Wrong then Right (A Love Happens Novel Book 2) (34 page)

“What are you doing?” Moving to the edge of the porch, she stood at the top step, not caring that she wore only panties and an unbuttoned men’s dress shirt, the tails hanging loosely.

The real estate agent, a stunning woman in her forties, looked up in surprise.

“Well, hello there, dear,” she said cordially, navigating the lawn carefully in her stylish black wedges. Juggling her phone and tablet, she reached for Hope’s hand. “I’m Donna Gleeson Decker, Beck’s Realtor.”

“Hope Coleson,” she said absently, shaking her hand automatically, her attention on Beck.

“Coleson?” she asked, with interest. “Are you related to Ash?” Hope must have nodded because she kept talking. “Oh, I just love him. And that reminds me, I need to download new security software on my home network and I might need his assistance. I’d love for him to come by, maybe do a few others things while he’s there. Do you have his private number, dear?”

“I have his cell,” Beck called out, seemingly happy to give her the information. “Tell him I gave it to you, too.”

He smirked, pleased with himself, and Donna nearly did a happy dance.

“What are you doing?” Hope repeated, as if the last minute hadn’t happened. “Beck,” she said more firmly, getting his attention. “What are you doing?”

She knew what he was doing. She was asking him why he was doing it.

“It’s time, Hope.” The sign installed for maximum visibility, he picked up his tools and walked toward the garage, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I’ve been dying to list this Craftsman for months,” Donna said. “And after weeks of dragging his feet, he finally gave me the go-ahead this morning. I’ll have multiple offers in no time. Probably over asking, too.” A small wrinkle formed on her polished forehead as she noticed Hope’s state of undress. “If I had a body like yours, I’d run around half naked, too, but you might want to button up that shirt, dear.”

Beck returned from the garage just as Donna gestured over her shoulder, adding. “There’s a nosy little witch across the street with her eye on your man, too.”

Hope looked that way, seeing the curtain in the front window drop. “She can have him, if she wants,” she said flippantly, not caring that Beck was standing right there. “I’m just using him for sex.”

After a beat of shocked silence, Donna laughed loudly and looked at Beck. “I like her.”

“Yeah, she moonlights as a comedian,” he said dryly. “When she’s not stripping.”

Hope’s mouth opened in outrage. “For your information, my official title is Cocktease Waitress. And you’re about to find out how good I am at my job. You’re officially cut off, buddy.”

His biceps bulged when he crossed him arms. “I think the sign in the yard makes it official.”

Damn it, she didn’t have a good comeback for that, beyond a withering glare that the entire female gender perfected by the age of thirteen.

Bless her heart, Donna knew it, too, smoothly interjecting. “Well, this has been quite an interesting morning, but I need to run. I’m meeting Ali for lunch. I’m not a fan of sushi, but I’m willing to eat it for my favorite sister-in-law.” Her gaze swung between them, seeing Beck return Hope’s glare with an intimidating scowl of his own. “Sam can’t deny his wife anything, but when it comes to sushi, he just won’t eat it. And you should know, she’s really my only sister-in-law, but as a person, I have to say that I like her very much.”

Realizing she was rambling, she took a few steps backward. “Okay, now. I’ll be in touch then. Tell Ash hello for me.” She turned to leave, then stopped, as if remembering something important. “And maybe you could also mention that I’m not seeing anyone right now? Not that I don’t have offers,” she rushed to say, gesturing down her body. “Because I do. I take Pilates three times a week. I’m very bendy. It’s just that I’m selective.” She took another step back. “Oh, and I don’t know that he’ll ask, but just in case, I would be open to...” She motioned between her and Beck, “whatever thing you two have going. You know, a
sex only
type thing,” she whispered, as if the entire block was listening.

Her car keys jingled as she gestured with her hands, “I know, too much information, right? Just tell him to call me, okay?” Holding her thumb and pinky up to the side of her face, she nodded her head, and with a dazzling smile, scrambled down the driveway.

If Hope wasn’t so shaken by the
FOR SALE
sign, she would’ve enjoyed the hell out of that one-sided conversation.

Donna pulled away from the curb and Hope broke eye contact with Beck, letting him win the silly staring contest. Rolling her eyes, she walked back inside, ignoring his chuckle as he followed her.

“I’m glad you think this is funny.” She whirled on him, her hands on her hips. Their public spat over, the seriousness of the situation became apparent. “You’re really gonna sell this house?”

“That was the plan all along.” He mirrored her stance.

“But plans change. How can you just walk away from it?”

“Easy.” He shrugged. “I never intended to keep it.”

“You put so much time and energy into it.” Was she talking about the house or their relationship? Because the difference was getting a little gray.

“And now it’s time to cash out.”

“But don’t you love this house? Just a little bit?” Okay, completely gray.

“I don’t love anything,” he said, shaking his head slowly.

“But you nurtured it. Brought it back to life.” She turned in a circle, looking around the living room. “It’s never going to be the same after you. You left your mark on it, Beck. You made it better. Please don’t walk away.” Yep. She was definitely talking about them.

“It’s just a house, Hope. An empty shell. I’ve done all the work I’m willing to do and the time has come to move on. This is as much of an investment as I’m capable of making.”

Was he talking about them, too?

She pressed her lips together, nodding as she thought about bubble baths and pet goldfish. “I want to believe you. And you’re talking a good talk, I’ll admit. But I’m just not buying it.”

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” he said, definitely talking about them. And he was brutally unapologetic. “I have no emotional attachment to it.”

Ouch. That was a punch to the gut. Lifting her chin, she tucked her hair behind her ears, using the moment to collect herself.

“So, that’s what you do then, huh? You fix things. You make broken things better. You do all the heavy lifting that others don’t have the constitution to do. Just like your whole,
I’m a problem solver, Hope
,” she said, deepening her voice as she imitated him, “
That’s what I do. I solve problems.
And then you just walk away like you’re some, too cool for school bad ass with nothing to lose? Did they teach you that in Navy SEAL class? Was there a course on how to be insensitive?”

“Yeah, there kinda was,” he said, interrupting her tirade.

“Then I bet you aced it.” And damn it, that better be a smirk on his face and not a smile or she was going to hurt him.

“You take houses that are neglected and abandoned,” she continued, trying a different approach. “Spending God only knows how much money to repair them. Sacrificing blood, sweat, and tears to make them valuable again. You resurrect something that was once in ruins. And then you beat feet, like it’s no big deal. Like it wasn’t all that important to begin with. But it is important, Beck. What you do with houses makes a difference and what you do with your job makes a difference. But, I don’t think you see your value. You just walk into whatever hot mess is up next, take care of business, and move on, no skin off your back, right? So, who was it, Beck?”

She spread her arms out, encompassing the house. And herself. “Who was it that told you, you don’t deserve this? That you don’t deserve to be happy?”

He stared at her, his eyes a dark emerald. “You don’t know shit, Princess.”

“Answer the question.”

The silence was heavy, but his reply was simple. “It’s just a house, Hope.”

Her shoulders sank. “Please, Beck,” she coaxed. “Give me more than that.”

“It was therapy. It was a distraction. It kept my hands busy and my mind occupied, at least temporarily. Fun while it lasted.” Walking into the kitchen, he rummaged around in the fridge for a bottle of water. “There’s not many more ways I can say it, Hope.”

His words cut her to the quick. “That’s bullshit, Beck. That’s some real shit to the bull, right there. And don’t play dumb. We’re not talking about this house anymore.”

His chin dipped, a subtle nod of agreement.

“It didn’t mean anything to you?” God, she didn’t want to be this person. The needy woman who clung to her ex-lover. Who fell apart and made a scene, letting her crazy flag fly. She just wanted answers. “It doesn’t ever mean anything to you, does it, Beck?”

Because honestly, that just made it worse. It proved she had no clue when it came to men. It proved that she could be played.

“What do you want me to say here, Hope? Do you want me to ask you to stay? Then stay. Don’t leave me.” The words might have sounded loving, if they’d been said with any emotion.

“No, that’s not what I want you to say. And I’m not staying, anyway. I’m going. I have a goal. A plan. No one is stopping me, especially a man. Too many have already tried.”

It wasn’t her heart talking now. It was her ego. And it was stretching the truth.

“I’m not trying to stop you,” he replied, looking irritated. “I just don’t know what you want from me.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe they weren’t destined to be together. Maybe she’d be one of those women who would wince in regret when recalling the loss of her virginity and the man who took it. Beckett Smith would be relegated to nothing more than a foggy, distant memory from back in the day. Years from now, Hope and her girlfriends would giggle drunkenly during happy hour, making fun of the idiots who’d popped their cherries.

But, as she looked at him now, with his arms crossed in defiance and his eyes shooting bright green fire, she saw him for what he really was. Beautifully rough, intimidatingly capable, and justifiably jaded. But that was on the outside. On the inside, the place where he kept his real self hidden, he was soft and needful. Vulnerable and empty. And just as beautiful.

And Hope knew he would never be reduced to a foggy memory. Not in a thousand years.

“Ask me to come back,” she said, with sudden conviction. “When I’m finished with school this spring. When I’ve achieved my goal and have my degree. Ask me to come back to you, Beck. And I will.”

She was placing a bulls-eye directly over her heart, knowing she stood in front of a man holding a fatal, poisonous arrow. It was emotional suicide.

He dropped his arms and stepped toward her, pushing wayward stands of hair from her face as he cupped her cheeks. Her breath hitched when his lips met her temple, a kiss of comfort and promise as he wrapped her in his arms. Choking out a watery, terrified breath, she reached around his waist, clasping her hands together. And she swore to herself in that moment that she would love this damaged man until he was whole. Until he was fixed. Even if it took her forever, she would love him until he knew soul deep that he deserved it.

“God, you’re gonna do great things, Hope. Never let anybody tell you different.” His rough voice cracked. “Meeting you was like hitting it out of the park and I’m damn lucky for it. You deserve so much more, princess. The whole fairy tale.”

He was going to say it. She knew he was.

In that moment, Hope would’ve bet her bank account and her bad news blanket on it. But after a long, lingering kiss to her forehead, she watched in a daze as he moved toward the door, grabbing his duffel along the way.

He stopped with his back to her, his hand on the knob. “Take your time packing. I won’t be back for a few days. Leave the key on the counter and lock the door behind you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

If a woman’s body made a sound when she started ovulating, Hope’s would be whistling Dixie right about now. And while she might be pissed as hell at Beck for the rest of her natural life, a visit to Scorpio Securities made it difficult to stay mad at the entire male population in general.

Because they grew ‘em mighty fine here.

After scouring the parking lot to ensure Beck’s black Mustang wasn’t present, but her brother’s Jeep was, she’d walked into the posh office suite on the sixteenth floor with the intention of getting in and out in record time. Her heart might be in a million little pieces, but she had a potluck to attend. If anything could cure her blues, it was red velvet boob cake.

Passing through thick glass doors, she entered the suite on silent feet, plush gray carpeting cushioning her steps. Hope stopped, taking it all in. There wasn’t a folding card table or plastic lawn chair in sight. No heap of bomb making equipment piled in the middle of the room. No wafting trail of cigar smoke or splats of tobacco spit on the floor. In fact, the air smelled woodsy and clean. Downright pleasant. Less cardboard air freshener in the shape of an evergreen tree, more sustainable bamboo rain forest. A woman was in charge of the air, she was sure, and probably the ultra contemporary furnishings, as well. But the artwork hanging on the walls was clearly testosterone inspired. No matter how upscale the modern space was designed, giving it a positively professional atmosphere, no woman would choose to showcase an assortment of decoratively framed firearms on her bisque colored walls.

The lobby of the office suite was vacant, a deserted front desk sitting to the side, organized right down to the perfectly stacked files and dust-free keyboard. The cartoon sippy cup and toy firetruck sitting on a yellow legal pad gave her pause, but a quick look at the business card on the desk and the framed photos on the credenza, and she gathered a woman named Caroline sat in that seat. And that she had small children.

When no one greeted her, Hope walked quietly down a wide hallway, peeking into open doorways, but the small offices were empty. Muffled male voices came from a room at the far end of the hall and she cursed under her breath, wondering why she’d chosen to visit Ash at work instead of sending him a text.