Barefoot Summer (12 page)

There was no fudging this now with a little shift to the left or right.

Besides, Beckett had already taken a step forward. Madison placed her hands on his shoulders, her heart double-timing the beat of the slow song. She barely reached his chin, and she noticed a tiny cleft there. His jaw was freshly shaven, and a spicy hint of cologne teased her senses.

Kelly Clarkson began the first words of “A Moment Like This.”

“I’m Beckett.” She hadn’t heard his voice before, not like this. It was deep and husky, not like a teenager at all, but like a full-grown man.

“I know. Madison.”

His hands burned through her thin sweater at her waist. She remembered the first time she’d seen him, at the football game. You didn’t forget eyes like that when they bored into you. But since then, he’d ignored her. And since then, she’d paid attention to all the gossip about him.

He’d been caught putting graffiti on the old lumber warehouse, suspended for fighting, and accused of stealing a class ring from Bradley Moore’s locker—all of it since September. The class ring had been all the talk the past month.

She wondered what he was thinking, but not badly enough to look him in the eyes and ask. Her sweater had gone warm and itchy and her face burned, probably making her look like a clown.

His breath stirred the wispy curls at her temple, and she felt it clear down to her toes. None of the other boys she’d danced with had this effect on her, but then, they hadn’t been Beckett O’Reilly.

Cassidy caught her eye over Beckett’s shoulder and mouthed something she couldn’t read, her eyes wide.

Madison focused on the neckline of Beckett’s black T-shirt, on the lyrics of the song, on the pinch of her toes in the low heels. Her stomach felt like a popcorn machine, the contents popping wildly inside. Someone had to say something, break this awful tension. Apparently it wasn’t going to be him.

“Did you do it?” Of all the stupid things to say! She bit her lip.

“Do what?”

She couldn’t think of a different way to answer. “Steal the class ring?”

His muscles went rigid under her hands.

She winced. He must think she was the Goody-Goody Queen of Chapel Springs High.

She could feel his eyes on her. The popping intensified, assault and battery on her ribs. She could’ve asked after his grandpa or how his classes were going or any number of things.
Stupid!

“I’m not a thief.” Something in his tone surprised her, something sad.

Her eyes went to his, not quite believing what she’d heard. But when their eyes locked, she saw it there for just a second before he blinked it away.

The moment of unexpected vulnerability moved her. Somehow she’d thought Beckett O’Reilly incapable of actual feelings.

“I believe you,” she said.

Inscrutable eyes searched her face. He seemed to drink her in, and she let him. He had the longest lashes she’d ever seen on a guy. His nose was crooked at the bridge, probably from some fight. Not the most recent one, not from what she’d heard. There was an alluring dip in his top lip that—

The room went dark. Completely black. They stilled.

Someone whistled, and a few catcalls sounded before the noise level eclipsed the music.

“I guess someone’s trying to be funny,” she said. She should step away, even if the music played on. She was sure no one was dancing anymore. She could feel the movement of air brushing past them.

“I’ll probably get blamed.” Her hair stirred as he sighed.

“I’ll be your alibi.” She hoped he could hear the smile in her voice.

Someone bumped her, making her wobble on her heels. He pulled her closer, his arms tightening protectively. She wondered how a touch at her waist could send a shiver up her arms and make her scalp tingle.

“Most of it’s true,” he said in her ear.

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. What she wanted to ask was why? Why did he do those things? Why did he cause trouble when it was so much easier to follow the rules?

But before she could ask, his hands framed her face. The questions evaporated, replaced with sensation.

The roughness of his hands on her face. The hardness of his muscles against her palms. The spicy smell of him. Her breath filled her lungs and became trapped there.

She felt him coming closer, then his lips touched hers. They
were as gentle as a summer breeze and just as warm. He was gone before she could clear the fog from her brain, and she nearly whimpered for another chance. She hadn’t even moved! Had stood there like a mindless ninny. She thought of all the girls he’d gone out with and knew her kiss must’ve been his worst ever.

His thumb brushed her lower lip, making her tremble, making her wish she could see into his eyes.

Then his lips were on hers again, and she was suddenly grateful for second chances. She wasn’t going to waste it. She gave back, move for move.

Her response made him bolder. His arms tightened, drawing her closer. His shoulders were hard, his lips soft, an intriguing contradiction. The gym faded away as she floated someplace else, someplace wonderful and perfect.

Her hands slid up his shoulders, her fingers forking into his hair at the nape. It was as soft as she’d always imagined. Softer.

A light flared against her eyelids and the mike squealed. The perfect world disappeared.

Madison jumped back, her eyes flying open, taking in the movement and noise she’d somehow blocked out while she’d been busy throwing herself at Beckett.

Beckett O’Reilly!

They’d barely exchanged two sentences ever. Of course he’d try to make out with her; he was Beckett O’Reilly. But she didn’t have to respond like one of his Saturday night flings.

“Settle down, boys and girls,” Mrs. Pinsky said. “All right, let’s put on another song. And whoever did that . . . you
will
be caught.”

A dance song started. The fluorescents were growing brighter by the second. Her face had filled with heat, and she was sure
she looked like a clown now. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Beckett after kissing him so passionately.

Cassidy grabbed her arm. “Clearly, you need some air,” she said to Madison, casting a look at Beckett.

Cassidy didn’t have to persuade her to leave the gym or spill her guts once the heavy gym doors clanged shut. But when she’d returned to the dance, Beckett was gone.

And when she passed him at school the next Monday, he didn’t so much as look her way. But she still smiled when, later that month, she heard Bradley Moore had found his class ring behind his nightstand.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

B
ECKETT GLANCED AT
M
ADISON AS SHE SANDED
. T
HE GOGGLES
he’d brought swallowed her face, but they protected her pretty eyes. They’d been at it for almost two hours, and even with the mask, his mouth had gone dry.

A breeze cut through the yard, cooling his skin. The buzz of the sanders filled his ears, numbed his fingers, as he worked along the grain, paint chips flying.

His trip to Indy Saturday had gone just as he’d expected. His dad had asked after Grandpa, after Beckett’s work, then the conversation had dried up. When his dad’s last DUI had landed him in jail, Beckett had been almost relieved. He lived in fear his dad would kill someone. It was a miracle he hadn’t already. He’d started drinking when Mom had left and hadn’t stopped, despite Beckett’s and Layla’s repeated urgings to get help.

Beckett had driven home, his thoughts heavy as they always were after visiting his father. Dad had lost weight, his bristly cheeks gone hollow, his stomach flat under the beige uniform.

Beckett knew he should visit more, but the way he felt afterward lingered for days, and he couldn’t bring himself to go more than once a month. His dad had brought him nothing but shame all his life. Why that should make Beckett feel guilty, he wasn’t sure.

“We’re losing daylight.” Madison cut her sander and pulled off her goggles. With her hair in a ponytail, she looked about eighteen.

“How about a drink?” she asked.

“Sure.” Beckett followed her toward the house, Lulu right on his heels. Madison’s place was a small Cape Cod on a tree-lined street. It boasted a tidy patch of lawn and a cozy stoop perfect for good-night kisses.

He crossed the threshold, remembering the last time he’d entered her house, with a fistful of flowers and an accidental date. He wondered if Madison was remembering as she turned from the fridge with a water bottle.

“Thanks.” He drank his fill and wandered over to the kitchen window. Beyond the gauzy curtains the sun had sunk over the hills, streaking the sky with pink and purple. The house was quiet. Only the hum of the refrigerator broke the silence. He wondered if Madison had heard from Jade, but he wasn’t about to bring it up.

“Thanks for bringing the sandpaper. It’s going a lot faster.” She leaned against the counter and took a drink.

“A lot of old paint on there.”

Even in a sloppy T-shirt and worn jeans, with speckles of paint on her cheeks, she was beautiful. Her almond-shaped brown eyes needed no help from makeup, and her lips were perfect, rosy and full. His thoughts traveled back to that dance so long ago when he’d forgotten, just for a moment, that Madison was out of his reach. For that brief moment he’d let himself believe she might care. But that had been an illusion.

He walked toward the living room, stopping on the threshold, taking in the cushy sofas and braided area rugs. He noticed details he’d missed last time: a small built-in bookshelf brimming with books, lacy cloths covering mission-style tables, lamps that gave the room a homey glow. He felt the vast difference between her
comfortable lived-in style and his own stark décor. Remembered he shouldn’t even be here.

Why do I keep doing this to myself, God? The more reasons I have to stay away—and I have more now than ever—the more time I spend with her.
He owed her, for so many reasons, but paying off that debt was going to be the death of him.

“Need another?”

He turned and found her close. A wisp of hair had escaped her ponytail and fluttered in the breeze of the ceiling fan.

He took the bottle, his fingers brushing hers. She smelled like honeysuckle and cedar, an intriguing combination. She had flecks of paint in her hair, on her nose. He pocketed his free hand before he did something stupid.

Overhead, the fan clicked as it slowly rotated.

Madison finished her drink and tossed the plastic bottle into the recycling bin. Beckett was quiet tonight, his mood different. Somber. She wondered why. Something she’d said? Something that had happened at work?

She watched him take a drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed twice, three times before he capped the bottle, staring at his hands as he did so, his lashes feathering his cheeks.

He had a large flake of neon green paint under his cheekbone. She couldn’t let that go. She reached out and brushed at it.

His facial muscles tightened under her thumb as he flinched away. His eyes bounced off hers.

A sting of rejection pierced her somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. She drew back, leaving the flake of paint, letting her
arm fall. Heat climbed her neck and spread into her face. When was she going to get it through her head that he wasn’t interested?

He cleared his throat and turned toward the door. “I should go.”

Lulu, oblivious to the tension, bounded after him, black tail wagging.

“Thanks for the water,” he said as he reached the door.

“Thanks for your help.”

“See you Saturday.”

“See you.”

The door whooshed closed, and Lulu trotted back to Madison’s side. A moment later she heard his truck start, the tires spin on gravel. Apparently he couldn’t get out of Dodge fast enough.

Madison showered and changed into her pj’s, her mood soured. She flipped on a TV show but couldn’t keep her mind on it. All she could think about was the way Beckett had flinched.

She pulled the chenille pillow into her stomach. She needed to stop thinking about him. There were plenty of other thought-worthy men.

Drew had stopped her at church and asked her out next weekend. She’d promised to check her calendar and get back with him. Maybe she should call him. She wasn’t sure why she’d put it off. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t flinch away from her touch.

Her landline rang, and she reached for it. Drew? Beckett?

The caller ID listed an unknown area code. She frowned. “Hello?”

There was background noise. Quiet music.

“Madison?” She’d know her sister’s voice anywhere.

She sat upright. “Jade?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

“I’m sorry. I left you a note. And I called Mom and Dad.”

She drew a breath, reminding herself that her sister was too old to be scolded. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m in Chicago.”

“Chicago?”

“Can you believe Old Faithful made it that far?” Jade’s pea-green Ford had been on its last legs for five years.

“But you’re okay? Where are you staying? Do you need money?”

Jade breathed a laugh. “No, I don’t need money, big sis. I’m fine. I have a job. I’m staying with Izzy from high school. She’s been after me to come up here for a while.”