Page 16

Her Heaven is the raspberry juice I bust my balls to make sure she has, but my Heaven is her. I wondered if she knew she couldn’t have her Heaven without me.

“What kind of grown woman has playdough in her room?”

“And kindergarten flash cards.” She waved the bundle of cards tied in an elastic band and I wondered about this game she’d propositioned we play after her drink was poured.

“What are we doing with playdough and flash cards?” I let the cool rum and coke slide down my throat, watching the little bundle of energy curiously. This was the first time I’d seen Amara let loose, and really let loose.

I liked it. She was beautiful always, but she was extraordinary when she let herself move without thinking ten steps ahead.

“All right, Raina and I used to play this all the time,” She shuffled the flash cards before slapping them on the table, covering the stack with a little box that had two ends cut out of it. “So you can’t see the card you’re going to draw before you draw.” She explained the odd box.

“What do we do with the playdough?”

“Sheesh, a little impatient?” She eyed me teasingly through thick lashes, and fuck me, if she wasn’t drunk I think I would have made a move. “What color do you want?”

“Blue.” I was already looking into her brighter than bright blue eyes, so it was the first color on my tongue.

Sliding the blue playdough across the coffee table, she nabbed the purple for herself. Something we both could have guessed she’d do.

“We take turns drawing a card and we both have to sculpt whatever the card says. Whoever has the best when the sixty seconds is up gets the card. Whoever has the most cards at the end wins the game.”

“Sounds easy,”

“Oh, I’m good at this game. Very, very good at this game.”

By the time we’d gone seven rounds, I had the majority of the cards on my side of the table. It wasn’t because I was good at this whacked game she’d created, but because the rules were easy as fuck to bend and every time I bent a rule, I could see her heat flare. I wanted all that heat to explode.

“Mine’s the best.” I said.

“No, it’s not! Look at it, Beckett.”

“It’s the best mess.”

Bobbing her head, she huffed in agreement. “Exactly, a mess. ”

“But it’s the best. You said whoever had the best wins.”

“I meant the best as in the most perfect.” She gestured to her prim and proper purple elephant. “Clearly, mine.”

Hers was the best. She was a good little sculptor—so good, I really thought that if she took an art class she might actually be able to take her talent somewhere.

“Perfect is boring. Nobody wants perfect.”

She raised a brow, “You want a mess?”

“I want real.”

She blinked, staring at me with those beautifully parted lips I’d fucking kill to kiss. “Well, your real elephant looks like it has a shriveled up—um—carrot for a trunk.”

“Hey now,” dropping my hand over my heart, I feigned a wounded expression. “No need to get mean.”

“I’m being honest.”

“Your honesty is mean, my lady.”

“Yuck,” she scoffed. “I’m no one’s lady. You’ve been watching too much Game of Thrones. ”

Laughing, I slid the card from the middle of the table to my side. “I win this round. My shriveled—carrot trunk needs the ego boost.”

“You cheat!”

“I don’t know how you can play this game and not cheat. There are so many openings to cheat.”

“So you’re admitting to cheating?”

“I’m admitting to cleaning the table with your pretty little ass.”

She straightened, her expression one of indecisiveness as she contemplated leaning toward pissed or flattered. I grinned bigger.

“You’re something else, Beckett.” Flattered. Thank fuck.

“Glad I’ve made my impression on you, babe.”

“Oh, your ego definitely has made its impression.” She tapped her forehead, “stamped itself practically on my forehead.”

“You wanna go another round?” Tipping my chin to the playdough, I watched her shake her head.

“No. You’ll just cheat for another round.” She downed her glass and made to stand, teetering a little to the side. “Whoa,”

“Yeah,” Hurrying to round the coffee table I caught her arm in my hand to steady her wobbling frame. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Bed?” She shook her head. “I don’t want to sleep, Beckett.”

It was looking into those big blue eyes that I saw that castle of ice crumble. There was so much vulnerability; I felt it in my gut.

“Why not, beautiful?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” She admitted, and then she turned and walked toward her room.

It didn’t take longer than three seconds to make the decision to follow her.

Pausing in the doorway, I watched as she moved slowly to her bed, flopping down on top of her covers.

I chuckled, moving into the “raspberry fuzz” colored room.

Drowsy blue eyes watched as I snagged the blanket at the end of her bed, tugging it slowly up around her body.

It was when she rolled onto her side, tugging the foot of the panda I won her for Raina’s birthday at the summer fair, that my heart pulsed hard in my chest. Her arms circled the black and white bear as she pulled it tight to her chest, blowing a steady breath of air from her lungs.

“You like him?”

“I do.”

“Glad, beautiful.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Cause it’s the truth. You’re beautiful.”

“Mmm,” she didn’t smile and I watched as her eyes flickered open and then closed. “I’m so dizzy.”

“You’re so drunk.” I leaned forward to flick on her bedside lamp. “Just in case you need it in the night.”

“You’re leaving?” There was a frantic quality to her question that had me pausing by the door.

“Yeah, baby.”

“Please don’t,” she was watching me, waiting. “Just stay until I fall asleep, kay?”

I felt her words in my dick, and in my soul. The heavy pulse in my cock and soft stirring in my chest warred for dominance. A war I ignored as I slid my finger over the light, letting the lamp do all the work of illuminating her pink, or in her mind, purple, room.

“Right.” I moved to the bed, sitting beside her. “Until you fall asleep.”

She scooted over, patting the pillows. “You can lay down.”

Holy shit, the woman was going to test every hold I had on my restraint, I was sure of it. Still, I let my back connect with the bed, “Better?”

“Yes.”

Silence. Uncomfortable and yet contented silence. It stretched for long minutes until I heard her soft sigh.

“What’s up?” My voice was deep, husky.

“Will you talk to me?”

“What about?”

“Anything.”

Again, making it easy on me. Yeah, I know, I’m a sarcastic bugger. “You feeling happy right now?”

“I think maybe I am.” She whispered. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell. I was unhappy for so long.”

“Why?”

“I had a bad life. I knew bad people who did bad things. Sometimes those bad things were done to me and sometimes I watched.” Her next admission was quiet. “Sometimes I did bad things.”

Fucking hell. What was she talking about? “You want to explain?”

“Not really.” She admitted, and then she surprised me by doing just that. “I grew up in the system. Sometimes bad things happen to kids who have no one looking out for them.”

“What about your social worker?”

“There are too many kids in the system to get the proper kind of care. A lot of social workers are stretched too thin.” Her chin dipped into the fluff at the panda’s head. “Most are stretched too thin and sometimes kids slip through the cracks.”

“Did you slip through the cracks?”

“Sometimes.”

“How?”

“There was a boy I lived with who was really mean. He did things . . .”

My body turned tight. “Amara,”

“He had a really twisted sense of fun. Honestly, if I think about it now being a little older and a little wiser, he was a sociopath.”

A sociopath? What did she mean by that? “When I first met him he seemed fun and nice. He took risks and as a stupid girl I thought he was cool. He was so troubled, Beck.”

Her voice cracked and I felt the tense cord inside me snap. “Amara, you’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

“Yes.”

“You believe it completely—that I’d never hurt you. I’d never let anyone else hurt you.”

“I do.”

I wanted to touch her, but honest to Christ, I was terrified. What if I touched her, hoping to comfort her, and broke the fragile trust she’d given to me? What if I scared her? What if she thought I was playing a game?

“Don’t wanna talk about the past tonight, peanut,” I tried to sound at ease. “I want to know what you want in your future.”

“My future?” Big vibrant eyes met with mine. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“When you close your eyes and fantasize, what do you see?”

“You’re girly,” she teased, brushing the question off.

“I’m serious, Amara. What do you see? Everyone has a picture.”

“Well, if everyone has a picture, what’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

She huffed smartly, “And I’ll tell you mine after you tell me yours.”

“Don’t go to Vegas, you’re horrible at playing by the rules.”

“Says the man who cheats!” Her elbow knocked into my arm. “Besides, I thought Vegas was the place to break all the rules.”

“It probably is,” I admitted. “I haven’t been.”

“Do you want to go?”

“Someday, maybe.”

“Yeah, someday,” she reiterated, and that’s when I decided to give it to her. My dream. The picture I had for my life when I closed my eyes. My hope. My fantasy.

My someday.

“I want a wife who will give me babies I’ll love more than my career.

I want to build a family. Something real and true and right.

” I said low, shifting on her bed. “Don’t get me wrong, I know I’ll love my career.

But I want to want to come home at the end of the day.

I want the kind of love with a woman who will give me everything she has to give, because I’ll give it to her. ”

“You’re a really good man, Beckett. A good, good man.” Her voice was soft, and if I wasn’t mistaking, a little hurt. “Those are rare.”

“Not as rare as you seem to think.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

I turned to my side so I could look into her face—and not look away. “Your turn.”

“When I close my eyes I see safety. I see a small home surrounded by trees in the mountains where there’s peace. Inside, there’s warmth from a real fire and love from a good man. There’s days where I’ll be snowed in, but I’ll be so warm and so safe—and loved”

Fucking hell, I wanted to give that to her. So simple. So perfect. “And kids?”

“I don’t know if I’d be good at the mom thing.”

“You’d be good at it.”

“You think?” Her eyes were gentle as they searched my face. “Why?”

“Because you’d be safe.”

She gasped, and I saw wet hit her eyes. More than anything, I wanted to pull her into my arms and hold her tight.

I wanted to promise her I’d make her safe now and always.

But Amara wasn’t a girl you rushed, and if I pulled her into my arms now after getting her drunk when I promised I’d keep her safe, she’d think I manipulated her.

I knew it with the kind of certainty that had me glued to my spot on her bed, where I wasn’t touching her.

So I didn’t reach out to touch her, not even to hold her hand. I didn’t pull her small body against mine, where I hoped she’d snuggle in deep and breathe easy. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even move. Hell, I wasn’t even breathing.

Not until she whispered, “Goodnight, Beckett.”

“Night, peanut.”

I did as she asked—I stayed with her until she fell asleep. Only then did I lean in, press my lips to her hair, and use the last bit of strength I had to turn and leave her room.