Chapter Thirty-One
After Beck left, I spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out a way I could find enough money to take up Laney on her offer. Emailed her to let her know I loved the idea but would need to come up with a plan for the money issue.
And I had about a million texts from Jaz wanting to know where the hell I'd disappeared to. My cover story was supposed to be that I was ill, but I didn't want to lie to him. Instead, I arranged to meet him to fill him in on all the details. After I'd seen Beck again and found out how much I could tell him. Apparently, Jaz had a shit-ton of gossip to fill me in on too. I smiled at that, wondering if he would be able to top mine.
The rest of the day dragged by as I waited for seven o'clock to roll around. Shopping all done, I already had steaks marinating in the fridge and a bottle of red open. Primped to within an inch of my life, I left my hair down. Pulled on a soft blue cashmere jumper that clung to my breasts and hips. Paired it with a pair of faded jeans. I didn't want to get too dressed up, but I wanted to look good.
Seven o'clock on the dot, there was a knock on the front door. Purposefully slowing my strides, I went to answer it. Standing on the doorstep was the Beck I thought of as the real Beck. The one that reminded me of the guy I met on the plane. Blue jeans and a grey T-shirt stretched across his chest. In his hands, a cake box and a bottle of wine.
“Hey. Come in.”
“Hi.”
Stepping through the doorway, he paused to kiss my cheek before heading for the kitchen.
“Seeing as you're cooking, I thought the least I could do was bring dessert.”
Lifting the lid of the box he revealed a huge chocolate cake. My favourite. “Maybe we should skip dinner and start with dessert.” Beck laughed and lowered the lid.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
I had the feeling he wasn't just talking about dessert. “Have a seat. Dinner's almost ready; I just need to grill the steaks.”
I left him with the wine and glasses and grabbed the steaks from the fridge. Got the griddle pan hot and laid the steaks out on it. The kitchen was quiet, the sizzle of the meat hitting the pan loud and filling the air with the smell of charring meat. Collecting plates and cutlery, I set them on the breakfast bar where Beck sat quietly. Flipped the steaks over then prodded at them with the tongs. As I wondered what Beck was going to tell me over dinner, I thought about what I needed to say to him. Suddenly, the smell of the steaks had my stomach churning. Maybe we should have talked before eating.
Testing the steaks, I served them up and slid into the seat next to Beck. Took a large sip of the wine he'd poured for me.
Neither of us made an attempt to eat. Instead, I lined my cutlery up against the edge of the table mat. Took a deep breath and thought, sod it. “You said there were some things you needed to explain to me?” Might as well get it over with.
Beck ran his thumb across the scar on his wrist. I'd seen him do it a few times. Usually when he was nervous.
“Where to start?”
Placing my hand over his, the motion of his thumb stopped. “Start wherever you want. Whatever you want to share with me. But you don't have to tell me anything. I understand why you did what you did. How you behaved.” He wrapped his fingers around my hand.
“I used to work for the GMP. The Manchester police force. I was an officer before I joined the team I'm with now. Seven years ago, I arrested a guy for armed robbery. He served some time but then was released.”
Work wasn't what I had expected him to talk about, but I relaxed enough to take a bite of the steak.
“I guess he wasn't mentally stable and he held a grudge against me. In those days, I worked shifts. One night, I finished late and got home to find the glass panel in the front door broken. Shards of glass littered the floor.”
His thumb rested over the scar again and I think I could guess why.
“I should have called it in. Called for backup. But I didn't. The lights were off as I entered the house and made my way to the living room. A single lamp illuminated him and my wife. All that training and I froze. He had her tied up to a chair. Gun aimed at her temple.”
His head dropped, and I wanted to reach out to him. Comfort him somehow. Not that anything could bring comfort to those memories.
“There was nothing I could do. I know that now but at the time…he was waiting for me to get home to pull the trigger. To make sure I witnessed it. And when I did…when he…I lost it. We fought. I tried to get the gun from him. He tried to get away from me. I guess he thought I'd suffer more if I lived.
“We ended up in the hallway as he tried to escape out of the front door. I don't remember much after that. Except I shot him. Three times. When backup showed up I was still on the hallway floor.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but then closed it. There were no words for me to say. I couldn't make that better. Or even understand what would drive someone to kill another man's wife in cold blood. I laid my hand on his back. He lifted his head at my touch.
“When you turned up at the office that first day…that feeling of not being in control came back. I couldn't tell you not to work there without good reason. And I couldn't give you a good reason. I didn't want you anywhere near the operation. But I had no way to explain it. Then when you started working with Tony…we'll track him down, though.”
I stared at him for a moment. “Does that…did you try and track me down after our night together?” Beck pursed his lips and shook his head.
“I was tempted to. But that would be unethical. And a little stalkerish. I left you my number assuming if you were interested in seeing me again you would call…But then I kind of lost it when you contacted Period Pieces…”
“Kath told me you were trying to protect me. I get it.” He swivelled on his stool to face me, knees bumping my thighs. Lifted his hands to cradle my jaw.
“Do you?” he asked. “Because I didn't. All I could think about was what if they came after you? That I wouldn't be able to protect you.” He let out a harsh chuckle as his thumb traced along my jaw. “Kath told me I was overreacting. I didn't care. The thought of losing you…”
I leaned into his touch. Wrapped my hands around his wrists to hold him there. “But you didn't. You haven't. You won't.” Leaned forward so I could brush my lips over his. A gentle reminder that I was still there. That we were together. Safe. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me close. My head resting in the crook of his shoulder as we held onto each other.
We toyed with our food in silence for a while until—half eaten—I pushed my plate away, giving up with the pretence of finishing it. Taking Beck's hand in mine, I headed for the sofa. Dragged him down onto the cushion next to me and leant against his chest as his arm curled around my shoulders. We remained like that for a long time—not talking, just taking comfort in being close to each other.
Until curiosity got the better of me. “So, what happens now?” Beck scooched back on the sofa until he was almost lying down and took me with him.
“What do you mean?”
My fingers found the hem of his T-shirt and plucked at the stitching. “Between us. I mean, I don't even know if you live around here.”
“I have a crappy apartment in Manchester that I spend as little time at as I can.”
I laughed at that. The image far from the penthouse I had imagined him in. “Wait. If you live in Manchester, why did you fly from Leeds Bradford?”
“When I booked the flight, I already had a dinner meeting near Leeds the same day. It just seemed easier.”
He shrugged, then his arm tightened across my back and my shoulders tensed in response.
“I spoke to my commander today. Told him I couldn't do this job any longer.”
Pushing myself upright so I could look at him I said, “You quit?” His lips lifted on one side into an almost smile.
“I tried. He doesn't want me to leave the team. But I told him I can't do this job and be with you.”
“You can't quit because of me. I'm not asking you to choose.”
“I know you're not. I know you wouldn't ask that of me. But my career has already cost me…too much. It's time for a change because I won't lose you. He asked me to think it over. There's a training position available that he wants me to take. So he wouldn't lose me completely. I'm not sure. I think maybe a clean break from it all would be better.”
I lay my head back on his shoulder. The idea of Beck not having to go undercover again was appealing. If not selfish. Not gonna lie though, I'd rather he didn't have to do that. But it had to be his choice. And for the right reasons.
“You don't have to make a decision yet. Give it some time to think it over. And please don't quit for me.” His hand stroked across my back.
“I'll think about it. I like you Kimberly—a lot. And I don't want to be away with work all the time. I want to be here, with you.”
A smile crept across my face. Pushing myself up so I could reach his lips I kissed him. “I want that too.”
He looked far too serious still, and I wondered if there was more he had to say. Settling back against his chest I listened to the steady beat of his heart and waited.
“That night we met—at the hotel…I wasn't expecting to meet someone. To meet you. The last thing I wanted to do was rush off the next morning. But work called and I had to. That's why I left my number. Hoped…waited every day for a call or a text. But when you never did…”
My head lifted on his chest as he shrugged, and I stroked my fingers through the smattering of hairs across his abs. “I lost your business card. Well, a friend put it through the washing machine.” He shook his head and laughed.
“Then you showed up at the office. It was like a second chance. But then Jaz…”
Fingertips digging into the firm muscles of his stomach I said, “Is just a friend.”
“I know that now. But at the time I wasn't sure you were interested in me. And then the complication of working together. I guess what I'm trying to say is that however complicated our situation may be, I want to try and make this work. To be together. I don't want you to walk out of my life again. That I…I'm falling in love with you.”
When I pulled back to look into his eyes I paused to make sure he was really listening. “I know I've fallen in love with you, Beck. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I lay there quietly letting those four words sink in with a huge grin on my face.
“What about you?”
I slipped my fingers further up his T-shirt. “What about me?”
“What are you going to do now that you're no longer working at Cooper Garson?”
“It's funny you should mention that.” I explained the offer I had received as Beck continued to stroke my back, making me sleepy.
“Are you going to take her up on the offer?”
“If I can find the money for the first few months' rent then yes.” His hand stopped and rested against the small of my back.
“Any ideas on how to get it?”
“Not yet. But I'm going to try.”
Lying together on the sofa in an easy silence, I felt more settled than I had in a long time. Beck and I were going to give this another go. And hopefully, I'd find a way to get the money together to turn my passion for baking into a real business.
When my eyes refused to stay open any longer I asked Beck, “Do you want to stay the night?”
“I'd love to.”
***
In the morning, I woke to Beck's lips on my neck. His chest plastered to my back and an arm slung across my hips. “Mmm. Morning.” His lips trailed kisses down to my shoulder.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
Moving so he could roll me onto my back, he stared down at me for a moment before pressing his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back. Propped himself up on an elbow and gazed down at me. He looked far too serious for this time of the morning.
“I've been awake for a while. Thinking.”
Well, that didn't sound good, so I waited for him to carry on.
“How would you feel if I gave you the money to start up in business with the owner of the coffee shop?”
Okay, not the direction I had been expecting him to take. How would I feel? Like a charity case. I shook my head. “I'm not taking your money, Beck.” When he smiled, showing me those dimples, I frowned at him.
“I wouldn't be giving it to you. It would be an investment. A partnership.” Gazing into my eyes he shrugged. “I want us to be a partnership.”
My first instinct was to refuse. But him wanting us to be a partnership made my heart melt. I wanted that too. Did I trust enough in myself, my ability—in us—to accept that? To try?
It seemed to be the least I could do. Beck was willing to give up his cash, his job even, to make this work between us. Would it hurt to accept his money—to accept that sometimes you couldn't always achieve your dreams, your goals alone? That sometimes you had to accept help from others?
And if our roles were reversed? I'd want to help Beck out in a heartbeat. “An investment how? How would it work?”
“The way I see it, you'd be the one putting in the work, the hours to create the cakes. You're the one with the ideas. I'd just be providing the capital. Then—eventually—when you start making a profit we'd share those profits. The money I put in to start it would eventually be paid back.”
Trust. That's what I wanted back. Trust in myself. In Beck.
I nodded. “Okay.”
And honestly, the smile alone that word got me was worth agreeing to his partnership.