Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology 2)

Becker stands, too, placing his palms on the desk and leaning across. I regard him with interest, loving the serious edge his stare takes on. A small cock of his head tells me to go to him, and I mirror his pose, leaning into him. Reaching forward with his lips, he plants a gentle kiss on my mouth. I breathe in, like I could inhale him into me.

‘Thank you,’ he says, his soft flesh vibrating against mine. ‘Thank you for . . .’ he tails off, searching my eyes.

‘Listening?’

He nods, grateful for my prompt, even if it’s not exactly what he was trying to say. His gratitude is more because I’m still here. Because I haven’t run away after learning so much. He has nothing to fear. I’m staying. Love makes you do the craziest things, and you don’t get crazier than this.

Becker pulls away, leaving me suspended over his desk in a daze. ‘You may go.’

My trance is soon broken when the clean crunch of him biting into an apple yanks me from my happy place, dumping me right into another one of my happy places. I smile as I push myself off the desk, walking backwards with my eyes travelling back and forth to Becker’s mouth with the apple.

He picks up the phone and dials before holding it to his ear. ‘Percy. There’s a vintage car auction coming up,’ he says down the line. ‘I need all the specifics.’

I leave Becker and his lucky apple to it and make my way to the kitchen.Chapter 10The nerves are back with a vengeance when I tentatively push my way through the door of the kitchen. So Becker tells me they know I’m sleeping in his bed? Yes, they know that, but what Becker failed to mention was how they took the news.

Woof!

I only just locate Winston in time to prepare myself for his pounce. ‘Hey, boy!’ I laugh, stumbling back when he launches his chunky front paws at my thighs. He’s panting happily, his tail wagging so fast it’s a blur. I give him all the fuss he wants, my feeble side centring my attention on someone – or something – who I know is pleased to see me, rather than face two people who I’m not so sure about. ‘Glad to see me?’ I ask, ruffling his ears.

He starts sniffing me, his body suddenly stilling. I fear the worst and freeze along with him. I haven’t forgotten Becker’s dog’s aloofness when he caught a whiff of me after Becker had his way. Winston snorts a few times, getting a good hit of my scent. Then he looks up at me, and I wait patiently for Becker’s cheeky British bulldog to decide whether or not he and I are on speaking terms. The relief that courses through me when he resumes excited shakes is really rather silly. The fact that I’m here has clearly overshadowed the fact that Becker’s had his hands all over me.

I drop to my knees and let the big ball of muscle trample all over my lap, his wagging arse making him all unstable as he tries to sit down. ‘Pleased to see you, too, boy.’ I bury my nose on top of his head and inhale the comforting mild doggy smell.

Winston and I are in a world of our own, thrilled to be reunited . . . until the sound of a cupboard door closing echoes around the kitchen. That door was closed on purpose. Loudly on purpose.

I cringe as I peek up over Winston’s head, enduring his weight on my lap like it can protect me from their disapproval. Mrs Potts is standing by the pantry door, her hand still on the handle, and Mr H is at the table, a spoon halfway to his mouth. ‘Morning,’ I squeak meekly, smiling nervously. Both are quiet and both are still, to the point it becomes uncomfortable, and I start mentally begging for one of them to at least say something. Anything. Warn me, I don’t care.

‘He’s missed you,’ Mrs Potts says, nodding to Winston on my lap, prompting me to look down, too. ‘And so have we.’ My head flicks up, shocked. Mrs Potts smiles and opens up her arms to me. ‘Come here, princess.’

I laugh, but I could quite easily cry. The weight of the world feels like it’s just lifted from my shoulders. I coax Winston off my lap, and he grumbles his protest, but I ignore him and straighten up, brushing down the front of my dress.

‘Come on then.’ She gestures with impatient hands, and I kick my feet into action, taking myself to her. I’m a little overwhelmed by the fierceness she injects into her hug, squeezing me tightly. ‘I want you to do something for me,’ she whispers, tightening her crush so I can’t retract. I remain trapped in the old lady’s round body, waiting for her to continue, dreading it, too. ‘Handle him with care, Eleanor,’ she says quietly in my ear. The pressure of her request hits me like a kettlebell in the face. These feelings are all pretty new to me, too. Alien, scary and overwhelming. I feel captured by a strange mixture of happiness and trepidation. I can only imagine how Becker must be feeling.