Chapter 6

6

Sarah

I don't need Beck Ryder's money. I don't want anything to do with fame. If I could undo the last twenty-four hours, I would in a heartbeat.

But I can't .

All of my secrets will probably be exposed one way or another. The question is how soon, and how much good can I do before then.

This isn't about me.

It's about getting the word out about the giraffes. And the honeybees. And the endless list of other endangered animals.

My parents could give me money for donations for the giraffes and playground equipment.

I changed my name to get away from their fame.

But they can't provide a platform.

Next to my parents, I'm that chick who owl bombed her high school prom . Next to Beck, I'm a frumpy cranky science geek that no one will look too closely at.

And even if they do, they might not connect the dots.

He can give me a bigger platform that won't be overshadowed by my past.

He can help me save the world.

I just have to call my parents and ask them to please ignore any videos of me going around the internet, and deny to their friends that it's me.

So, less than twenty-four hours after my respectable social media presence blew up thanks to his idiocy, I'm pointing him to a spindle chair at my second-hand kitchen table while my best friend misses a baseball game to use my phone to record us.

I really need to come clean with Mackenzie.

Soon.

I swear.

Soon .

"You have to sit on my right," I tell him.

"Ah. So we get your good side?" he asks with a flirty grin.

My right side is my good side. My eyes crinkle unevenly when I smile, and I've always thought the right side looks less weird with it, but I point to a heart-shaped mole high on my right cheek, which is probably my most distinctive feature. "Sure."

"Huh. Didn't even notice," he says, and then he pulls his shirt off.

"What are you doing?" I gasp.

"Look." He twists and points to his left shoulder blade, where there's a liver-colored birthmark about the size of a quarter. "I have one too. Mine looks like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle."

"Put your shirt back on." Gah, he's not all that airbrushed in those billboards. Good lord , the man is ripped. I try to tell myself it means he spends a quarter of his day in the gym, or that he has a really good plastic surgeon, and also that it's ridiculously stupid that his easy grin is charming my nipples.

Crap.

Am I wearing a bra? The last thing I need is for the message to get lost behind people noticing that my nipples are straining to watch the underwear model in my kitchen.

Good gravy, I just thought that.

And it's not even the weirdest thought I've ever had, but it's been over a decade since I left home and changed my name, so it's been a while since I've had weird thoughts.

I'd really hoped I'd left that all behind.

Also, if I had to have my body come back to life after the disaster that was Trent Fornicus last year—and yes, he was just as good at it as his name suggests—does it have to happen now ?

For an underwear model?

"Wait," I say.

Beck lifts a brow.

Dammit, even his brows are Hollywood perfection.

He probably manscapes too.

Although, he does have a reasonable amount of chest hair. Not like he's furry, but if he's manscaping, he's not straight-up waxing.

"Wait…for…?" he says.

I shake my head. Get it together, Sarah . "I never show my face, so why is anyone going to believe that I'm @must_love_bees and that you didn't just hire someone to stand here and pretend to be me?"

He glances at Charlie, who gives him a you're on your own, buddy look.

"You can post the video on your account," he says.

"How will people know you didn't hack me?"

"You already tasered me once. Much fun as it was the first time, I'm not going to do anything to prompt that again."

Despite his easy grin about the whole thing, I'm going red. I can feel it.

And I don't do pretty red. It's one of the things my mother always lamented. Oh, Serendipity, I so wish you'd gotten my lovely blush instead of your father's brutish blotches. People will judge you horribly .

"I didn't know it was you ," I start, but Beck waves me off, still grinning.

"Eh. I deserved it. For a lot of reasons."

"You're awful happy for a guy who deserved it."

His grin goes sheepish. "Bad habit. Terrible habit. Being happy, I mean. I'm trying to quit."

Is he—is he flirting with me? "The camera's on, isn't it?" I say.

"Yep, I'm rolling," Mackenzie announces. "Go on. You two are adorable."

I shoot her a what the hell? look.

She grins and gives me a thumbs-up.

I sigh. We can edit this out. "Okay. Let's do this." Before I puke.

Or change my mind and bolt for the Himalayas.

Save the giraffes, Sarah. Be the difference you want to see in the world. Best chance, right here .

"You sure?" Beck asks.

I don't like how he's watching me.

Because there's a lot of concern in those pretty blue eyes of his, and he's doing a damn good job of making me feel like his concern is for me , and not this foundation that I know he's trying to salvage.

I nod anyway, because the world really does need to know that the giraffes are endangered.

Charlie is standing by my kitchen sink, watching. She's given up her phone, but she's taking notes on a pad of paper.

Beck looks at Mackenzie, and his smile actually fades. "Hey, people of the world. Beck Ryder here with a huge apology to pretty much all of you, but mostly to this lovely lady right here. Sarah, also known as @must_love_bees on Twitter."

I force a smile, though now that we're actually recording, I'm definitely going to vomit. "Hi."

Beck angles closer, and the weirdest sensation of warmth floods my chest when he drapes his ape arm over the back of my chair. Like this is going to be okay, even though I know it's completely illogical for his arm to be comforting.

I guess it's like bungee jumping while attached to a bungee jumping instructor.

You know he knows what he's doing, so you're going to survive, even though you also know that there's still a possibility that this will be the time the cord snaps.

"Tell you a story?" Beck asks me.

I lick my lips, because dammit , it's hot in here. "Is it about you?"

His gaze dips to my lips, then back to my eyes, and he grins at me. "My sister would like you. You know she got engaged this week?"

"And you wish her a lifetime of popping out babies and mopping floors and greeting her big strong provider with a baked chicken and a smile every night for the rest of her life?" Oh my god, I sound like a nagging asshole.

"That tweet was in really poor taste, wasn't it?" he says quietly.

"Pretty much," I reply, just as quietly.

"Both my parents worked the whole time I was growing up," he tells me. "Both of them. Together. They own an environmental engineering firm."

"I know. That's why your sister follows me. We're all trying to save the world."

"Except me." His brows furrow for half a second. "You're trying to save the giraffes."

"They're endangered."

"But we see them in zoos all the time."

I heave an exasperated sigh. "Just because you see them in zoos doesn't mean they're not endangered in the wild. Zoos work with conservationists. Pandas were endangered for a long time. But because we knew it, people worked to save them. They're still vulnerable, but we're making progress. No one knows giraffes are endangered though. That's why it's such a big deal that Persephone, the giraffe at the Copper Valley zoo, is having a baby. It's not just about the cute baby giraffe. It's about survival of the species."

"And honeybees?" he asks.

Those are the magic words.

I can talk about honeybees for hours .

Mackenzie's not there. Charlie's not there. I'm just telling the underwear ape how important honeybees are for our food supply and the whole ecological chain of events that matters so much to me.

Completely and totally geeking out.

And if he's not listening, he's still making me feel like he is, nodding along, asking more questions, cracking the occasional joke that's actually funny .

I pause, because I realize I'm rambling, and he smiles at me.

Not a hey, lady, want to see me in my underwear pose? smile, but a friendly, I get it, I'm passionate about things too smile.

"You care," he says.

"Everybody cares about something. What do you care about?"

"My family."

He doesn't even pause, and I don't know if that's because it's the answer he's trained to give, or if he really has kept himself that grounded through the years.

He bends one long arm to scratch his neck, his grin going rueful again. "My mom chewed me out pretty bad this morning," he tells me. "Never too old to get an ass-chewing when you deserve it, you know?"

"If you need more ass-chewing, I have a friend who's really pissed at you too," I offer.

He laughs. "Yeah, I think I met her in the park this morning. She threw a yoga brick at me."

"You might've deserved it."

"I'm pretty lucky that's all she threw. That was an asshole tweet. I shouldn't have even sent it to my sister privately. She works hard. Really hard. You know we almost lost her in a car accident about eighteen months ago?"

I knew Ellie walked with a limp when I moved in next to her a year ago, but I didn't know why. I shake my head.

"She worked her tail off to walk again, to get back to work, and she just finished a project that'll save the city a buttload of money every year in energy costs. And I just model underwear and encourage people to wear comfortable stylish clothes." He shakes his head. "You keep doing you, Sarah. Save your giraffes. World needs more people like you. Give it up, Taser Lady."

He holds out a fist, and even though the last person I fist-bumped was a drunk stranger on the light-rail downtown over a year ago, I bump his fist back.

He grins at me.

And I smile at him, because it's nearly impossible not to.

"Thanks for your time," he says. "You didn't owe me anything. Really appreciate it."

"Sure," I reply. "People say stupid things all the time."

"Is that a wrap?" Mackenzie asks, and I jump.

I almost forgot she was there.

"That's a wrap," Charlie says.

Beck leans back, and I realize he was sitting here with his arm on the back of my chair practically the whole video.

And now I feel weirdly cold.

"As soon as I check my phone, we should have a draft from the lawyer for the agreement," Charlie says. "I'll send it over."

Poof.

Magic all gone.

Now we're back to work.

Which is what that video was.

Work .

Not me sharing my passion with someone who understood. Just work . With someone who has to pay people off enough that his team has a standard agreement that a lawyer just has to modify terms for. On a Saturday night when he should be out doing anything other than work.

"Ohmygod, the game!" Mackenzie squeals.

She darts for the living room with my phone, and a moment later, she's whooping with joy. "We won! WE WON! Two in a row! WE WON!"

"I'll look over everything and get back to you in the morning," I tell Charlie.

Okay, yes, I'm calling my parents' lawyer and swearing her to secrecy, even though I said I wasn't. I'm pretty sure they're not on social media, but their friends will be.

And I'll call them before I post the video too.

I will.

And then I'll tell Mackenzie who I really am.

I swear.

She deserves to hear it from me.

All of this is happening so suddenly though. I'm just not sure I'm ready.

Twelve more hours. Twenty-four, tops.

Beck squeezes my shoulder. "Thanks, Sarah. I really am sorry for dragging you into this."

I ignore the skitters fluttering in my belly and nod to him. "I just hope something good comes of it."

And that my life can go back to normal very, very soon.

He and Charlie reclaim their electronics from my living room and head out, but not before Beck looks back at me one more time, studying me with gravely serious eyes that make my pulse kick up and my breasts tingle before his easy grin comes back. "Thank you. Again."

He looks like he wants to say something else, but Charlie nudges him, and they depart, leaving Mackenzie and me alone again to rewind my DVR and catch up on the game. Meda spies on us from her hidey-hole in the cat tower next to my bookshelves of Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic books, and I act like we didn't just see an underwear model out the door while I try to figure out how to just toss out Hey, Mackenzie, funny story about my childhood and utterly fail.

Yep.

Life's going back to normal.