Stripped Down (17 page)

I licked my lips and nodded again. I couldn’t deny what I was seeing. CiCi didn’t just like him—she pretty much loved him. Although the swimming pool probably had a lot to do with it. Or everything to do with it.

It still didn’t change the fact that I was looking at them together in a way I didn’t want to.
Damn it, Mom
. In fact, I was looking at them in a way I couldn’t, never mind didn’t, want to. Now that I was, though, I could see just how much CiCi liked him. She got that happy grin on her face every time she looked at him, the one she reserved for people she cared about, and it made my heart clench.

Too close. She was getting too attached to him. The very thing I had known would happen, the thing I was most afraid of, was happening, no matter how slowly.

I had to stop it. The inevitable would just break her heart. I never should have let her see him so much.

After tonight, it really did have to stop.

“So that’s Pascal.”

CiCi nodded. “See? He changes colors. Do they do it in real life?”

Beck raised his eyebrows. “Like he does in the movie?” He paused for her nod. “I don’t think so. I think they exaggerated.”

“What’s exa...extra-aggerated?”

He grinned. “Exaggerated. It’s like... Making something... Uh.” He paused and looked at me for help.

Nope. You got yourself into this one.

“It’s like when Mommy cooks you dinner and you only like a little bit, but you tell her you really, really liked it.”

Asshole.

“Ohhh.” CiCi nodded knowingly. “I do that with her lasagna.”

“What’s wrong with my lasagna?” Now, I was insulted. Granted, I wasn’t Nigella Lawson in the kitchen, but neither was I the kind of person Gordon Ramsay would curse into oblivion.

“Mommy, it comes out sloppy!” She turned her big, brown eyes on me while pushing her blond hair out of her eyes. “In the recipe book, it’s all pretty in a square.”

“Yeah, but it’s probably Photoshopped.”

“What’s that?”

Damn it. “They’re exaggerating how pretty it was when it came out of the pan.”

CiCi’s little eyebrows drew together, marring her forehead with a frown. “So, they’re lying?”

“I... Kinda,” I admitted begrudgingly.

“So extra-aggeration is lying.”

“Not exactly.”

She sat bolt upright. “It is, Mommy. If I only like your lasagna a little bit but I tell you I really, really like it, then I’m lying.”

I opened my mouth to argue that, but nope. Nothing came out. Since when was six-year-old logic so damn sharp and irrefutable? I didn’t sign up for this.

“And that’s naughty,” she went on. “Because you tell me not to lie, because if I lie, then my nose is going to grow like Pinocchio’s, and then birds will think it’s a tree and try to make nests on my nose.”

Ah, the irony. Lying about lying. “Well, I don’t think I said that exactly. You said the bird thing.”

“But lying is bad. So, why would Disney lie about Pascal changing colors?”

I was going to kill Beck for having gotten me into this rabbit hole.

Eat your heart out, Alice.

“Because it looks good?” Beck offered. “It would be boring if he didn’t change as much as he does.”

CiCi turned her attention to him and visibly looked as though she were considering his explanation. “But they’re lying.”

“They also have a magic flower that will make you live forever,” he reasoned. “We don’t have magic flowers in real life.”

She looked at him flatly. “Of course we do. Where do you think the fairies live?”

Beck blinked. “The fairies. Right. Of course. Where else would they live?”

“Fairyland. Or in toadstools.”

“Yes, yes.”

Something told me he didn’t know the last thing about fairies. This was going to be fun.

CiCi tucked her feet beneath her butt and turned her entire body to face him, staring at him skeptically. “Don’t you believe in fairies?”

“Well. I, er...” He flicked panicked eyes toward me, but I grinned, biting the edge of my thumbnail. “I guess I’ve never thought about fairies before.”

“Ever?” CiCi’s voice raised a few notches in horror. “Who do you think looks after your baby teeth?”

“The tooth fairy, but it’s been a long time since she visited me.”

“What about Tinker Bell? She’s real. They make movies about her, you know. She’s a celeberity.”

Celeberity. Bless her.

“You know, I think I’ve seen those posters,” Beck said convincingly. “Are they any good?”

CiCi nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve seen every single one.”

She was way too proud of that fact. Mind you, I was kinda proud of it too. Tinker Bell was awesome.

“We should watch one!” Her face lit up for a second before it dropped again. “Oh, I don’t have the DVD.”

“Plus, it’s almost bedtime,” I reminded her. “So we need to go home.”

She looked at me over her shoulder with her face screwed up. “Do we have to? Can’t we stay here again?”

I wavered. No, we really couldn’t, but she looked so hopeful... And I couldn’t even use the excuse that she didn’t have anything with her, because she had her overnight bag from my parents’. Although...

“Mommy doesn’t have anything for overnight.” It wasn’t a lie. I couldn’t use the things I’d packed for work. And I’d stayed in this house enough overnight, thank you very much.

Beck shrugged. “Let’s go get some things.”

I glared at him. “Can we talk for a minute?” I got up before he could answer. “CiCi, stay here and watch TV a minute, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

I stalked into the kitchen and waited for him to follow. I needed him to understand that this wasn’t as simple as just getting things and staying there. There were so many more things that needed to come into consideration.

“What’s the problem?” Beck walked in with his hands held out questioningly on either side of him. “She wants to stay. You can both stay.”

“No, we can’t.” I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.

He slowly dropped his hands and hooked this thumbs through his belt loops. He’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt minutes after we’d walked through the door, and he looked unfairly good. Which made what I was saying super-duper unfair.

“We have to go home tonight and stop spending time together. I know I keep saying it, but this time, I mean it, because the more time we spend together, the more she’s going to like you, and the more it’s going to hurt when we’re no longer bound by that ridiculous mistake we made. She’s getting attached to you, Beck. I can see it, and it’s not good. When this is all over, it’s going to break her heart.”

His indigo-blue eyes blazed back at me, indiscernible emotion swarming in them once again, and my heart stuttered when he took two steps toward me.

“Now, try saying that again and only say it about CiCi.”

“I have no idea what you mean. It is about CiCi.”

“Really? Because I think you’re lying.”

I swallowed and stepped back. “I think you’re crazy. Don’t twist my words to make them more than they are.”

His lips twitched to one side. “I don’t need to. Your eyes do it for you.”

“Again: You’re crazy.” I took another two steps back. “I’m not going to allow her to get any more hurt than she already will be, okay? Respect it.”

“I do respect it,” he said honestly. “I just wish you’d be honest with yourself, Cassie. You’re not just talking about her and you know it.”

“You know nothing about how I feel,” I said sharply. “Don’t pretend you do. You have no idea how I feel.”

“Shit, Cassie, you’re so damn guarded you can’t see past your own fears.”

My jaw dropped. “My own fears? What would you know about my fears, Beck? Nothing. You know nothing. So don’t stand there and tell me you do.”

“I know more than you think. You might be guarded, but I can read you easily. Like right now? I know you’re pushing me away because you’re afraid you’ll both be left hurt and alone.”

The words stung.

Not because they were cruel or catty or mean.

Because they were true.

It was my biggest fear. That, one day, we’d find someone who accepted us and loved us only to leave us.

That, one day, I’d find someone who accepted me and could love me for who and what I was only for them to leave me.

“I want to go home,” I said quietly. “If you won’t take us, I’ll call a cab.”

He sighed and ran his fingers over his forehead. “I’ll take you. Come on.”

I followed him back through the house, grabbed CiCi, who surprisingly came without arguing, and went out to the Range Rover. She climbed into her seat while I got into the front, all without talking to Beck.

In fact, none of us spoke as he took us home. Not a single word. Even CiCi was silent, which was nearly impossible for her to do. As bad as I felt that she clearly sensed the tension, I knew that this was better in the long run.

I had to believe that it was better in the long run, and I did. Cutting this, him, out of her life now before it went too far was the right choice.

So was cutting him out of mine.

Because he hadn’t been entirely wrong when he’d said that part of my fear was myself. It was easy to use CiCi as a shield for the both of us, and she was my primary worry, but I’d have been an even worse liar if I didn’t acknowledge to myself that a part of me was starting to attach itself to Beck.

How could it not? He’d accepted my daughter without question or complaint and genuinely seemed to enjoy her company—question time like the one we just experienced not necessarily included in that.

It was hard not to feel something for a man like that.

He pulled up on the curb outside our little house, and I got out. CiCi had already unstrapped herself when I opened the door for her to get out, and she paused before she did.

Then she leaned between the front seats, gripping the back of Beck’s tight, and kissed his cheek with a tiny smack. “Thank you for watching Rapunzel with me. And for the ice cream.”

Beck turned and lightly patted her cheek. “Thank you too. It was great fun.”

CiCi smiled sadly, almost as if she knew she’d never do that again. Then she leaned right forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. Beck pulled her right through the seats, sat her on his lap, and hugged her tight right back.

I looked away as tears stung my eyes.
This is right. This is the best choice. It never should have even come this far
. I said it over and over in my head until it started to sound like a lie even to my ears.

CiCi jumped out of the front passenger’s seat instead, so I grabbed our things from the back and unlocked the front door.

“Go find some jammies, okay?” I said quietly.

“Okay.” She pulled Cookie from where it was sticking out of her bag and disappeared inside.

I kicked the bags right through the door and went back to the car to get her seat out, but Beck was already there and doing it. I hung back to wait for him to remove it. When he had, I took it from him and put it inside the door.

“Thank you for bringing us home.” I met his gaze as I thanked him.

He closed the back door in answer, his shoulders heaving, and turned back to the car without responding to me.

I deserved that.

I pushed the seat farther through the door and into the hallway fully so I could get in and close the door, but the sensation of being watched stopped me. Slowly, I spun back around and found Beck standing right outside the door, his expression hard.

“Use her as a scapegoat for this all you want,” he said in a low voice. “But it doesn’t change the reality of the situation a single bit. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s not the only one getting attached to somebody they shouldn’t be.”

And that was it.

He went back to his car, got in, and drove off, leaving me standing in my doorway, staring after him.

I took a deep breath.

Screw drinking and driving, kids. Don’t drink and say, “I do.”

It’d been more than twenty-four hours since I’d spoken to Beck. Without having to work, I’d spent the entirety of my Saturday in a funk and being serenaded by various Disney characters. I’d tried to perk up for CiCi, but she wasn’t in the best mood, either.