Life Unwritten Read online

  Beck takes my plate and places it in the basket with his before stretching out on his side. Propped up with one arm he reaches over with the other and pulls me until I’m mirroring him. Smiling, he says, “This scene is where the beautiful blonde falls for the charming boy.”

  “Please.” I roll my eyes, knowing he’s nailed the scene on the head, except for the part where I’m beautiful and there’s certainly nothing boyish about him. I’ve already fallen for him. That happened at least two chapters back.

  He grasps my hip and drags me closer, the moon casting a glow to his aqua irises. “You don’t find me charming even a little?”

  “Maybe just a little,” I whisper right before his lips connect with mine, but I draw back. “You sure this scene isn’t about making it around the bases, because I can tell you right now I’m not athletic enough to make it off home plate.” I give him a sharp look, hoping to emphasize my point.

  “Oh, I bet I’m skilled enough to help you make it safely to first base. In fact, we’ve already made it there a few times.” He takes to skimming his lips over my exposed shoulder and then on to my neck.

  “First base is as far as we’re going,” I warn as his lips edge to the corner of mine, sending my heart into a fit of nerves and excitement.

  “That’s fine.” He licks my bottom lip, sending a tingle to ignite there and skirt down my spine. “But just so you know it only gets better.”

  “How do you know?” I stutter out, my hands grasping onto his broad shoulders as he rolls me to my back.

  Beck kisses his answer until the night is swirling around us. Languid and tender is his touch, reassuring me that, yes, it gets better, but promising me to not take it any further.

  I’m lost in this kiss until the wind disappears. Everything stills around us and then my skin comes to life. Slapping the invasion away, I try and fail to remain in the romantic scene Beck has written for us.

  “Ow!” I slap at my neck and elbow him in the process. “I’m getting eaten alive!”

  Beck jumps up and helps me to my feet while slapping at his forehead. “Man, I didn’t even think about bug spray.”

  I glance around and find the air swarming with millions of blood suckers. Stings ricochet all over my back. Hopping around and brushing my arms wherever they can reach, I screech out in pain. Beck grabs me up and hauls me to the Jeep in a mad dash. After I’m safely tucked inside and away from the mosquitos, he backtracks and gathers the basket and quilt.

  He climbs in and slams the door, causing it to bang in frustration. Clearly, the pesky insects ruined his plans. I can’t help but giggle when he faces me, revealing several red welts blooming along his face. One in particular in the middle of his forehead looks like a horn trying to emerge.

  “This isn’t funny.” Beck glares while scratching at a welt on his cheek.

  “You know it is,” I rebuke, scratching at my neck.

  “But I still want to kiss you some more.” He growls out, sounding like a brute.

  “What’s stopping you?” Before I can sass some more, Beck lunges over and sends my seat reclining backwards.

  His heavy weight settles against me as his lips pick back up with mine where they left off. We kiss until both of us seem to not be able to ignore the irritating bites any longer.

  Growling, he sits up and starts the Jeep and reluctantly leaves our scene behind.

  “What are you over there snickering about?” Beck asks as he drives me home. My mind is caught on a replay of our date as I stare out the window. “Tell me,” he says a little louder when I don’t respond.

  “What we did… Isn’t that… That’s something teenagers do, right?” My neck and cheeks heat, but I can’t control the grin on my face no matter the embarrassment. I’ve never been parking before. He can deny it all he wants, but that’s what we did. My window still holds the foggy evidence.

  He gives me a devilish grin in return. “I think we did our scene justice that some dumb teenagers wouldn’t be able to pull off.”

  Beck sounds so sure of himself that I have to laugh. “Teenagers would probably remember insect repellant.”

  “Who says that wasn’t part of my charming plan? Forget the spray to lure the beautiful blonde inside my Jeep?” Beck tries pulling off a smug expression, but the red welts totally ruin it.

  Laughing, I lean over and place a kiss on his cheek as he parks in my driveway. “Thank you for helping me pen an experience I missed out on as a teen.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, ma’am. I’d like to pen several more scenes with you soon.”

  I’m not ready for the scene to be over so I ask, “Would you like to come inside?”

  “That’s probably not a good idea. I may do something dumb like bite you or chase you to second base.”

  “Fair enough.” Disappointment mingles with relief.

  “But I’d like to walk you to your door.”

  I toss my hands up. “No. Stay. If you walk me to the door, I may do something dumb like drag you inside.”

  Laughing, Beck leans over and offers me one last kiss for the night. I worry he’s becoming my new vice. Not sure if that’s any healthier than chocolate or bourbon.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Soon,” I mumble and head inside alone. For some reason, that’s really starting to bother me.

  Chapter Eight

  Soon. The internet defines this word as meaning within a short period of time. Two days is too long to be considered soon to me. This fact has left me cranky and with my first bout with writer’s block. Beck said he’d see me soon. Even sealed his promise with a sweet kiss. The sucker lied. Now an inner irritation has joined in with the itchy spots on my skin. I rub at a lingering bite on my forearm as I stare absently at the ocean sparkling before me. The ebb and flow of the waves keep my attention until heavy feet hit the deck.

  I look up but quickly go back to studying the ocean. “What do you want?”

  “Nice to see you, too.” Beck chuckles. He takes the lounge chair beside mine and yanks mine closer. “Hold my hand, Miss Grouch.”

  “I will soon.” I cross my arms and refuse his request.

  “Did you miss me?” Beck asks with too much laughter in his tone.

  “No. Truthfully, I think you’re unhealthy for me and should just leave me alone.”

  “How’s that?”

  I sit up and glare over at him. “I’m a writer. I need to write. You’ve bossed your way into my life and have wreaked havoc on my routine. This kissing me and then going MIA for days at the time… I ain’t got time for that.”

  “I had this two-day body boot camp to instruct with a few other guys. Sorry my routine doesn’t revolve around yours, Harp.”

  “Oh, now I’m harping on you again?” I plop back down in the chair and close my eyes.

  “I’m flattered you miss me.”

  Before I can open my eyes and glare, Beck has wedged himself in the chair with me. I push against his chest. “Get off. You’re blocking my sun.” Dang. He smells so good that my arms wrap around his neck to draw him nearer. Ugh. Here goes the tug-of-war with myself again.

  He skims his nose along mine. “I missed you, too. Let’s work on a new scene today.”

  “I need to be writing some scenes. Alone.”

  Beck places a feather-soft kiss on my pouty bottom lip. “Are you on a deadline?”

  “No, but—”

  He deepens the kiss, effectively cutting off any excuse I could have come up with. “Hmm… I love kissing you.” His confession has my toes curling. “Go somewhere with me, please,” he says against my lips and then goes back to kissing my refusal away.

  When he finally draws back enough to eye me, I’m breathless and want nothing more than to go wherever he leads—to the end of the earth, to the coffee shop, to the garbage dump... “Where?”

  “You’ll see.” Beck pushes the dark locks back from his forehead and stands. He offers his hand and helps me up, too.

  “Cut-off jeans
and this T-shirt okay?”

  Beck motions to his pair of jeans and V-neck tee. I think he favors that style due to his thick neck. The man is all muscle. “We’re good. Let’s go.”

  After we load up and he begins pulling out of my driveway, I try again. “Seriously, where are we going?”

  Beck glances at me but quickly goes back to studying the road. “Worship service.”

  “Wait. What?” I grab his arm. “I’m not dressed for church. You can’t just spring something like this on me!” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and look around for an escape route. I’m seriously about to freak out! “My mother would have a conniption fit if she knew I showed up to church in jeans!”

  “You’re dressed just fine. Stop harping.”

  “I’m not harping. This isn’t harping. I can show you harping!” I let go of his arm and deliver a punch. “What type of church is it?”

  “The normal kind.” He downshifts and rolls to a halt at the red-light.

  “What do you mean by normal?”

  “Why do you question everything to death? Harp, harp, harp!” Beck shakes his head and takes back off a little faster than warranted, sending my head to bounce against the headrest.

  Crossing my arms, I fix him with a mean look. “If your plan is to take me to some kind of new age religious crap, then you need to let me out right now.” This is what I get for declaring I’d go anywhere with him. I’d rather go to the garbage dump!

  Beck pulls into a beach access lot and yanks up the emergency brake. Taking this as my cue to blow this scene, I fumble with opening the door. Before I can scoot out, Beck reaches over and tugs me back in and pulls the door shut.

  “It’s Oceanside Baptist Church. Happy?”

  Refusing to answer, I let out a huff instead.

  “For someone not into church, you’ve got quite a high standard in place.”

  “I’d rather not go to any church, but I certainly don’t want to go to some weird one.”

  “As long as the church stands on Jesus being our Savior, it doesn’t matter what the wrapping looks like. And it certainly doesn’t matter what title graces the sign in front of the church.” He rubs the back of his neck, his tell for being frustrated. I’ve seen it enough in the last month to call it. “You do realize there won’t be a religious police at the door of heaven asking to see your church denomination license before allowing you in, right?”

  Sure, Beck has a point, but I won’t admit it. “I don’t appreciate you not being straight up with me.”

  “For that I apologize. You’re just too fun to get riled up.” He leans over, engulfing me with his soapy aroma and body heat, and places a gentle kiss on my lips.

  “I’m not sure that apology was believable,” I sass before he draws away.

  Beck’s aqua eyes sparkle. “Guess I should give it another go.” He brushes his fingertips along my cheek and reclaims my lips. Tender at first but it rapidly grows with intensity.

  The kiss Beck lays on me clears any transgression the man has ever committed against me.

  Grinning, he sits back into his seat and releases the emergency brake. “Now we’re going to be late, and that’s your fault.”

  I’d rather we skip the whole dang thing, so I offer, “Need me to apologize now?”

  Beck shakes his head and releases a low chuckle. “Later. I’ll be sure to collect.”

  Once he makes it through one more stoplight, Beck pulls into another beach access lot and shuts the engine off. I crane my neck around, looking for a church, only to find a pile of rubble beside an open air pavilion across the road from the beach. People line the wood benches underneath.

  “That’s the church?” I ask, not believing it.

  “Yes. Their building was lost in a fire a few months back, but they still meet every Sunday morning.”

  “Oh. I think I remember hearing something about that. How’d you find it?” I give him a sidelong glance before going back to looking over my shoulder where the people are singing.

  “Heading to breakfast one Sunday morning. I stopped at the light and could hear them singing, so I joined in.”

  I’m impressed that he would just take initiative to just join in a service. No way would I ever do such a thing. I’m not very fond of the idea at this moment either.

  “Do you make it a habit of crashing church services?” I tease.

  “No, I make it a habit of praising God any chance I get. I’ve moved a lot, but I always try to find a church family wherever I end up.”

  That’s way too much interaction with unknown people and it makes me slouch down lower in the seat, wishing it would tether me to it.

  Beck must sense my hesitation. “They’re a really cool bunch. Come on.” He’s out the door and on my side in a flash and is pulling me alongside him across the street before I can slam on the brakes.

  Thankfully, he picks a back bench and no one seems to notice us crashing their service. They continue to sing with no musical instruments to accompany them. Beck joins in but I choose to people watch. It’s quite an eclectic group with a mix of races and a wide range in age. Some are dressed casually, some in their Sunday best, while others are a bit out there. While the group seems filled with opposites no one seems to oppose anyone’s company.

  When the song wraps, I wait for one of the gray-headed men wearing a suit to step up to the small wood podium up front. Instead, a bald-headed guy sporting a dark hipster beard takes the post. His attire is simply a pair of dark jeans and an untucked white button-down shirt.

  With his hands shoved inside his pockets and an air of casualness about him, the guy looks over the group of maybe a hundred or more people and says, “Good morning. I see a few new friends have joined in with us today. My name is Mason Townsend and I’d love to share God’s word with you for a little while.” He flips open a worn Bible and begins reading.

  I tune the words out and get distracted by his facial expressions. The guy is quite animated. Each time he makes a point, Mason looks up and arches an eyebrow in an impressive upside-down V. How in the heck does he send the one up to where his hairline is supposed to be while the other remains hovering over his eye like it should? He could give the Rock a run for his money with the dramatic eye arch thing. I don’t realize I’m trying to mimic him until Beck taps my leg.

  He leans over and whispers, “You got something in your eye?”

  I blink several times and shake my head. I’m about to go back to studying Mason’s expressions when he suddenly breaks out singing the chorus to a familiar hymn. Oh, wow. The man can sing. And just as suddenly as he broke out in song, he’s back to speaking. He now has my undivided attention. Never have I seen such in a worship service.

  Back at my childhood church, the services were always stuffy with the preacher looking down his snarling nose at the congregation, mainly speaking in a snippy tone and raising it occasionally to wake some of the members back up.

  Not Mason. He speaks with the group and not down at us. He asks questions and expects comments in return. He makes jokes and laughs, but in the next breath grows somber in such earnest that I can’t help but feel empathy. It feels like he’s leading a conversation with everyone. It’s comfortable. This unusually normal guy standing before the group has drawn my interest enough to want to listen to see what he has to say.

  Mason flips a few pages in his Bible and begins reading. “Restore unto me the joy of my salvation.” He glances up with that one brow arching dramatically and nods his head. “This thing called life. Yeah, it gets tough sometimes.” He motions around the open air pavilion and then over to the scant remains of the burnt building. “Hello! You get me right?”

  Several folks speak out in agreement.

  “We need each other, but it’s impossible unless we’re going to be honest. Don’t show me your false self. No sir. Take off the mask and let’s get real with one another.” Mason steps around the podium and begins strolling down the makeshift aisle. “It’s the only way to truly rest
ore your joy. You can’t pretend the bad away!” His voice rises on the last part and sends a pressure to build in my chest.

  As I watch the preacher move back to the front, I try rubbing the odd sensation away. It’s an uncomfortable disturbance inside me. Foreign and out of place and I want nothing more than to be rid of it.

  “Something wrong?” Beck whispers close to my ear.

  I keep my eyes forward and shake my head.

  “You sure?”

  I nod and drop my hand back to my lap only for Beck to pick it up and entwine our fingers. I can feel him watching me for the remainder of the service, but keep ignoring his scrutiny and the achiness of my chest and the thickening of my throat. I wonder if I’m coming down with something. I pretend to scratch my cheek to test the heat level and find it to be quite warm with possibly a fever.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Beck I need to go home when Mason asks for everyone to rise and sing “Amazing Grace” while opening up the altar for prayer needs. Surprisingly, Beck lets go of my hand and makes his way to the front where several others are kneeling. Not being able to stand another minute of this, I scurry back across the street and hide out in the Jeep.

  Closing my eye, I rest my head against the window and try to calm down. Mason’s words about pretending to be something you’re not hit home and I’m reeling over how miserable it’s made me. Taking a calming breath that stutters in and right back out, I ache to be free of the mess I’m in. I’m halfway through a set of breathing exercises when I hear the other door open.

  “What’s wrong, Harper?”

  I open my eyes and see Beck leaning over me with concern reflecting in the pools of blue. Not liking it, my eyes drift back shut.

  “Headache. Just need to get home please.”

  “Okay.”

  The engine comes to life and is followed by the sway of the Jeep moving. When it stops and I hear the familiar clicking sound of the emergency brake being pulled up, I finally reopen my eyes and climb out.