Chapter 50
I just didn’t know how to keep him. Or if he wanted to be kept. 3: Beckett
Pisces (February 19—March 20)
As Venus aligns with the visionary Neptune, you may feel like it’s time to shake up your life a little. Find new ways to pick up a hot piece of ass. The personal ads on Craig’s List? Family friends? Maybe your dad or brother has a friend who can bend you over the couch and make you scream?
* * * *
We walked to the car in silence and as I drove toward the Byrne family home, the talkative, smiling Levi was replaced with his old, withdrawn self, and he kept his head turned to look out the side window.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, dying to ask him what was wrong, but unwilling to push him if he didn’t want to talk about it.
“How’s the business?” I asked instead, hoping to coax him out of his funk.
He leaned his head against the neck rest but turned to look at me. Hopefully, that meant his mood wasn’t caused by something I’d done.
“Great,” he said. “Too good maybe.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have to turn away clients. I have too much work.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
He nodded and sat straight. “All the other stuff that comes with running my own business takes up a lot of my time.”
“Like what?”
“You know. The boring stuff. Invoices. Numbers.” He wrinkled his nose as if he’d smelled something foul. “I’d rather perish in the Sarlacc pit than do the numbers.”
“The what?”
He widened his eyes in mock horror and his hand flew to his heart. “Oh, Beckett, aren’t you up to speed on Star Warslore?”
“Hah!” I glanced over at him for a second before turning my attention back to the road. I was happy to see his smile was back, and his eyes shone with mischief. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about Star Wars. Except for ‘Use the force, Luke,’ of course.”
“Beckett, Beckett, Beckett, you don’t know what you’re missing.” He huffed out an exaggerated sigh.
“I’m assuming the Sar-whatever is unpleasant and that you’re trying to say you don’t like accounting.”
“Correct.”
“Why don’t you ask Matt to help you?”
Levi groaned. “Have you heardMatt talk about his job? All he does is whine and complain. The only reason he’s an accountant is that it’s a respectable job approved by the parents.”
“He complained in college, too.” I chuckled. “Once I had to stop him from actually throwing a book out the window in frustration when he was studying for an exam.”
“You’re kidding!”
Shaking my head, I said, “Cross my heart and hope to die,” and followed my words with the gesture that went with it.
“See. That’s why I can’t ask him for help. I don’t want him to be miserable in his free time as well as at work.”
I squeezed the steering wheel. He was so considerate and always put everyone in his family before himself. Even Matt had admitted to it, saying Levi was too nice. I wanted to offer him my services—doing the accounts for a small business like Levi’s wouldn’t take much time—but didn’t want him to feel like I was forcing myself into his life if he didn’t want me there. Sure, we’d had a fabulous few hours together, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see me again without Matt. But before I had time to decide what to do, he changed the subject, and we spent the rest of the trip chitchatting about nothing important.
After about thirty minutes in the car, I pulled into his family’s driveway and stopped behind his father’s large white van.
“I, um, had a lot of fun. Thank you,” I mumbled.
“I did, too. Want to come in?”
I did a double take and stared at him. “I thought no one was allowed in your space? Matt always says he’s certain you’re cooking meth up there since you won’t let anyone in.”
“Meth?” He huffed out a laugh. “He’s crazy.”
“Well…yeah?” I loved how the sound of his laughter filled the cab of my car with happiness and my stomach with warmth.
“I promise I don’t cook meth. And none of the kids are allowed. You, however, are invited.”
“I’m honored. I’d love to come. If only to rub it in Matt’s face.”
We both chuckled as I turned off the engine. I followed him around the back of the garage to the outside staircase leading up to his place.
“Hurry. We don’t want the Hell Sisters to see us.”
“Hey,” I hissed after him. “I thought we weren’t allowed to call them that.”
“Oops, sorry,” he said, but didn’t look sorry at all.