Читать книгу Not Another Wedding - Jennifer McKenzie - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOU’RE BRINGING SOMEONE to brunch?” His mother’s voice rose slightly. “A date?”

Beck shrugged and turned back to his laptop. His mother had love on the brain. As usual. A woman who’d been married four times, and twice to the same man—his father—clearly thought about love on a regular basis. Too bad she didn’t put as much thought into who she decided to marry, seeing as she’d also been divorced four times.

He didn’t bother to respond to her query. It was early Sunday morning, a few hours before everyone was due to arrive for brunch, and he’d been sitting at the kitchen table innocently doing some work when his mother barged in under the guise of bringing him some flowers. Like he cared about a bouquet of flowers.

“Beck? Is this a date?”

He shrugged again. It wasn’t not a date. But he and Poppy hadn’t gotten into specifics. If he’d pushed, he was pretty sure she would have changed her mind about attending and he needed her.

Just before he’d dropped his little guest bomb, his mother had made a sly comment about seating Grace next to him at the table. Beck didn’t mind if his mother got her own hopes up only to have them dashed—she’d be bringing that on herself. But he wasn’t comfortable with her getting someone else’s feelings involved.

Grace might be a bit sheltered, but she didn’t deserve to have her head filled with nonsense about how Beck was waiting for the right woman to come along.

He wasn’t waiting for anyone.

“Well.” She clapped her hands together. Oh, yeah. She definitely had flowers, gowns and seating plans spinning through her mind. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

He’d known his mother would behave like this, which was why he’d avoided telling her about his guest. That and the fact that he hadn’t wanted to hunt her down at the big house where his parents were probably mooning over each other. So he’d barricaded himself in the guesthouse.

It wasn’t as if he was hiding. Not exactly. He had a lot of work to do. Firing off emails to his lawyer and real estate agent, keeping in touch with the management at the five other properties the Lefebvre Group owned and drawing up a budget for the proposed renovation once the hotel purchase was completed.

This was the first project he’d be running single-handedly since this was the first hotel they’d acquired in a decade. Under his father’s leadership, the company had maintained its status as purveyors of elegant boutique hotels for the luxury market, but Beck wanted more. To grow the Lefebvre brand into a global vision.

Assuming his mother let him get anything done.

She fussed with the flowers until she appeared satisfied with their appearance. Beck didn’t know why she bothered; he’d forget about them when she left and they’d end up wilting into a sad mess until someone else removed them.

“So this date...” She let the words trail off casually. As though he didn’t know she was already making plans for weddings and grandchildren. “Who is she?”

He said nothing, hoping she’d take the hint and go. Instead, she grabbed a coffee mug and poured herself a cup from the pot he’d made earlier.

“Is this the young woman I saw you with Friday night?” Victoria sat down in the chair across from him. Like they were a couple of old biddies settling in for a good chat. “The redhead?”

“Her hair is auburn,” Beck found himself saying. The thought of Poppy’s scowl whenever he claimed otherwise made some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “Poppy.”

“Poppy? The Poppy from that summer?” Victoria’s blond eyebrows shot straight up.

Beck’s stomach knotted. “Yes.” But he was surprised she remembered. She’d been caught up in her own life that particular summer. Before everything had crashed down on them.

“Poppy.” She ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “You and she were pretty serious.”

“Not that serious.” He wasn’t sure why he said that. He and Poppy had been serious. First loves, first lovers, first a lot of things. First heartbreak. He sipped from his own coffee, which had gone cold a while ago.

“No, I remember. You felt strongly about her.”

Beck didn’t reply. He’d felt strongly about a lot of things back then. But most teenagers did. His hormones had eventually calmed down.

A smile played around the edges of Victoria’s lips. Clearly, she didn’t have quite the same memories of that time in their lives. “You were upset when we had to leave. You wanted to call her.”

“We didn’t have to leave.” Beck put a stop to her little walk down memory lane. “You decided we were leaving and told me I was coming with you. I didn’t have a choice.”

He recalled everything clearly, even if his mother didn’t. Coming home after dropping off Poppy, plans for how he was going to spend the next two weeks with her by his side filling his head. The night had been cool and cloudless. He’d tried to convince Poppy to stay with him, to sleep under the stars and watch the sunrise in the morning, but she’d told him her parents would kill her and ban her from seeing him the rest of the summer.

They’d kissed for a long time before she’d finally climbed out of the car and skipped up the steps to her house. He’d waited until she’d gone inside and driven home slowly, everything about the night replaying in his head. Life had been good.

And then everything had turned to garbage.

The lights in the big house were all on, blazing a trail across the driveway. Beck had known before he parked that something was wrong. His parents didn’t leave all the lights on unless they were having a party. Or fighting.

He’d thought about heading back down the side path that led to the unfinished guesthouse, grabbing the blankets and pillows, some candles, too, and sleeping on the dock. He could watch the stars and the sunrise on his own.

But he’d heard the raised voices, and he’d known he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Victoria, I didn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me. I heard the message. I heard her voice. You promised you’d never do that again. Never.”

“I didn’t, you have to believe me.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Victoria...”

Beck had slipped through the front door, but not quietly enough to avoid catching their attention.

“Beck—” his mother’s eyes had been like ice “—pack your things, we’re leaving.”

“But—”

“No buts. Your father—” she’d paused long enough to shoot him a look that probably froze the man’s bits off “—has a friend coming to stay.”

Beck had looked at his father as his heart sank. Again?

“No.” Harrison had shaken his head. “That isn’t true. You misunderstood the message, Victoria. Let me explain.”

“Beck, let’s go.”

They’d left that night, headed back to Seattle, where she’d served his dad with divorce proceedings. It wasn’t the first nor the last time they’d tried to drag him into their mess of a relationship. But it was the first time he’d understood he didn’t have to let himself be dragged.

Rather than staying with his mother in Seattle, watching while she packed up his father’s belongings and stuck them in the garage until he came and took them to his new house, Beck had moved in with a high school friend for the remainder of the summer and then bolted to his university dorm for the start of his freshman year.

Living on campus, away from the parental hubbub, made it easy to avoid phone calls and family dinners. He had essays and labs, finals to prepare for. He told them he wanted to get the full university experience, which wasn’t possible if they called him home every other weekend.

His mother paused midsip and put the cup down untouched. “Beck, I—”

He cut her off. “Don’t. Just don’t.” He didn’t get upset about the past. Not anymore. “It was a long time ago.”

“You’re still upset.”

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but he didn’t want to have a long, detailed discussion with her either.

“I’d like to talk about it.”

“Another time.” He gestured at his computer screen where his in-box sat empty. “I have to work.”

“Right. Of course.” Her smile, though friendly, didn’t reach her eyes. She rose and carried her cup to the sink. “I’m looking forward to meeting Poppy.”

Beck kept his eyes on the computer screen.

“I want you to be happy.”

He raised his eyes and forced the smile she wanted. “I am happy.” But he’d be a lot happier once this wedding was over and his life returned to normal.

* * *

“ARE YOU GOING to sleep with him?”

“Cami.” Poppy’s cheeks burned, no doubt returning to the red state they’d been in all last night. “It’s just a brunch.”

That’s all it was: brunch. Just because he was still deliciously attractive, the kind of attractive that made a woman consider her stance on one-night stands, didn’t mean Poppy would. He’d hurt her once. Badly. And though she’d moved on and he’d offered up an apology, she wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive him.

Her sister, brother-in-law and niece had turned up at the house about ten-thirty Sunday morning in a whirlwind of pregnant demands and laughter. Holly was currently running around the backyard, entertaining her father and grandparents with her imitation of an airplane, which left the sisters alone inside.

Poppy realized this was all part of Cami’s plan to make sure she was around to check out Beck for herself.

Poppy had tried to figure out a way to avoid the brunch, but had come up with zero options. And when she’d texted to tell Beck she’d drive herself, he’d refused and told her he was picking her up whether she liked it or not. Which was why she found herself now with one ear on the conversation with Cami, and the other listening for signs of a car pulling up. If she was quick, she might be able to get him out of here before the third degree.

“I didn’t mean during the meal.” Cami grinned and settled into one of the chairs around the table in their parents’ kitchen.

“Not any other time either,” Poppy said, though she couldn’t deny the lightning bolt of attraction that zipped through her when she thought of Beck. Whatever. She was an adult now and not interested.

She wore nude-colored heels and a simple green dress with white polka dots that was cinched at the waist with a skinny purple belt. Her hair was tied into a loose bun, showing off the dangling purple earrings that matched her belt. It was going to be another hot day, so she’d decided on a minimum of makeup again. Not that anyone could tell over her blazing cheeks.

“If you need privacy,” Cami continued, a smirk spreading across her face, “I can get Mom and Dad to clear out for the afternoon. You can use your old bedroom.”

Poppy shot her a dirty look. “Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have your own house to eat breakfast in?”

“I do, but I’m too tired to cook, and Mom promised Holly pancakes. So? Should I tell them to make themselves scarce?”

“Of course not.” Poppy brushed at the flirty skirt of her dress. It was immaculate, but she needed to do something with her hands before she strangled her sister.

“Why not? He’s hot. You’re single.”

“We don’t even live in the same country,” she told her sister.

“Who said anything about that? I was just talking about the fling you could have, allowing me to live vicariously through you.”

Poppy stared pointedly at Cami’s stomach. “I don’t think you need to live vicariously through any fling I might have.”

“Who’s having a fling?” Rose stepped into the kitchen, carrying a bouquet of fresh-cut peonies. She pulled a vase down from the cupboard and filled it with water before arranging the flowers inside.

“There’s no fling,” Poppy said.

“Poppy and Beck,” Cami answered. “Don’t you think they make a cute couple?”

“Adorable.” Rose glanced up from the flowers with an interested expression. “Does this mean you’re going to sleep with him?”

“No,” Poppy said, trying not to shout. But really, talking to the two of them was like conversing with a brick wall. “It’s just brunch and I’m not talking about this with you.” Having the sex talk with her mother as a kid had been scarring enough. Wasn’t it sufficient that she knew the basics of how to protect herself and her body? Did she have to share the details of who, when and where too? Even though there would be none of that with Beck.

“Well, if it’s just brunch, there’s no need for you to get so upset,” Rose said, her voice mild as she carried the flowers over to the table, placing them in the center.

“Classic overcompensation,” Cami agreed.

“What part of not wanting to talk about this did you two miss?” Poppy checked the front window, suddenly desperate for Beck to show up. She’d take his sexual baiting over this any day.

“I think you should.” Rose stepped back from the table, admiring her display. “He’s very attractive.”

Poppy shut her eyes and counted to five. She wished Wynn were here already. He had a knack for charming her mother and sister on to other topics. Of course, knowing Wynn, he’d be as interested as them in her sex life. Maybe if she were lucky a giant hole would swallow her up. But when she reached the end of her countdown, her mother and sister both still watched her.

“You know, dear...” her mother started.

Poppy turned a beseeching look toward her sister. “Please, make her stop. You owe me. I found you soft-soled shoes.”

Cami grinned. “Okay, Mom. Stop torturing your younger daughter.”

“I’m not torturing her. I have plenty of knowledge and experience—”

“Ack!” Cami jerked back, causing the chair to squeak across the kitchen tiles.

Poppy clapped her hands over her ears, causing her earrings to slap against her neck. “Stop, I’m begging you!”

“—seeing as I’ve been happily married for thirty some odd years.”

“No more. I give. Uncle. Whatever you want. I’ll do it.”

“You’re going to make my water break all over your nice clean floor.”

“Girls, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. Sex is—”

Poppy was so relieved when she heard a car pulling up outside, she practically ran for the door. Okay, no practically about it. She went into an all-out sprint.

“Where are you—” Rose started to ask as Poppy exited the kitchen.

“He’s here.” The chair squeaked again as Cami pushed herself up. “Go, Mom, go.”

They reached the entryway before Beck had even gotten out of his car. They watched silently as he emerged, all dove gray suit and dark hair. Cami sighed first, followed by Rose. Poppy stared at both of them. “You’re a pair of happily married women.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re dead.”

“We should invite him in for coffee. It would only be polite.”

“No.” Poppy clutched her purse to still the sudden shaking of her hands. He looked good. Too good. She reminded herself it didn’t matter. He was an ex. One she had long since gotten over, and any relationship they had now was a means to an end. As soon as she had her conversation with Jamie and was satisfied he wasn’t making a mistake, this back-and-forth with Beck would end. “His family is probably waiting for us.”

When he knocked, she shooed the other two back before they bowled him over with their enthusiasm, then steeled herself to the inevitable small talk and opened the door.

He grinned down at her. “Good morning, Red.”

“Stop calling me that.” She scowled at him from the doorway and did her best to ignore her mother and sister snickering behind her. When the hyenas showed no sign of letting up, she shot a glare in their direction. “That nickname includes you two, as well, seeing as we all have the same hair.”

They stopped laughing and regarded him with considerably cooler gazes. Poppy scored herself a mental point. See how wonderful they thought he was now.

But of course, he apologized and flattered them, accepted the cup of coffee her mother forced on him, and by the time they left, her mother and sister were practically begging to be his slaves.

“Smooth,” Poppy told him as they pulled away from the house.

He lifted a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Winning over my family. I don’t know why you bothered. This is only for today.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m only going with you so I can talk to Jamie.”

“So it’s like that, Red?”

Obviously he was trying to get a rise out of her. She should smile politely or ignore him entirely, but she couldn’t help her reaction. “For the millionth time, my hair is auburn.”

“Doesn’t have the same ring.” He snaked a glance her way. One that had a shiver trailing its way up her spine. “‘You look gorgeous enough to eat, Auburn.’ Doesn’t work.”

She ignored the banter—she was so above the banter—and curled her fingers around her purse. She didn’t care if he thought she was gorgeous. “Then why don’t you try using my name?” Her smile could have cut glass, which she knew because she caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror.

“Not as much fun.”

She tossed her hair. “You would say that.”

“But I’m willing to cut a deal.” His fingers played over the steering wheel. Poppy found herself watching them as they stroked the soft leather.

“What?” She yanked her eyes away. “You’ll stop calling me that if I sleep with you?” The minute the words escaped her mouth, she wanted to stuff them back in. She blamed her mother and sister entirely. If they hadn’t been harassing her all morning, she would be on her A-game and not thinking about sex with Beck.

“I’m definitely open to the offer.”

“It’s not an offer.” Where was a corner to curl up into a ball and hide in when you needed it?

“It sounded like one.”

She decided to change the subject. “How are you going to get me some time with Jamie?”

“I preferred the other line of discussion.”

“I didn’t.” She forced herself to watch him and not notice the curve of his eyelashes. “Or would you prefer to handle your mother and Grace on your own?”

She saw the small shudder. “Definitely not.”

“Right. So we have an agreement. You help me and I’ll help you.”

His eyes slid toward her. “We have something, Red.”

Poppy thought about that as he turned down the road that ran the length of the lake. It was a gorgeous summer morning and people were already splashing around in the water. Brightly colored kayaks and swimmers dotted the flat surface. It had been a long time since she’d gone for a dip.

He was right. There was something left between them. She just wasn’t sure what.

After about ten minutes, they turned up a winding road. The houses here overlooked the lake and had their own beachfront. They were spaced farther apart, too. Poppy hadn’t spent much time up here. The homes were vacation properties for those who could afford them and, except for Beck, she hadn’t known anyone who lived in them.

She recalled some of the rougher kids from high school used to come up here and drink on their lawns, leaving behind empty beer cans and chip bags as proof of their daring. She’d even come up once with them, shortly after the Beck fiasco when she’d been feeling used and sensitive and hoping to forget everything, but she hadn’t liked it. Not the taste of the beer, the slithery sensation of her date’s tongue or littering on a stranger’s property.

“Here we are.” Beck steered into a curving driveway, past trees and shrubbery, which opened onto a masterpiece.

Poppy had seen a lot of gorgeous homes in her years as an event planner. The glorious historic houses in Vancouver’s Point Grey neighborhood, the elegant penthouse suites in downtown high-rises and the luxurious mansions in the British Properties. But this took her breath away.

All wood and glass, the house seemed to emerge from the trees in bits. Decks and windows and railings, with seats placed perfectly throughout for curling up and enjoying a book in.

“It’s gorgeous.” She itched to see the inside, already certain the interior would live up to the outside. The parties she could plan here. She pictured people spilling across the wide front lawn. Everyone in white, like a Gatsby party, with a jazz quartet playing on one of the lower decks, and champagne towers overflowing.

He pulled the car to a stop and loped over to her side to open her door.

“Thank you.” She allowed him to help her out, stared at him when he didn’t move or let go of her hand. “You’re in my space.”

“Yes.” He leaned harder, pressing her into the side of the car. Their eyes locked. His filled with a gleam she couldn’t identify. Teasing? Tingling? Terrifying? “My mother is probably watching. We need to make this look good.”

“Make what look good? This is just brunch.” But she didn’t move. A bird warbled in the trees. Beck’s head tilted, moved closer to hers. Desire and panic swirled through her. She placed a hand on his chest, surprised to feel the rapid beat of his heart.

He placed his hand over top hers. A pose she was sure appeared intimate from a distance. She should pull her fingers free, step to the side and suck in some fresh air to clear the mental haze from her head, but she stayed where she was, caught in the magnetism of Beck’s eyes.

“If you think I’m kissing you—” she whispered.

He smirked. “I wouldn’t ask.”

Of course he wouldn’t. She glared at him and dropped her hand. “I’m only here to act as a buffer.” To make sure that his mother didn’t try to sic Emmy’s sister on him, though quite frankly, he deserved it.

Beck murmured his assent, but didn’t move, his hips pinning her in place. She couldn’t break their connection without making a big production. And she was willing to do it. Completely willing. As soon as her heart slowed down.

She watched Beck’s head turn to the side. She turned, too, trying to spot whatever, or whoever, he was looking at, but the house remained a beautiful blank facade. Apparently that was enough for Beck.

He picked her hand back up and tugged her into motion. She almost stumbled. Would have had her fingers not been so tightly clasped in his. Or was that the reason she had stumbled in the first place?

She blinked to clear her head as they walked up the driveway to the tall, oversize front doors. But he surrounded her on every level. The sound of his shoes slapping against the pavement, the outline of his body pressed into hers, his soft scent of leather and soap and the sight of his smirk when he turned to look at her.

Maybe she should just focus on the house.