Chapter Eleven
Beckett rubbed his palms up and down his face, hoping that maybe if he did it enough times he might find the energy to tackle his problems. He wasn’t the kind of guy to dwell on the negative—no matter what his sister claimed. He was a realist. A fact guy. A logical thinker with a problem-solving attitude.
But today he couldn’t seem to get his head in the game. After staring blankly at the code he’d written first thing that morning and wondering why the hell his application had stalled, he finally saw the error. He’d forgotten to close a loop. Rookie mistake. It was coding 101, and something he would usually have caught with ease.
But not today. It felt as though his brain had taken a leave of absence.
At least he knew why…not that it made him feel any better. But the second McKenna had sent over an email with the subject line Operation Get Beckett Engaged Again, his brain had turned to mush.
He swiped his hand across his desk, disturbing a bunch of papers with his handwritten notes and sending a pen flying across the room. Bloody hell. Why was he feeling like he wanted to put a fist through a wall? That wasn’t like him, at all.
“Kissing the girl next door isn’t like you, either,” he muttered.
But he had. He’d kissed McKenna like he’d been doing it his whole life, and been quite sure he’d died and gone to heaven. She’d tasted like vanilla and sugar, and smelled even sweeter. And her body…. Every curve and dip had been like silk under his palms.
Which was not how he was supposed to feel.
But that story about her family had gotten to him. He could practically feel their judgment, and seeing the tears shimmer in her eyes…fuck. Not cool. Something primal had roared up within him, a desire to protect. To defend. It was nothing like he’d ever experienced before.
But that wasn’t supposed to happen. He wanted Sherri, not McKenna.
So why, then, did it feel like he’d been crushed by an avalanche when her email came through? There was no denying the bitter taste in the back of his throat. Nor the instinctive curl in his fists.
<From: [email protected]>
<To: [email protected] M.K-Technologies.com>
Hi Beckett,
I was thinking about how to help you reconnect with your ex. I don’t want to slack on my end of our bargain, so I’ve put together a four-point plan.
Make contact – This is a text or email to begin with, to test the waters. I can help you write this.
Face-to-face meeting – plan a meeting that shows how well you know her (I’m thinking a restaurant that she loves or some other special spot.)
Give her a chance to have her say – it’s natural to want to defend yourself, but this is her time to air her concerns.
Make a commitment – this needs to be concrete. Maybe it means ensuring you make time to have dinner with her on a certain night every week and you don’t break that for anything. Give her the same thing you give your family.
Let’s catch up and I can help you with step one.
McKenna.
A four-point plan on how to make contact like a normal human being? He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or yell. Sure, he’d asked her for help. But telling him to email and give Sherri space to talk…did McKenna think he was a fucking Neanderthal?
Add that to the pile of bullshit he was already dealing with—complete radio silence from Sherri’s father, the fact that Greg was back on the scene, and Kayla’s tearful phone call earlier that morning, which proved he was right about her feeling unloved by her father—and he wanted nothing more than to bar his front door and commit to a life of solitude. The buzzing in his head was an incessant drone, preventing him from being able to think about anything for more than a minute before his brain bounced back to that kiss.
That all-consuming, so-bloody-wrong-it-was-right kiss.
Shaking his head to dislodge the vision of McKenna straddling him, her bright blue eyes sucking him in, he reached for his phone. The text area under Sherri’s name was a single unanswered blue bubble from over a week ago.
Beckett: I know you’re pissed, but we can work this out.
He needed to get his head back in the game. A detour with McKenna wasn’t part of his plan and the kiss could be explained away. McKenna had been hurting and he’d wanted to comfort her. Sure, he should have stuck to ice cream and consoling words. It had gotten a bit out of control. But it didn’t mean anything.
He wanted Sherri back in his life. He wanted everything to go back to how it had been a month ago. He vowed to himself that he would make it up to Sherri. McKenna was right, a dinner a week that he didn’t break for anything was what he should have already been doing.
A jittering energy rippled through him and he pushed up so abruptly from his desk chair that he almost tipped it over. For so long, his life had been the stable, constant thing he needed—steady, interesting work, steady relationship, steady family. Now it was all going to hell and he wanted to scream until his lungs burned.
He glanced at clock above his desk. Five p.m. He hadn’t eaten all day because he’d basically glued himself to his desk. Not that it made a lick of difference. The app had stalled…just like everything else.
To make matters worse, he’d been dodging calls from a prominent tech reporter who wanted to interview him about the new project. It was an opportunity he would have leaped on a few months ago, but now it felt like salt in the wound. If Beckett didn’t fix things with Lionus, then he was doomed—by the time he found a new investor someone else might’ve beat him to the punch. In this industry, if you couldn’t move quickly why even bother?
All his issues felt like they were layered on top of him, each negative thought increasing the pressure on his shoulders. The only joy he’d had since this whole thing blew up was when he was with McKenna.
“You should be with someone who excites you.”
God, since when did he start taking relationship advice from his mother? After Beckett’s father died, Minnie went on a rebound and never bounced back. She let a man walk in and out of her life, using her when he felt like it, and discarding her the rest of the time.
McKenna excites you.
It wasn’t only her incredible curves and flirty smile that came to mind. It was her laugh, the crinkle that formed in her button nose whenever she was trying to figure him out. It was her uniqueness, her spark.
He swallowed. No, it was simple, red-blooded animal attraction and that was all. McKenna was beautiful, playful, sexy. Who wouldn’t be attracted her? But physical chemistry wouldn’t sustain a relationship. He needed stability. He needed someone who wanted the same things in life, someone with whom he shared more than a sizzling connection.
Sure, he was attracted to McKenna. But he wanted to be with Sherri. And that’s what he had to focus on.
He glanced back at his computer, knowing that he should keep working. Keep pushing. But it was obvious he needed to clear the air with McKenna, otherwise he wasn’t going to get anything done.
…
All day McKenna had oscillated between being angry at herself for kissing Beckett and wanting to storm down the hallway and pound on his door until she could see him again. Every word of the email she’d written to him had been like another needle in her skin. The four-point plan was pathetic, but she had to do something. Anything.
She wanted to push him away. Or rather, she wanted to protect herself. Because the more she got to know Beckett, the more she was convinced that his ex was an idiot to let him go. That beneath a stoic and sometimes gruff exterior was a kind, smart, passionate man. The kind of man she wanted…but who never seemed to want her.
“Hey.” Isla reached out and touched her arm. “You’re really out of it tonight.”
Emery made a noise of agreement. “You’re like the walking dead, right now.”
McKenna sighed. “Tell me about it.”
She looked down at the table where they’d spread out a bunch of makeup. Every six months the CAM-Ready Cosmetics staff got their “gratis,” which was basically a ton of free makeup. But McKenna’s drawers were overflowing and her freelance kit was full to the brim, so she let Emery and Isla come over and pick through her collection.
“Want to talk about it?” Isla cocked her head, her fair brows crinkled.
“I don’t think it would help, to be honest.” She sighed and reached for a lipstick in a funky silver tube, half-heartedly swiping it on the back of her hand. “I need to make peace with the fact that I’ll never be able to make good decisions for myself.”
Isla reached past her and grabbed a pale-pink blush in a heart-shaped container. “Career or love?”
“Career, love, family.” She sighed. “All of the above. Not that you would understand, Little Miss Perfect.”
McKenna had meant it as a joke, an attempt to lighten the mood, but her friend frowned. “You really think that?”
“Umm, who doesn’t think that?” Emery scoffed.
“What did you call me, Em?” Isla tapped a fingertip to her chin. “A deranged Stepford wife in the making?”
“I kid because I love.” Emery shrugged.
“Oh, and she’s one hundred percent jealous,” McKenna said, shooting her friend a knowing look as she pulled the top off another lipstick. “I am, too. You’re getting married to a guy who adores you. Your job is awesome. And the worst thing is, we can’t even hate you because you’re just a kind, generous person. You make me sick.”
“And what about me, huh?” Emery planted her hands on her hips. “Where’s my string of compliments?”
“You’re prickly as a cactus and twice as stubborn.” She nudged Emery with her elbow, making sure she knew that—despite the truth—the ribbing was well-intentioned. But her friend’s expression was a little misty. “But I love you anyway.”
“Did I ever tell you I was engaged once before?” Isla asked.
McKenna blinked. “No. I had no idea.”
“I left him at the altar.” She toyed with the magnetic closure on an eyeshadow palette, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. “I was all dressed up in this big, expensive gown. Vera Wang, of course, because that’s what I thought I had to have. My hair and makeup were done. The bridesmaids had all gone to sort out an issue with the groomsmen. They left me alone for five minutes and I ran like a bat out of hell.”
“Why?”
“Cold feet, I guess. It was like a total out of body experience.” She laughed bitterly. “The truth is, I wasn’t sure if he was the one. But he ticked all the boxes, and I didn’t know why I had this gut feeling that something wasn’t right…but I did.”
“You made the right call.” Emery nodded solemnly.
“What happened?” McKenna shook her head, shocked by Isla’s very un-Isla-like revelation and the fact that Emery had never told her. “You just left the church?”
“Yup. I snuck out in my dress and made it all the way to the parking lot before Em spotted me.” She pressed her fingertips to her temple, her enormous engagement ring flashing like a star. Emery, for once, was without a sarcastic response. Instead, she rubbed her sister’s back in slow circles. “They tried to talk me into walking down the aisle but I couldn’t do it. I’ve never felt like more of a failure in my whole life.”
If Isla had made that kind of mistake, then what the hell kind of hope did anyone else have? This was the woman whose birth certificate likely read: Isla “I’ve got my shit together” Richardson.
“So now I’ve spilled my secret,” Isla said. “How about you tell me what’s going on with you?”
McKenna sighed. “I went off track with Operation Self-Love.”
“How off track?” Emery pushed her glasses up over the bridge of her nose. “Are we talking a misdemeanor or a full-blown pre-meditated violation?”
“A misdemeanor. Let’s call it reckless kissing.”
“Under the influence?”
“No, I can’t even blame it on being drunk. I’d come back from dinner with my parents and I was sober as a judge.” She spun a lipstick around, watching the light catch on the grooves in the gold casing. “I’d had a really crappy day and Beckett was there, being all sweet and sexy. He even designed a new website for my business without me asking him to, and he told me he believes in me.”
“He sounds really sweet.” Isla frowned. “Is it so bad that you kissed him? I mean, in the grand scheme of things? I get why you want to do this whole ‘self-love’ thing, but it doesn’t have to be a hard and fast rule.”
“He’s the guy I’m helping to get his ex back.”
Isla pressed her lips together. “Oh.”
“And I found out that one of the reasons he wants her back is because her father is funding his startup.”
Emery raised a brow. “So he’s into her because she’s rich?”
She drummed her fingers against her knee. “You know, every time I think that…it just…doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He seems like a genuinely good person. He cares about his family, he’s passionate about his work.” She huffed. “He’s not a loser deadbeat in the making like some of the guys I’ve dated—but he’s not a pretentious dickhead, either.”
“So you kissed him. What changes?”
“That’s the thing, I don’t know. I hightailed it out his apartment after it happened. Real mature.” She rolled her eyes. “And then this morning I sent him a four-point plan on how he can get his ex back.”
Isla cringed. “Did he respond?”
“I haven’t heard a peep from him all day.”
“What do you want to happen?” Emery asked with a pointed look, as though she already knew the answer.
McKenna had learned a long time ago that wanting was a dangerous thing, because it set you up for failure. The second you admitted you wanted something, not getting that thing made you feel like a piece of crap. But in her quest to do her own thing—and to avoid feeling disappointed in herself, since she got enough of that shit from her family—she’d apparently set the bar so low she tripped over it on the way to her front door each morning.
She’d been stuck in her retail job for several years, only now taking a leap to build her freelance business when she should have been doing it from the start. But fear of failure had kept her stagnant.
Maybe that was why she always chose the wrong men. Either picking ones who weren’t her type so she wouldn’t feel bad when they broke up, or aiming for someone too perfect so she wouldn’t give herself the chance to get attached. But Beckett didn’t fall into either of those categories. He wasn’t perfect, far from it. But he had all the things that attracted her: ambition, intelligence, and personal quirks that made him interesting. Not to mention that the packaging was spot on.
“It wasn’t a trick question,” Emery said, nudging McKenna with her elbow.
“I want him,” she whispered, hating herself for not being able to deny it.
Dammit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be worrying about herself, focusing on her work and taking a break from the cycle of relationship failure.
Who says it has to fail?
The whisper may as well have been the roar of a typhoon. Because now she’d admitted it aloud, there was no taking it back.
“I know I shouldn’t. He’s supposed to be engaged to someone else…”
“But he’s not,” Emery pointed out. “She called things off, correct? They are officially broken up.”
“Right.”
“And he hasn’t seen her in that time?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Then you haven’t done anything wrong and neither has he.” Isla placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up for this.”
“But I feel so guilty.” McKenna dropped her head into her hands. “God, why am I so stupid?”
“You’re not stupid. There’s obviously chemistry between you two, or you wouldn’t be feeling like this,” Isla said.
“And so what?” Emery threw her hands up in the air. “Sorry to be the blunt one, as usual, but she dumped him. It’s finito. Over. Donesky.”
Isla rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we get it, Em.”
“Ergo he’s single,” Emery said. “So what the hell is the problem?”
The memory of her body sparking under his touch shot through her, burning her up. “He still wants to be with her, not me.”
“Do you think he goes around building websites for everyone?” Emery asked. “From what you’ve said, the guy barely speaks two words unless he’s forced to, but suddenly you’re going to his place for ice cream.”
“Talk to him,” Isla said. “If he kissed you, then he must feel something. But if he’s still hung up on the ex then walk away.”
The thought of cutting ties with Beckett made her stomach flip, and not in the good way. Lately, seeing him had been the highlight of her day. Watching his serious expression morph into a crooked grin when she said something funny, seeing the anger in his eyes on her behalf…it made her feel desired. Cared for.
Which was more than she could say for any of her exes.
“You’re right.” She bobbed her head. “I’ll talk to him and clear the air. I don’t want to go on not knowing if these feelings are mutual. It’s sad, but…with most other guys I could take them or leave them. But I really like him.”
That was the difference. Breaking up with Gage had dented her ego. But losing Beckett would dent something far more important—her heart.
“Then it’s worth exploring. But don’t let him think he can have his cake and eat it, too.” Isla slung an arm around her shoulders. “You deserve better than that.”
McKenna swallowed, a fluttering sensation like the beating of butterfly wings filling her with nervous energy. “Yeah, I do.”
The women pushed up from their chairs and grabbed their bags. “We should get going,” Isla said. “I promised Mum I’d go with her to look at some outfit options for the rehearsal dinner and I’m dragging this one along with me.”
“Ugh.” Emery rolled her eyes and broke into a laugh when her sister pretended to strangle her.
“Have fun.” McKenna leaned over the table to tidy the makeup, slotting each item back into their respective packages.
“We will.” Isla laid a hand gently on McKenna’s shoulder. “And if you need to chat or vent about the guy thing, you know I’m here for you.”
“Same here.” Emery leaned in and gave her a quick hug.
“Thanks, ladies. I appreciate it.”
She walked the two women to the front door and waited while they grabbed their coats and scarves, bundling themselves up to face the cold.
“Let me know how it goes,” Isla said. “I’m going to be an old married woman soon, so I need to live vicariously.”
“Ha. Consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to go through this anymore.” McKenna pulled the door open. “It’s not easy.”
“What’s not easy?” The male voice made McKenna jump and she found herself pinned by Beckett’s laser-like blue gaze.
“Uhh…” McKenna’s brain sputtered.
“Looks like that’s our cue to leave,” Emery said, mouthing “call me” once she was out of Beckett’s field of vision.
He stood in her doorway, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, which had “if at first you don’t succeed, call it beta version 1.0” printed in white letters. Is that what this was? A test?
He planted his palm against the wooden frame of her door. “We need to talk.”