Bet on Me (Bet on Love #2) Page 3

  Oh, my God. I was fixating on Beckett’s hands.

  On his hands.

  There was something wrong with me. Majorly wrong with me.

  “Britte?”

  I snapped my head up and met Beckett’s concerned gaze. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  He had said my name in a way that made me think he had said it more than once.

  “I’m fine.” I shifted in my seat so I could stare at the road.

  He made a sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t push it. “Is the Quirky Cup good for you?”

  “Sure.” Okay, this needed to stop. I needed to pull myself together and not be a complete spaz around Beckett.

  He turned in the direction of the adorable little coffee shop that was only a few blocks from campus and I slid my nervous palms over the tops of my thighs hoping my jeans would absorb the sweat gathered there.

  I had always been unacceptably anxious around Ellie’s brothers. For as down to earth and amazing as my best friend was, her brothers seemed larger than life. They were gorgeous. They were successful. And they had enough testosterone between them to dwindle the entire male supply worldwide.

  But I didn’t have to see Lennox or Grayson very often. They weren’t around as much. And Beckett hadn’t been either for the last few months.

  I thought he’d given up whatever game he wanted to play with me.

  Apparently, I was wrong.

  When he showed up last night, I had lost all ability to think straight or function normally. He did that to me. Which was why I couldn’t let moments like last night keep happening.

  The first and only time Beckett and I kissed had been magical. It had been all fireworks and explosions and potential orgasms. It was also alcohol infused.

  I honestly hadn’t expected Beckett to remember that it was me that crawled up on his lap like the brazen hussy I was.

  Well, the brazen hussy I was just that one time.

  And when he not only remembered, but wanted to talk about it, I had contemplated a quick change of profession. Forget med school when I could join a Disney Cruise and spend the rest of my days dancing around dressed up like Belle.

  Or Snow White.

  Or…damn, were they any other brunette princesses?

  What was up with that?

  “Where are you at, Britte?”

  I turned my head to see that Beckett had parked the car in front of the Quirky Cup and turned off the engine. I blinked at the adorable little, eclectic section of La Crosse, Wisconsin, and let out an elongated sigh.

  “Sorry,” I said sincerely. “I’m lost in my head today.”

  Beckett watched me for long moments. His gray eyes seemed to see more than I wanted him too. They swept over me with intelligence that always surprised me.

  It wasn’t that I thought Beckett was stupid.

  Just more brawn than brain.

  Maybe I was wrong about that, though.

  All at once he was in motion. He stepped out of the driver’s side and hurried around the front again. I jumped into action too, anxious to unbuckle and get out of the car before he could open the door.

  I wasn’t fast enough.

  Or maybe he was too fast.

  “Thank you,” I murmured again when he’d shut the door behind me.

  He flashed a boyish grin that stretched wide across his face and revealed straight, white teeth and a little dimple to the left of his full lips.

  A dimple.

  My heartbeat sped up.

  He just wasn’t playing fair.

  “Do you ever come here?” he asked as we stepped out of the warm August air into the cool air-conditioning of the building. The interior was painted in bright colors, one wall purple from floor to ceiling, another wall in blocks of reds, greens, yellows, and blues. Overstuffed furniture crowded the small space, arranged in intimate groupings meant for couples or solo studiers.

  We squeezed between the abundance of loveseats and cushy chairs on our way to the counter. “Sometimes, to study,” I told him.

  “Me too.”

  “Grad school, right?” I hadn’t had a conversation with Beckett in months, but Ellie always talked about her family. For as much as they drove her crazy, she loved them fiercely. She had this mindset of, “Why wouldn’t you want to know everything my brothers are up to?”

  We paused to order our drinks and Beckett paid. When we moved to stand at the end of the counter, he stepped closer so he could lean against it. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it except for the cocky smile plastered on his handsome face told me he caught me admiring him.

  I stepped back.

  “I’m studying Business Administration,” he explained, his gaze tracking my distance.

  That shocked me, and I couldn’t stop my reaction as my eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Really?”

  His smirk wavered. “You’re surprised?”

  I shook my head, trying to play it off. “I expected something a little less…white collar.”

  He seemed disappointed as his smile faded into a frown. “I’m in grad school, Britte. Not clown college.”

  I smiled at that. “I pictured something more like sports science. You know, big aspirations to be a PE teacher and all that.”

  “Hey now. PE teachers are the foundation of every thirteen-year-old’s journey through puberty. I would never have survived middle school without mine.”

  He was serious. “I do apologize. My middle school PE teacher was a dinosaur that made us play kickball every day.”

  Beckett leaned in with his hand raised to his mouth, “Mine made us play baseball every day.”

  The conspiratorial tone along with the mental image of this man, this gorgeous, fit, muscled, man as anything but what was standing in front of me forced a laugh from me. “Was that where it all started?”

  “Was that where what all started?”

  “The love of the game?”

  His gray eyes twinkled and his dimple deepened. “It is indeed. I finally found something I was good at. It meant something to me.”

  Beckett had been a star baseball player at UW-La Cross for the last four years, right up until he graduated last spring. He’d led the team to countless wins, several regional championships and two years straight to the division three championships. He was in fact, good at it.

  But I couldn’t help but tease him, “You’re telling me you weren’t good at anything until baseball? I find that very hard to believe.”

  “Sure, I was good at everything. But it didn’t matter until I was better at something than Lennox and Grayson. Then my life really began.”

  I laughed again, this time somewhat in disbelief. “What an epiphany for a thirteen-year-old boy.”

  “I can tell you don’t have brothers.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing again.

  The barista appeared and smiled at us, handing us our separate cups. “Chai Tea? Caramel Macchiato, soy, no whip, extra shot?”

  I had been too nervous to pay attention to Beckett’s order. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Chai Tea?”

  He cleared his throat and looked away. “I don’t like coffee.”

  “Well, then we just cannot be friends.” I squeezed between another set of closely grouped chairs and plopped down onto a wide overstuffed chair made from green corduroy.

  Beckett took the navy blue monstrosity next to me. “It all makes sense now.”

  I slid him a sideways glance. “What makes sense?”

  “You’re a snob.”

  “I’m not!”

  He gave my white cup a pointed look. “I don’t even know what you ordered. I think I need a coffee dictionary to figure out what went into that drink. You’re a coffee snob. You look down on those that don’t worship at your coffee god’s feet. I’m sorry I’m different, Britte. But I hope you can find it in your heart to accept me just the way I am.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, despite myself…despite the riot of nerves in my stomach�
��despite my no-Beckett policy…despite his ridiculous sense of humor. He was getting to me. “You are different, but I’m not judging you based on your choice of hot, caffeinated beverages.” Of course, there was a whole slew of other reasons why I had judged him the way I had. But I didn’t need to bring those up now.

  “Yeah, right. I know your type.”

  I couldn’t help but take the bait. This was actually kind of fun. “My type?”

  “Yeah, your type. Beautiful girls that don’t have time for Chai. You probably troll Starbucks for double-shot-espresso-drinking douches. Your perfect guy has yellow, coffee-stained teeth and the shakes.”

  I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from sputtering coffee everywhere. Super classy. Note to self, don’t take a big sip of any beverage when Beckett starts telling jokes.

  I had no choice but to swipe my palm over my chin to catch the little droplets of latte that had escaped my mouth. Once I had finally swallowed everything and was confident I wasn’t going to drool anything else all over my face, my cheeks bloomed with heat.

  God, there couldn’t be anything more embarrassing than spitting coffee up, right?

  At least it hadn’t come out my nose.

  Beckett’s gaze danced with amusement as he watched me clean myself up. I narrowed my eyes and hoped he didn’t notice my face was now the color of a ripe tomato. “Warn me next time you’re going to be funny.”

  He leaned forward and ran his thumb slowly over my chin. A shiver rippled down my spine at his nearness and the sensual feeling of his skin against mine. “You got a little something…” he murmured.

  I pressed my lips together, feeling embarrassment wash over me again. “It’s your fault.”

  His full lips split into a big grin. “I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  I leaned in, unable to resist his charm, his absolute allure. But before I could speak I was interrupted by reason and logic and the universe warning me away from Beckett with bright neon signs.

  Er, what I meant was, a girl approached. A gorgeous, skinny, perfect-haired fangirl.

  “Beckett, I didn’t know you were back!” she squealed with an excessive amount of enthusiasm.

  Beckett’s attention was ripped from me as he swept the cluttered coffee shop space for the source of the psychotic sound. “Oh, hey,” he finished with a mumbled sound I couldn’t make out.

  I realized he didn’t know her name.

  The girl didn’t notice Beckett’s garbled greeting. She hopped closer and leaned over the arm of his chair as if I didn’t exist. “When did you get back?” Her voice dropped low and husky, “I thought you were going to call me…”

  Beckett had the grace to look embarrassed. His eyes slid to mine before they darted back to mystery girl. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I just got back. Yesterday.”

  It was the girl’s turn to look at me and when she did I felt the ice radiating off her in what felt like sheets of stabbing drizzle hitting me directly in the face. I sighed and struggled not to roll my eyes. If this girl was sizing up her competition, she needed to know that I wasn’t competition.

  She could have Beckett.

  For the entire one night, he could keep his attention on her.

  This had been a bad idea. Arguably one of my worst. Even ‘just coffee.’

  An aching feeling settled in my chest, hollow and disappointed. There were not words to accurately describe the torrent of emotions that tugged at my heart, forcing a feeling of lonely desperation that I didn’t usually acknowledge.

  The bells jingled over the front door, and a group of girls wandered into the Quirky Cup, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Their eyes scanned the couches in a synchronized motion that made them look Stepford-ish. Their hive-like minds synchronized and tagged Beckett at the same time and they called out to him across the room.

  A small sense of satisfaction sliced through me when Beckett’s eyes widened at the sight of them swarming over to him. I noticed a deep look of embarrassment settled on his features, tingeing his tanned cheeks a deep red. He also looked frightened.

  Good.

  It was more than I should hope for, but I hoped this was torturous for him.

  I stealthily picked my purse up off the ground and slipped from my chair, avoiding the gaggle of girls hovering over Beckett, pinning him in place.

  What had I been thinking?

  I hadn’t been. That was the problem. Beckett did that to me. He robbed me of my intellect, the one thing I relied so heavily upon. He turned my brain to mushy hormones.

  And mushy hormones were not to be trusted. They couldn’t be counted on to think rationally or make logical decisions. They said yes to coffee when they should be saying hell no while running in the opposite direction.

  So now, instead of enjoying my Sunday afternoon and getting a head start in the too many credit classes I stupidly signed up for this semester, I had to live with this throbbing feeling in my chest and try to forget how good it had been before Beckett’s fan club had shown up.

  Beckett wasn’t even an undergrad anymore. He didn’t play baseball. He didn’t live in the dorms. And he still had girls drooling over him.

  I knew, I just knew that was how it would always be for him. I wasn’t the only one drawn to him. I wasn’t the only one that looked at him and couldn’t turn away.

  I was just the only one stupid enough to believe, even if it had been for the shortest second of my life, that I could be different.

  That I wasn’t the only one looking at him. That maybe he was looking at me too and finding it just as hard to look away.

  Stupid, Britte. So. Stupid.

  I pushed through the glass door and stepped into the hot August afternoon once again. I turned toward campus and settled in for the walk. It would take me twenty minutes or so, but I’d made the trip lots of times before.

  A warm hand wrapped around mine seconds after I’d cleared the door. “Where are you going? Are you okay?”

  I turned around and tried to hide the irritating emotion I felt brimming in my eyes. I stared at where he touched me, not feeling the tingly warmth that usually buzzed through me. This time, I only felt cold regret. “Home,” I mumbled.

  I felt his confusion in the way his body tensed, but I refused to meet his eyes. “We just got here.”

  “And so did your fan club. You won’t even notice I’m gone.” I lifted my gaze and courageously met his. “I promise.”

  “Britte—”

  I tugged my arm from his hold and held my hand up. “Seriously, Beckett, stop. Go back to your harem. I’m good.”

  His jaw clenched, and his fists curled at his sides. “That’s not fair. I didn’t know they were going to show up.”

  My tongue lashed out before I could temper my anger. “That’s the point, though, isn’t it? They’re everywhere. All over this city. Listen, don’t waste your time with me, when you have a whole gaggle of females dying for your attention inside.”

  To his credit, he didn’t even turn around to look at them, “At least let me give you a ride home.”

  “I’d rather walk.”

  “Now you’re just being stubborn.”

  I lifted my chin and then hated that it proved his point. Even though I knew the difference. This wasn’t stubbornness. This was self-preservation. “It’s fine. Really.”

  “It’s not. Get in the damn car.” He held up his keys and unlocked his needlessly expensive car from across the lot.

  I looked at the sky, hoping for another option to drop in my lap. Why didn’t I have a harem that followed me around? Why wasn’t there a bevy of boys for me to ask for a ride from instead of enduring the ensuing extreme awkwardness with Beckett?

  “Fine,” I relented through gritted teeth. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t say anything. He just turned and stalked to his car. I followed after him, my stomach tight with knots.

  The car ride back to my apartment was everythin
g I knew it would be. Painfully uncomfortable, and aggressively tense. Neither of us spoke except for my final “thank you” when he pulled up in front of my building.

  Even still, he waited for me to get inside where I pathetically hid around the side of the lobby and watched him pull away out of the corner of the window.

  It was nice of him to take me home instead of abandoning me to the orgy that waited for him at the Quirky Cup. Nice, but it didn’t change anything.

  Last spring, I had known Beckett was a mistake, and I had eventually convinced him of that too. I didn’t know why he came back to campus just to torture me, but my mind hadn’t changed.

  It didn’t matter that Beckett made me laugh. Or that when his gray eyes settled on me, my heart raced, and my pulse jumped.

  It didn’t matter that Beckett excited me in a way that no other person ever had before.

  It didn’t.

  Not even a little bit.

  Because as funny as Beckett could be, and as sexy and protective and dominating and just completely being him…he was…the bottom line was, he wasn’t interested in me. He didn’t care.

  I had a crush on him. A crush that could turn into something so much more if I gave it even a little bit of room.

  And all he wanted was to get laid.

  Well, he had an entire fan club for that.

  He wouldn’t even notice I was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Beckett

  She left me.

  She left me alone in the goddamn coffee shop surrounded by females I didn’t even know.

  Or she tried to.

  I hadn’t even realized what she was doing until it had almost been too late. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Britte would storm out in the middle of our date just because a few random females interrupted us. If she had given me three more minutes, I would have gotten rid of them.

  But she didn’t. She just left.

  She wouldn’t have even turned around had I not run after her.