Dirty Ginger by Stacey Kennedy

5

Beckett couldn’t fight the smile on his face, even if he and Amelia had been interrupted. He’d waited years to touch her again. When she’d kissed him, he’d been so shocked it had taken him a moment to catch up. But one look into her pretty eyes filled with desire, albeit mixed with confusion, and he was a goner. Yeah, this would happen on her terms, but he was one hundred percent there for whatever she wanted from him, whenever she wanted him, until he could win her heart back and keep her at his side forever.

Not wanting to make Amelia any more uncomfortable than she already looked at her sisters’ arrival, he’d left to give her space and avoid an awkward conversation he was certain she did not want to have with him there. Later, he’d finish what they started today, and ensure she felt good about it all, but that wasn’t going to happen with her hovering sisters.

When he reached his truck, Clara called from behind him, “Hold up, Beckett.” He sighed. On good days, Clara was tough and had sharp claws. Beckett doubted Clara would consider this a good day. Against his better judgement, he turned to her. “Hello, Clara.”

She stopped in front of her, her face scrunched. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He stared into Clara’s hard blue eyes, knowing her fierceness came from a deep love for Amelia. They’d always been incredibly close. But he didn’t owe her jack shit. “I know you’re worried about your sister, and rightly so, but what happens with Amelia is between us.”

Clara’s eyes slowly narrowed. “You do realize she just had her heart broken, right?”

“Yes, I’m well aware.”

She lifted her chin, crossing her arms. “You also realize that you once obliterated her heart too, right?”

His chest felt the hit, and he deserved the blow. “I’ve never forgotten what I’ve done to her.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Her nostrils flared as she closed in on him, pointing at his face. “Do not hurt her, Beckett. I’ll kill you myself if you do.”

Beckett wouldn’t put it past her, either. And he knew the Carter sisters were smart enough to get away with murder too.

“Stop it,” Amelia snapped.

Clara whirled around to her sister and gasped, “Amelia—”

“Just stop,” Amelia said, softer now. Her gaze flicked at Beckett’s, steady and strong. “Come back after work, okay?”

“I’ll be here.” He slid his gaze to Clara again. Her breathing was heavy, her teeth nearly bared. Not in all the years he’d known this family had he ever seen her so mad, but he wouldn’t apologize for kissing Amelia today. And he wouldn’t apologize for kissing her later when he came back if she wanted that too.

A second later, he was back in his truck, spotting all three sisters watching him as he drove out of the driveway. He whistled to himself, knowing he might very well be a dead man walking. Yet death was worth it. For years he’d waited to have Amelia again. To taste her. To smell that vanilla scent she carried. Now that he had it all again, he only wanted more, and so did his hard cock. But he wasn’t foolish enough to know that he walked on emotional territory here. Two weeks ago, she had planned to marry someone else, but deep down, he’d hoped she realized that wedding didn’t happen because she was meant for Beckett, not that prick. As the truck hit a pothole in the road, Beckett realized that first, he needed to gain her trust and her friendship again to let her heart reopen to him, and if she wanted to kiss him while that happened, he’d never stop her.

Determined to get his day moving ahead, he slowed at a stop sign and quickly dialed Dr. Alan. The receptionist, Shelby, answered on the second ring. “Hey, this is Beckett. Is Dr. Alan around our area today? I need a horse looked over before we get into training.”

“Hi, Beckett,” she said, her voice bubbly. “Dr. Alan is actually just leaving the Blackshaw Guest Ranch now. Want me to send him your way?”

“Please do,” Beckett said. “Thanks, Shelby.”

“No problem. Bye.”

The phone call ended, and the country music radio station sprang to life through his speakers. Beckett rolled down his window, letting the air cool his overheated flesh. His thoughts desperately wanted to return to Amelia’s sweet and ripe body, but he forced himself to think of the mare and her challenges.

When he reached the farm, it pleased him to see the vet driving up the driveway behind him. Beckett parked next to the paddock where Autumn lived for now. Eventually she’d go out in a small herd. Dr. Alan, with the River Rock Veterinary Clinic logo on the side of his van, parked next to him.

“Hey,” Beckett said when he reached Dr. Alan and his assistant at the hood of their van.

“What do you have for me today?” Dr. Alan asked. He was an astute man, in his late seventies, a face full of wrinkles and wisdom.

“This girl here,” Beckett said, moving to the gate. He grabbed the halter and lead, and Autumn didn’t put up a fuss when he slid the halter over her head.

“Seems well-mannered on the ground,” Dr. Alan said, studying the mare. “What’s the problem exactly?”

Most horses that came through the farm had bad attitudes. The worst of the worst. And Dr. Alan was well aware of that fact. “She’s pure sugar until someone gets on her back, then she’s all sour.”

Dr. Alan chuckled before his expression fell, becoming serious again. Like it did every time he came to give his advice on a horse. Beckett held the lead chank but stayed out of the way as Dr. Alan ran through his examination, alongside his assistant.

By the time Dr. Alan finished, the mare’s ears were pinned back, obviously sick of the flexion tests and all the other poking and prodding she went through. “She’s got some back pain, which I suspect might be from an ill-fitting saddle.” He rubbed at her withers where white hair was located on the right side, indicating trauma where the saddle fit. “Other than that, I’m not seeing anything medically wrong which would be causing her behavior.”

“All clear to work then?” Beckett asked.

Dr. Alan nodded. “Yes, I’m good with that recommendation.”

“Great,” Beckett said. “Thanks for coming out.”

“Always a pleasure,” Dr. Alan said, before heading back to his van.

Beckett turned his attention to Autumn and gave her face a caress. “No excuses now sweetheart. We’ll get the saddle right and get you going.”

The horse snorted, pushing off his hand from her face.

“Not that easy, huh?” Beckett chuckled, removing the halter and letting the horse back out to graze to give her a break before he started to work with her.

As he walked back to the gate, tires crunching against gravel lifted his attention to the driveway. Sullivan drove up in his truck. Sullivan might be Beckett’s other closest buddy, but he was also Clara’s husband. Beckett shouldn’t have been surprised that Clara sent Sullivan his way.

“She’s gorgeous,” Sullivan said the moment he got out of the truck. Sullivan spent his teenage summers working for the Blackshaw ranch. Now he was a professional baseball player who signed with the Red Sox. He and Clara lived in River Rock for as much time as they could with their son, Mason, but during the summers they lived in Boston and came back to River Rock whenever Sullivan had time off from training or games, even if they only stayed a couple days.

Beckett closed the gate behind him. “She might be gorgeous, but she’s dirty.”

Sullivan smiled, leaning against the fence. “Sounds like fun.”

“Should be interesting.” Beckett sidled next to him, resting his arms against the top railing. “I’m guessing you’re not here to talk about the horse.”

Sullivan gave a dry laugh, glancing sidelong at him. “Clara suggested that I come and see you and have a chat, so I’m here to say I’ve been here and talked with you.”

Beckett chuckled, looking back at the mare who ate grass but kept an eye on him. “I haven’t seen her that pissed in my life.” Clara was a force. One he didn’t want coming after him.

“Pissed might be an understatement, my friend,” Sullivan said with a sly smile before that smile fell. “She’s worried about Amelia. That’s all.”

“I can appreciate that,” Beckett said. “In all fairness, I questioned her sanity too when she grabbed me and kissed the hell out of me.”

Sullivan cocked his head. “Oh, yeah?”

Hayes and Sullivan were more than friends, they were Beckett’s family. No secrets came between them. “I’m not gonna say I didn’t hesitate, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to stop her.”

Sullivan hesitated. “Tell me if I’m stepping in it and you want me out of it, but is this particularly wise?”

“Probably not,” Beckett replied honestly. “But I’ve done the quiet thing. I stayed silent when she went off to college, so she could chase her dreams. I stayed silent when she came back with that prick. I even stayed quiet when she was going to marry him. I’m done sitting back doing nothing. I want her, Sullivan. Just her. If she wants me back, then that’s the greatest thing to ever happen to me.”

Softness reached Sullivan’s expression as he cupped Beckett’s shoulder. “Then don’t let anything stand in your way, brother.” He gave a sly smile. “Not even two overprotective and loud sisters.”

* * *

After Beckett’struck disappeared down the driveway, Amelia trotted up the porch steps, feeling her sisters hot on her heels, confusion swirling in her head. The last thing she thought of doing this morning was kissing Beckett. Considering she was dumped at the altar two weeks ago, the last thing Amelia should be thinking about is kissing anyone. Especially Beckett, a man she had history with, and yet, she couldn’t find any regret anywhere within her. And that was confusing.

“What in the holy hell was that?” Clara asked, following Amelia into the house. The door slammed closed behind them.

“I really don’t think I need to explain it,” Amelia replied, moving straight to the liquor cabinet next to the pantry. She took out a shot glass and the whiskey, downing the shot immediately to ease the trembling in her insides. Residual adrenaline from the rush of being with Beckett. Was this what happened when a woman had a complete mental breakdown?

“I’d also like to hear you try to explain what we walked in on.” Maisie laughed, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“This isn’t funny, Maisie,” Clara snapped.

“Oh, please, it’s a little funny,” Maisie countered. “Besides, they both looked happy. What is so wrong with that?”

Amelia glanced over her shoulder at her little sister and threw her a grateful smile. The whiskey burned down her throat, and she considered having another shot to kill the remaining quivers in her belly that only had a little to do with shock, but she had a lot of work to do today, so she sealed up the bottle. She repeated what Clara had asked over and over again in her mind: What in the holy hell was that? Even Amelia had no idea. She’d never acted so boldly or so out of character.

Feeling more stable, she sighed, glancing back at her sisters. “You’re worried about me. I get it, but I’m fine.”

“How can you be fine?” Clara asked, arms folded over her chest, looking much like a scolding mother in her dress pants, frilly pink blouse and gorgeous black heels.

“Easy,” Amelia replied. “It turns out two weeks in the tropics and a whole lot of fun can do wonders for a broken heart.”

“I sure bet it does,” Maisie said with a grin.

Clara still grimaced. “Amelia—”

“Clara, please just stop.” Her voice came out harsher than she intended. She closed in on her older sister, her very best friend. “I’m only going to say this once, so please hear me. I don’t need you to meddle in this. I’m not even sure what happened between me and Beckett, but he is, and always has been, a good guy. For some reason, today I grabbed him and kissed him. I started this. So, please let me figure out why in the hell I did that. Okay?”

Clara’s eyes searched Amelia’s for a long moment until she heaved a sigh, and suddenly, everything hard about her went soft. “Okay, Amelia. I hear you. I’m just protective, and I’m really worried that you’re not thinking straight.”

“I know you are, and I love you for it.” Especially because Amelia wasn’t sure she was thinking straight either. She’d loved Luka and had planned a future with him. Beckett was her past, and yet today it hadn’t felt that way at all. She kissed Clara’s cheek, hoping to put an end to this conversation. “If I feel lost or need advice, you’ll be the first one I’ll call.” Done with talking about all this until she got her head straight about it all, she moved on. “Now, how about we talk about more important things, like my visit with Ronnie this morning.”

Clara headed for the coffee pot and took out the filters from the cupboard. “He texted me this morning to let me know that you’d reached out about a meeting.”

“I felt bad for leaving so abruptly,” Amelia explained, taking the chair across from Maisie at the table. “But he seemed all right with it all.”

“Of course he would be understanding,” Maisie said, her hair done in a side fishtail braid today, and her jean overalls covered in paint. She’d obviously come from the art studio she owned downtown. “I mean, if he wasn’t, what kind of jackass would he be?”

“A big one.” Amelia nodded agreement. “So, the marketing department came up with a brilliant idea.” She caught her sisters up on all that happened with Ronnie this morning and his idea for the sample beers throughout the year. “Basically, all I need to do is come up with a half dozen samples for them to choose from, beat out the other breweries competing, and we’ve got the next big push we’ve been looking for.”

“That’s an incredible opportunity,” Clara said, leaning against the counter while the coffee brewed behind her. “It’s amazing how much they’re pushing the brewery for us.”

“Truly,” Amelia agreed. “He’s really pulling for us.” She couldn’t have dreamt this up when she finished the Beer Industry Program at the university of Denver. Many of her classmates never got their beer into distribution, typically selling only locally. For Amelia that would have been fine, but Clara being the business minded one, always saw the bigger picture and drove the brewery to the success it had now. Maisie was artsy, and she got out of the brewery business nearly as quick as she got into it, but she lived out her dreams in her art studio. “Things are a little bit in disarray,” Amelia said to Clara, “but I’ll get the brewery back up and running smoothly soon enough. Then I’ll get started on the samples once I get some more Foxy Diva brewing.”

“Excellent news,” Clara said, pride glistening in her eyes. “Let me know if you need any help from me.”

Amelia nodded. “Will do.” Those were empty words. Clara had already done so much for the company. Handling the beer and the brewery fell onto Amelia’s shoulders, and she wanted to prove she could keep up her end of the deal.

Maisie said, “You know I’d offer to help, but I’ll make more of a mess.”

Amelia laughed. “You will, so thanks, I’ll pass on the help.”

Maisie chuckled and shrugged it off. She was the best artist that Amelia knew, but that was her wheelhouse, absolutely nothing else. She still did her part for the brewery by designing any new logos or graphics for the company, and whenever a big event came around, Maisie helped out. Every time.

Amelia added, “The only downside in all this is if I don’t come up with amazing samples, we lose the spot.”

Clara’s eyes searched Amelia’s for a long moment. “It’s a lot of pressure to put on you. Are you ready for this? No one is going to be upset if this is too much too soon, Amelia.”

“I’m ready,” she lied.

Maisie asked, “Do you have any ideas yet?”

No. Amelia forced a smile. “I’m working on them.” She’d never admit that she had absolutely no ideas at all. Her creative juices felt drained dry. Sure, she had some old ideas in her notebooks of ingredients to mix, but nothing stood out to her as spectacular. And these beers needed to stand out in the sea of other incredible beers.

Maisie seemed to read her thoughts and gave a gentle smile. “Well, just know if you get totally stuck, we can keep with Foxy Diva this year and look into something like this next year. I have no doubt Ronnie would understand.”

Yeah, he probably would, but Amelia wouldn’t fail her sisters. Not when they’d done so much for the brewery. “I’ll be fine,” she said, both to her sisters and to herself. She shifted against her chair and she felt something tickling her back. She reached into her back pocket, discovering a piece of paper. “Oh, that sneaky man.”

“What is it?” Maisie asked.

Amelia unfolded the check for ten thousand dollars, signed by Beckett, and showed it to her sisters. “Beckett wasn’t too happy about my paying off Luka for the surgery.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “There is no win-win here. Obviously, you weren’t going to let him go to jail. You had no other choice if he was being too stubborn to pay Luka.”

Amelia agreed with a nod.

Maisie asked, “Was it weird seeing Luka again?”

“Sort of,” Amelia admitted. “But maybe it was better that I saw him right away. Kinda like ripping the Band-Aid off, and now I can walk away and not have to think about him anymore.”

“You’re probably right,” Clara said gently. She made her way over to the table with three coffees on a tray and set them in front of each sister before taking a seat next to Maisie. “Beckett paid you back, then?”

“I told him I didn’t want his money,” Amelia said, hugging the warm mug with her hands. “This is my mess, not his.”

“Apparently he disagrees with you,” Maisie stated before taking a sip of her coffee.

“Yeah, apparently.” Amelia snorted. “He snuck the check into my pocket at some point.” Probably during that last kiss that nearly melted her into a puddle on the floor. She smiled at her sisters. “I’ll just have to sneak it back in his.”

“He’s never going to give on this, Amelia,” Clara countered, lifting her mug to her mouth. “It’s a lot of money. That’s from the inheritance Pops left you, and Beckett knows that.”

Amelia watched Clara sip her coffee and didn’t doubt her decision. “Beckett was just protecting me. He isn’t paying for my mistake. I won’t let it happen.”

“I get that,” Maisie said with a shrug.

A long pause followed as they drank their coffees before Clara addressed Amelia again, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it’s my job as your older sister to look out for you.” She set her mug back down, leveling Amelia with a hard look. “I get wanting to have a rebound to forget about Luka for good, but Beckett isn’t a one-night stand. He can’t ever be that for you.”

Amelia’s heart clenched in agreement. “Beckett isn’t a rebound.”

Maisie chimed in, “So, that kiss was nothing?”

“It was just a kiss. That’s it,” Amelia said in an instant. “A thank you for knocking Luka out.”

Maisie barked a laugh. “That’s some thank you.”

Clara, though, wasn’t laughing. She shook her head, and before taking another sip of her coffee, she said, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Amelia clicked mugs with Maisie. “Don’t you worry about me. I know exactly what I’m doing.”