A few weeks before they were supposed to go on the road, he’d had another dream and showed up at rehearsal looking haggard. He kept his distance from her now when they weren’t dancing, watching her laugh and talk with the others. She seemed a little older than the rest, more mature. Everyone, including Anthony, was crazy about her. When her guard was down, which was miles high with only him, she was charming and funny. And caring—nurturing even. During any down time, she pulled out her knitting needles and made it look incredibly cool. Even Shelton, who was the snarky one out of the bunch, wore the scarf she made for him every day.
She’d won Sparrow over within the first three minutes of their meeting. Now Sparrow came in frequently, and she and Roxie always chatted away like they’d been friends forever. He was glad they’d hit it off so well.
But he wanted in. It was more than making it up to her. It was more than sex, although that’s all he could think about, at first. But every day he was around her, he wanted to know her. Really know her.
Lately she stuck around for lunch, disappearing less and less, and making him hope that she was finally getting more comfortable around him. But today, when they took their lunch break, she gave a wave and took off. On a whim, he followed her, telling himself it wasn’t creepy at all that he tried to make sure she didn’t see him.
He didn’t have to follow her for long. She pulled up to a Taco Bell and hopped out of the car. She waved at someone, but he couldn’t see who. Taking a deep breath, he put on a cap, parked, and got out of the car.
Roxie laughed her throaty laugh, looking toward the window of the restaurant. Beckham stepped beside Roxie and started walking in with her like it was no big deal. When she noticed him, she stopped walking in the middle of the parking lot.
“Beckham? What are you doing here?” Roxie said sharply.
“I … followed you. Sorry.” He tried to judge how mad he’d made her this time. “I wanted to know where you go when you disappear, maybe surprise you.” He tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and guilty. “Now I realize what a bad move this was. I just-I want us to get along, Roxie … I thought maybe away from everyone else, you’d talk to me? Maybe tell me what I can do to make it better?”
“I’ve made it a point not to tell you anything,” she said, but without her usual anger.
The words stung, but she looked so distraught he couldn’t be too upset with her. He put his hand on her arm.
“Please, hear me out. I know you hate me. I want to know everything that happened, everything that I screwed up before with you. But first, can you … try to get to know the person I am now? Trust me, I don’t follow every dancer home from rehearsal,” he said with a laugh. When she didn’t laugh, he wiped the smile off his face. “I don’t want all this tension between us. It’ll show when we’re dancing. We need to find a way to work past this.”
“I think we’re working together just fine. Do you not think I’m doing a good job?”
“You’re doing an amazing job,“ he conceded. “But imagine how much better it would be if you didn’t despise me.” He laughed lightly and when she still didn’t, he looked at her helplessly. “Help me make it right,” he pleaded.
“You can’t make it right,” she whispered.
A few cars drove around them. One honked and Beckham took her elbow and guided her to the sidewalk.
“What did I do to you?” He turned around and put his hands against the brick. Before turning around again, he said: “Roxie, you have to tell me what happened.”
“I can’t.” She held her lips together to keep from crying.
“Then why did you come? Why did you agree to do this tour with me?” His stare pinned her to one spot.
“You and Anthony—you’re the best there is. I didn’t think I would make it! And then when Anthony called and I saw how much I’d make … I couldn’t turn that down! My sister had this obsessive, abusive, jerk boyfriend. She was with him for years and needed to get away from him, and … we’ve both struggled for a long time. I just … I should have, but I couldn’t say no.”
He turned and put his hands on her arms. “I’m glad you couldn’t. So your sister is staying in town too?”
She nodded.
“I’d love to meet her. She’s welcome to come hang at the warehouse anytime.” He took a deep breath and then went for it. “Can we call a truce? I’m not so bad…” His voice trailed off and he lost his thought. Her lips looked so perfect. If he could just get a little closer to her mouth…
He nearly stumbled when she took a step back. Such an idiot. Holding up both hands, he took his own step back and shook his head. He put his hands on his head and left them there.
“I don’t know what my problem is. I’m sorry. I can’t stop blowing it with you. Look, I will stick to keeping this professional … even though I feel something with you that I don’t want to … ignore,” Beckham paused, but when Roxie still didn’t speak, he continued. “I won’t cross the line with you anymore, Roxie. No more following-you stunts…”
“That would be good, thank you.” She gave a small smile to counter some of her sarcasm.
Her smile fell before he could blink. Dammit, she was so hard to read.
She took a deep breath and blew it out of her mouth. “Professional, you said.” Her voice shook at first, but grew stronger. “Yes, that’s the only way.” She nodded and avoided looking him in the eye. “We have to keep it professional. Deal?” She held her hand out.
He shook it and tried to ignore the heat he felt in her touch as they stared each other down. He should have been disappointed by what she’d said, but he saw warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. It almost made him … hopeful.
Beckham lifted Roxie’s hand to his lips and planted a soft kiss on it.
There was the tiniest flicker of a smile before she scowled and pulled her hand away. “We made a deal!”
He raised his eyebrows and couldn’t stop the smile that covered his face. “What?”
Her hands were on her hips and her forehead was all scrunched up.
“What?” he repeated, laughing.
She waved her hand in the air, dismissing him. “Go home already. Use your Beckham Woods charm on someone else.”
“There’s the Roxie I know.” He laughed. “See you tomorrow, Rox. Wait—so you think I’m charming?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Lose the hat, never get such a short haircut again, and you might improve on the charm factor.”
“You don’t like my new haircut?”
She just continued to stare.
“So basically how I was before I got this new haircut, minus the hat?”
He took the hat off and threw it in the garbage can, then made a slight bow in front of her. When he stood back up, he raised his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes. “Right. I’ll get started on growing the hair. Got any good tips for that?” He backed away, still smiling and unable to look away from her.
She looked so cute angry.
Almost as good as she’d look in his bed.
Shit. Hopeless.
There had been additions to the wall. Several, in fact. She learned quickly that Beckham’s manager was worthless in providing any information; he was more of an annoyance. Beckham’s bodyguard, Howie, looked like a block but had ruined her plans more than once. Chloe, the airheaded brat who was just always there. The girl needed to get a life and do something irresponsible once in a while. Like, look away, or better yet, walk away, so trouble had a chance. And it angered her every time she looked at her masterpiece dart wall and saw the little boy. She had a larger picture of him and he was covered with tacks.