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She laughed, the easy sound just as mesmerizing as before, then plopped down on the couch, smiling over at him when he sat next to her. She didn’t talk, just snuggled under the blanket he gave her, falling asleep before he’d done more than flip on the television and dial in some cheesy romantic comedy.
Foster eased back, listening to her snuffle in her sleep, every breath whispering through the air. He had a bad feeling he’d gotten in way over his head, and it had nothing to do with the men who’d infiltrated his home.
Chapter Five
There must be something in the water in Raven’s Cliff. A drug or maybe a parasite. A scientific reason that explained that how in less than a week, Mackenzie had gone from wanting to punch Foster Beckett in the mouth, to wanting to kiss him.
That, or she’d simply lost her mind.
Mac leaned back in the chair, sipping on her coffee when the door to the Lighthouse Café opened, and Beckett breezed in wearing jeans, a black hoodie and a puffer vest. His dark brown hair was windblown from the next incoming storm, and he stabbed his fingers through it as he scanned the crowd, his gaze clashing with hers.
He smiled, and her heart did a weird flutter. She wasn’t sure if it stopped or sped up, but it took her breath away as he wove his way over, giving Chase a slap on the back when his best friend stood up.
Chase shook his head, motioning to the empty seat beside Mac, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d planned it so Foster would have to sit beside her. “How is it you always manage to be late?”
Foster shrugged. “Because you’re closer than I am. You were supposed to text me before you left, remember? I was in the middle of finishing the woodwork on the sitting room wall. It took a hot minute to get the last piece in right before I could leave.”
He looked at her, thumbing toward his buddies. “How do you work with them and not want to kill them?”
She laughed. “Who said I didn’t?”
“Now we’re talking.”
He slid into the seat, a subtle mixture of pine and cottonwood drifting over to her. Was he wearing cologne? Or was that just his natural scent? Either way, it had her heart fluttering again as she smiled for no apparent reason.
Mac gave herself a mental slap. She needed to get a grip before she started giggling like a freaking teenager. Sure, the guy was handsome. She’d acknowledged that from the start. And she’d definitely seen a different side of him the other night. He’d been charming and intelligent, with a quick wit that had put her at ease. And when he’d appeared out of the dark, dressed in only those sexy pajama pants, all the muscles in his arms and torso flexing as he’d swept the room with his Sig — his long hair tousled around his face — she’d gotten a good look at the man her father had painted. The warrior part of him that wasn’t suffering from some kind of trauma like in the helicopter.
And that had been the start of her descent into madness. One she was obviously continuing as she sat there, trying to focus on anything other than how good he smelled. It didn’t help that he’d dropped by the hanger a few times during the week, bringing coffee for the crew. He’d even braved a couple conversations with her father, staying remarkably calm as he’d handed the man a cup.
Her dad had frowned, glanced at her, then smirked. After that, Atticus had stayed eerily quiet whenever Foster had stopped by. As if he knew something they didn’t.
Obviously, Atticus had taken Foster’s less confrontational approach as him starting to bend to her dad’s way of thinking. And maybe Beckett was. Though, a part of her hoped he’d braved the visits because of her. Because he was just as confused as she was at whatever was transpiring between them. That moment she’d thought they’d shared the other night.
Before the men had broken into his house.
She shivered, goosebumps racing along her skin as she recalled the instant the guy had turned and all she’d registered were those monstrous eyes. She never screamed. Not during a scary movie and certainly not when faced with a threat. Yet, for a split second, she’d truly believed she’d come face-to-face with a monster.
Which was ridiculous. Sure, there were more than a few legends and ghost stories circulating through town. A couple directed specifically at that old manor house. But she’d never given them much credence. Had never shied away from a fight.
Fingers brushed along her arm, and she jumped, cursing inwardly when Foster frowned, glancing at his hand then up to her. “You back with us?”
She cringed when she realized his team was staring at her, eyes wide. Slight furrows in the brows. She smiled, doing her best to shake it off. “Never left. Why?”
“Either you were daydreaming or you’re seriously reconsidering there should be a round two between us because I asked how the flight was and you just stared into space.”
“I…” She scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I guess I’m still on edge from screaming like a banshee the other night. I swear I will never live that down.”
Foster scrunched up his face as if he thought she was nuts. Which, she probably was. “Forget it. Besides, the guys said you tackled some creep to the ground when he came raging into the hanger this morning. Sounds like your mojo’s just fine.”
“I think they exaggerated the incident a bit.”
Kash snorted. “If anything, we underplayed it so Foster didn’t get all protective. He has this thing about anyone threatening or disrespecting his team.”
She glanced at Foster, smiling at how he looked as if he wanted to throttle Kash. “I’m not part of his team.”
The three men chuckled, nodding at each other before answering, “Right,” in unison.
Foster leaned in as he draped his left arm over the back of her chair. “As usual, ignore them. They share a brain when they’re not working.”