3. Bea

3

BEA

I 'm startled awake by a muffled droning sound that becomes clearer as I slowly sit up in bed. It's not so much a droning sound as it is a buzz-buzz-whirrr. I look to the left and the right, thinking there might be a wasp or hornet buzzing by my head. The fear of being stabbed and poisoned by either of these insects has me leaping out of bed in an instant.

Grabbing my pillow for a makeshift shield, I hunch down and place it over my head as I half crawl, half hop across the room to the door. It's only once I'm out in the hallway that I realize the source of the mysterious sound.

Someone is drilling outside nearby. What the hell? Can I go more than twelve hours without someone unexpectedly showing up?

I wrap my left hand around my phone, clutching it tightly in case I need to call the cops. Slowly making my way downstairs, I get a better picture of what is going on. Someone is working on the front door. As soon as it comes into view, I notice the door is brand new and attached at all the right places. It looks downright safe, which is something the previous door was sorely lacking.

But who would do that? I didn't ask anyone for anything. I haven't even been in town for a full twenty-four hours yet. I was going to spend today combing through local websites and finding all the service options I have for the myriad of problems I know I'm going to discover.

The only other living soul I've talked to other than the concerned cabbie driver is… Beck.

My heart kicks against my ribcage as heat crawls up my neck and face, making me flushed and overheated. I'm not sure if I'm all worked up because this is the second time he's shown up without warning or my permission, for that matter, or… I couldn't possibly be having such a physical reaction to him because I want to know what his lips taste like and how it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong, toned arms, cradled against his sculpted chest while he holds me and comforts me.

Oh, Lordy. I'm in trouble.

I walk past a decorative table and grab a candlestick covered in cobwebs, just in case I need to defend myself. Again. This isn't exactly how I envisioned my first day in Winifred.

Taking one last deep, fortifying breath, I grip the doorknob and rip the door open, jumping back as Beck tumbles inside. I'm too shocked to react at first, too enamored by the sweat glistening off his shirtless chest to say anything. Beck doesn't seem to have the same problem.

"Mornin', beautiful," he says with a grin. Beck looks from me to the candlestick in my hand, then back at me, his sparkling blue eyes making it hard to breathe when they're trained right on me. "I see you've upgraded your weaponry. Miss Owner of the House, in the entryway, with the candlestick," he teases, insinuating this is all a game of Clue.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, scraping the bottom of the barrel for a sarcastic remark or a comeback that will shut him up. I've got nothing. How can I concentrate when he's smiling at me like that? It goes deeper than his soft lips and straight, white teeth. Beck smiles with his whole face, a few lines forming at the corners of his eyes indicating he smiles and laughs a lot. Those blue eyes shine with such genuine joy, that it's hard not to reciprocate his smile.

But I can't. I control myself, barely. "What exactly are you doing here?" I ask, keeping my eyes trained on him and my voice steady. "For the second day in a row, might I add."

Beck jumps up to his feet, wiping off the dust on his jeans. "Your door was a piece of shit."

"Gee, thanks," I say flatly.

Beck chuckles, the sound rich and warm as it rolls through me. "Through no fault of your own, of course. But that door wasn't going to protect you. It couldn't keep unwanted people out."

"Clearly," I say under my breath. I'm afraid I offended him for a second, but then Beck gives me another signature smile, followed by a wink. That's not even fair.

He can't be ripped, kind, funny, have beautiful eyes, and an incredible smile. Life has taught me that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. I just need to find out who the real Beck is. I'm sure he'll show me a side of himself that will send me running.

The mysterious and ridiculously sexy man holds out his hand, much like he did yesterday. I have no intention of shaking it, yet I find myself setting down the heavier-than-expected candlestick and lifting my hand toward his.

As soon as our skin touches, Beck wraps his fingers around mine, engulfing my smaller hand in his much larger one. "Let's try this again," he says, his voice lower than before. "I'm Beck. The town carpenter. I had no idea anyone was in the old Leavenworth home when I walked in yesterday. I simply love fixing up places that have been neglected or mishandled. I enjoy seeing the progress and knowing I helped restore dignity and beauty to something that was once overlooked."

Holy shit, are we talking about houses or me at this point? How does he know everything I want to hear?

I realize I've just been staring at him with my big dopey eyes. He probably regrets coming over here in the first place.

"Bea. I am. Beatrix, actually." I wince at how awkward I am. I suppose there's no hiding that I haven't had a lot of conversations with people in general, let alone this Greek god of a man.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you, Bea," he says, shaking my hand slowly. The way he says it makes it sound like he's been waiting for me his whole life, but that can't be right.

The moment becomes too much and I slip my hand from his so I can cross my arms over my chest. Beck's eyes follow the motion, then pause on my breasts before he finally looks up at the ceiling and clears his throat.

I realize all too late that I jumped out of bed in nothing more than my tiny sleep shorts with cute clouds on them and an old tank top that's a few sizes too small. Oh my god , I repeat over and over in my head. For having zero experience with men, I've now flaunted my flabby body in front of this ripped, gorgeous man twice.

"So, the door," he starts, clearly wanting to change the subject. I'm sure he's uncomfortable with how I look and all the skin I'm showing. Usually, I cover my curves in a few layers of clothes.

"Yes, the door," I repeat, thankful for something else to talk about.

Beck walks out onto the porch, leaving me just inside the entryway. "Now, it's only temporary. I'll have to replace the frame, work on the siding, and gut this entire porch. But it's certainly better than the piece of cardboard and rusted nails you had here yesterday."

I blink a few times, trying to catch up with what he's saying. "I, uh I didn't ask you to do this," I say, my voice not as confident as I would like.

Anxiety pushes to the surface, trudging up things from the past I thought I had buried long ago. Worst-case scenarios play over and over in my mind until I can't contain them anymore and they all come spilling out.

"How do I know you installed it the right way and aren't just going to remove the door from its hinges and sneak in at night? Or what if you made ten copies of the key so you can come and go whenever you want? What else have you done to my house? What if–"

"Breathe for me, sweetheart," Beck says in a soothing voice.

In my stubbornness, I double down on my rant, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me breathe at his command.

"What if you had security cameras installed? Or switched out the locks in my room and are planning to keep me trapped there while you ransack my home? You… you could…"

I finally run out of air, growing a bit dizzy as I gasp for breath. Beck places his hand on my shoulder, keeping me steady. Normally, I don't like to be touched. I have a pretty big bubble of personal space. After a lifetime of human contact bringing nothing but pain, I guess I got used to avoiding any kind of physical touch or intimacy. I'd be lying if I said Beck's touch didn't calm me down. I feel safe, warm, and protected while he's close. That won't last forever, though. I've seen how things like this play out.

"I'm so sorry for whatever happened in your life to make you wary of every good deed." Beck strokes the pad of his thumb against the side of my neck, sending flutters and spikes of heat ricocheting through my veins and nerve endings. "I saw your door was busted and I didn't like how easy it was for me to wander inside. I had all the tools, parts, and an extra door lying around because I'm a carpenter and this is my skill set. That's all. Nothing nefarious. Nothing conspiratorial. Just taking care of a neighbor because that's what we do here in Winifred. We take care of our own."

Our own? Does that mean… I'm in that group of people? I belong here?

I can't pull my eyes away from his, wanting to believe his words and yet not knowing if that will ever be true for me. Stupid tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Beck doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. His crystal blue eyes peer right down into my damn soul. It's like he's rearranging all the broken pieces and making room for himself so he can start fixing me the same way he wants to fix up this house.

I'm the one to break eye contact first, taking a step back and partially closing the door so I can hide my nearly-naked body behind it while still poking my head out to talk to Beck.

"So, what about the locks?" I ask, hanging on to the one protest he didn't address earlier. I'm trying to be strong and assertive, but I'm about to break down and confess that I'm in way over my head and I feel like a lost little kid who should know more about the real world by now.

"I have the number of the town locksmith. As soon as I'm done here, he'll stop by with a few of his workers and replace the locks, making sure you have the only copies of the key." I nod, satisfied with his answer. "Of course, once the structural work is complete, we'll install a security system that uses your fingerprint to operate. It will detect anything within the property line."

"Of all the things I didn't ask you for, that is at the top of the list," I respond, holding my chin up high. "Besides, I thought everyone looked out for each other in Winifred. Why would I need such a fancy security system if this town is so friendly?" I lift an eyebrow and give the ridiculously sexy man a smirk, knowing I won this round.

Beck doesn't miss a beat. His face grows serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "It would help me sleep at night knowing you're as safe and protected as possible."

Well, shit. I wasn't expecting that answer. I want to believe him. My heart is tripping all over itself at his words and at the possibility that he cares about me enough to lose sleep over my safety.

However, I don't really know Beck. Maybe he's being nice because I'm the shiny new toy in town and he's already been through everyone else. Maybe he's playing some long-con to get me to move out of the house so he can take it for himself. There are hundreds of reasons this man is being nice to me, and I'd believe every single one of them before letting my emotions get the best of me.

I open my mouth to respond, then close it again, sucking on my lips before trying once more to think of a comeback. "Maybe the town needs protection from me, did you ever think about that?"

Beck holds back his laugh, but I see the spark in his eyes all the same. It was a dumb thing to say, but this man has me all twisted up. "I have no doubt you're going to leave your mark here," he replies all too easily. Such a smooth talker. Another reason not to trust him.

"How about you let me know what I owe you for the door and your time? Then you can be on your way."

His eyebrows lift up to his hairline, but that obnoxiously sexy and charming smile is still spread across his face. "I like a woman who knows what she wants," he says. "No charge for the door. It was the neighborly thing to do."

"We're neighbors?!"

"I don't live next door or anything," he assures me. "But everything is about a five-minute walk away in Winifred. In a way, we're all neighbors."

"That's not creepy and cult-like at all," I say under my breath.

Beck laughs, and once again, I'm swept away by the sound. It's contagious. How can anyone hear his deep, melodic laugh and not want to join in?

Instead of giving him the satisfaction, I slam the door in his face. I know, very mature of me.

"You can thank me later for giving you a door strong enough to slam!" Beck shouts through the closed door.

I allow myself exactly one smile as I lean my back against the cool surface of the door, and only because I know he can't see it. What am I going to do with Beck? He's already wiggled his way under my skin. I have a feeling he's coming for my heart next.