CHAPTER EIGHT
Evie moved along the small walkway leading from Lo’s paved driveway. The condo’s entrance was sufficiently covered with a modest porch roof, and her friend had decorated the jutted space with a modern farmhouse feel.
The door was painted a dark hunter green, and a wooden sign that readWelcomesat balanced against the light gray siding nearby. Rested on the concrete below was an overflowing pot filled with gorgeous pink begonias, and to her right was a small accent table with a colorful mosaic top.
Evie’s attention, however, wasn’t really on her friend’s decorative front stoop, but rather on the man who’d been sweet enough to walk her to the door.
Aside from the nightmares she’d come to expect, there had also been good dreams since returning to the States. Ones starring none other than her very own personal hero.
Hot. Passionate. Soul-enchanting dreams that had left her craving.
But as good as Evie's fantasies about Beckett were, the fictional images locked in her brain were nothing like the real-life man.
He’d been mouthwateringly handsome when dressed in head-to-toe camo and covered in military-grade gear. But put the tall, dark, and deadly man in a pair of well-worn jeans, a dark gray henley—that hugged his muscular upper body like a glove, no less—and a pair of brown lace-up boots lightly scratched and worn on the tips…
Holy mother of hotness.
She stopped and turned to face him, trying not to drool. “Thanks again for lunch. It was really great seeing you again.”
So, so great.
“You, too,” he replied with his usual male rumble.
God, she loved his voice.
“And thanks for the ride,” she offered, not quite ready to say goodbye. “I really appreciate it.”
“Any time. And I mean that,” Beckett drawled. “You need anything while you’re in town, I’m your man.”
If only that were true.
Her inner thoughts—and overactive hormones—left her feeling flushed and a little out of sorts. When it came to the opposite sex, she wasn’t typically one to flirt or show interest. Not until she’d at least been given a sign that the other person was interested inher.
So far, Beckett had been a perfect gentleman. Which was great, except…
I kind of wished he wasn’t.
Oh, she appreciated the polite gestures like pulling out her chair at the restaurant or opening her car door. But sometimes, evenshepreferred a more take-charge attitude regarding her romantic interests.
And so far, Beckett had been completely and totally hands-off.
Maybe that’s because he’s not romantically interested in you.
A memory flashed even as the thought crossed through her muddled mind. She was back in the exam room on the ship. Beckett was standing before her, much like he was now. They were talking about her state of dishevelment, and then…
He said I was beautiful.
“Hey, about the thing with your dad…”
His trailed voice pulled her back into the present.
“It’s okay, Beckett.” She shook her inappropriate thoughts away while meeting his gaze. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Yeah?” One corner of his kissable lips turned upward.
Evie nodded. “I know I need to just forget about him and move on with my life. And I will.”
I hope.