Her stomach roiled as she thought of all his stuff that she’d had him put in his trunk. Her favorite sweatshirt, belt, T-shirt, ties. The socks, now those she’d miss the most. She felt like she’d just parted with everything good in her life. She’d taken them everywhere she went, all of them. It gave her comfort. Growing up, she’d been abandoned by her parents, who’d taken their trailer and just left her at her grandparent’s doorstep.
Her grandparents had never seen her before until that day.
She remembered feeling extremely anxious as her mother left, and how she’d clutch her scarf, the only thing left of her mother, every day, until Nana threw it away.
Sandy saw the way Beckham protected Calli and she’d wanted him to protect and coddle her, too. She’d watched longingly as he helped her do all the things a good big brother did, drive her places, kill a spider for her, and if anyone would have ever threatened Calli the way they did Sandy, Sandy was sure Beckham would have stepped up for his sister, too.
But she annoyed him. She wasn’t sweet, she was loud and demanding, and when she was hurting, she made her damnedest to hurt back and make sure it hurt even worse.
She’d never stolen anything in her life until the day Nana threw her blanket, and the first thing she’d stolen had been a picture of Beckham Calli had in her dressing table. From then on, the strangest part was that she mostly stole from him.
For the past decade of her life, she’d lived with her cousins in Florida in relative peace, and Glenn had been after her from the beginning. She didn’t have to steal into Glenn’s bed to get noticed. He was the one who kept pursuing her and annoying her until she’d caved.
But Beckham would never cave to someone like Sandy. He had the world at his feet, and who was she? She was a waitress, trying her damnedest to save up and open a small café, and she was a little thief who’d never given him anything but a headache. And okay, a few good orgasms, but she’d bet he got some great ones without having to pay any price for them.
She should be excited that he was taking her out, but instead, she worried it would be like showing a hungry person a feast, letting them take a bite, and then send them back to their paltry lives, where they would always, always know what they would be missing.
When he took her up the tall building of the Winters corporation, of which he was CEO, right to the helipad, Sandy forgot to keep worrying—she was so mind-boggled.
Her legs wobbled when she stood at his side and watched the helicopter approach. Soon, they were boarding it.
It was a big deal.
But it wasn’t a big deal. He was a millionaire. Hello? This was his daily bread and butter. He probably did this regularly and got laid very regularly.
So she bit back the shocked smile on her face and tried not to blink, aware of Beckham watching her with a smile. “Alright? Let’s take a ride. I want you to see the city from up here.”
She did. Boy, she did see the city. Everything looking so tiny, even the big, grand things suddenly seemed not as big, or as grand, from up here. Up here, only the sky seemed grand. And the feeling of Beckham reaching out to squeeze her hand as he grinned at her.
After a very exciting flight, they descended on a clearing in Woodlands—where the city had so much green and lush natural flora that she almost thought she’d been transported to a virgin island out of the country.
“This is gorgeous,” she told him, sounding breathless as they descended the noisy helicopter.
Beckham led her to a little cottage in the middle of what felt like nowhere, and Sandy was sure she had arrived in paradise. She smelled the fresh breeze and could make out the scent of flowers in the air, and especially was aware of Beckham taking her hand in his as he led her inside.
He gave her a tour of the cottage, where she admired the quaint little kitchen, a small cozy living room, and a bedroom with a king bed. Everything was pristine and clean, the furniture very tasteful.
She realized that while she’d been gasping, ooing and aahing over the little cottage, Beckham had been drinking in her reaction with quiet, thoughtful eyes.
When their eyes locked, her heart lurched in reaction and happiness to be here—alone with him. But as they stared, not knowing what he was thinking made Sandy instantly on the defensive, and she struggled to bring up her walls. She pulled her hand free.
“Why are you showing off in front of me? I already know you’re extremely successful, okay?” She laughed at him, but glowered too.
He smiled sardonically, but then frowned at her his usual black frown. “I’m enjoying myself here. I’m enjoying myself with you. I’m enjoying seeing that unguarded smile on your face. The one that comes up when you think I’m not looking at you. Can you cut me some slack, Sandy?”
She scowled and picked at an invisible dust particle on her blouse. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m having such a good time,” she admitted, lifting her gaze to his, unable to find w
ords to tell him she wasn’t used to being happy, that she felt so uncomfortable being happy and feeling so happy in his company that a part of her wanted him to stop making her happy while another wanted him to never, ever, stop.
“I’m having a good time too,” he said, taking a step to raise his hand and cup her cheeks. “There’s fishing nearby. Areas for picnics. Shopping, even. What do you want to do?” he asked.
Sandy wanted to stay in this cottage forever, preferably with Beckham’s clothes on the floor.
Next to her own.
But she was afraid of how much she craved him already, so she relented and admitted she’d love to stay in the cottage and play board games.
That’s exactly what they did. He had a collection of games. They played Monopoly (Beckham won) and Life (Beckham won) and Clue (Sandy won. It was Coronel Mustard, with the Wrench, in the Study.)