Sweetheart by Sarah Mayberry

Author:Sarah Mayberry [Mayberry, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heart Eyes Press LLC

24

Haley

I was so eager to get to Beck’s place I arrived ten minutes early and had to do a slow drive around the streets of Montpelier to kill time. I engaged in a mental pep talk as I drove, encouraging myself to play it cool and enjoy the moment for what it was without getting too caught up in what might happen next.

I had, of course, already spent a large portion of my day fretting about that, because when the worry hamster in my brain started running on its wheel, it liked to go for it.

I really, really, really liked Beck. A lot. All signs seemed to indicate he felt the same way about me—although, to be fair, he might just be very engaged by the hot sex we kept having.

If my gut was right, if he was as taken with me as I was with him, then at some point we were going to run headfirst into the problem of my sister. I’d already very cleverly established that bringing up her name was a complete vibe killer, but just because I wasn’t game to talk about her, didn’t mean the problem of Jess was going to disappear. She was my sister. She would always be a part of my life; there was no avoiding that.

Beck clearly had baggage with her. The size of the baggage was a mystery to me, and I wasn’t sure how to address it or my sister in general because of how weird I’d made it last time.

There were so many unknowns, I felt like I was playing blind-man’s bluff, fumbling around with no idea of what obstacles might lie in my way.

My gaze caught on the clock on city hall, and I realized I’d gotten so lost in the maze of my thoughts that I was now running late. Muttering under my breath, I headed for Beck’s place. I parked beside his van in the driveway and made my way to the front entrance, a bottle of wine cold in my hand.

I knocked and ten seconds later Beck opened the door. He looked so good standing there in the frame of the doorway, all big and burly and blond, I lost the power of speech for a moment.

“Hey. Come in,” he said, gesturing for me to step over the threshold.

I followed him inside, still drinking in the sight of him. He was wearing a blue and black plaid shirt and soft-looking, worn jeans with a pair of very dark brown boots. His cheeks were a little stubbly, as though he’d forgotten to shave that morning, and his hair was still wet from the shower.

In short, he looked utterly, overwhelmingly hot and the vocabulary center of my brain was so discombobulated I still couldn’t find any words. I settled for thrusting the bottle of wine at him like a complete rube.

“Thanks,” he said, shooting me a surprised look.

“It’s wine,” I said.

“It is.” His mouth twitched a little, and I knew he was trying not to laugh at me.

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