beckett,” I try again. “Where are we going?”

I’m starting to think his plan is to drive his truck right through someone’s living room.

“The bar,” he answers. Two words. Nothing more. I watch his jaw flex and pop.

“Who is at the bar?”

“Carter Dempsey.”

I nod like that name means anything to me. “And what are you going to do to Carter Dempsey?”

Beckett smoothes his hand over the gear stick and slows us to a stop. In a series of practiced movements, he maneuvers his behemoth of a truck into one of the parking spots that borders the main road. Never in my life have I been so turned on by parallel parking. Beckett shifts into park and levels a look right at me.