“Excuse me?” Gia’s stride faltered before she regained her pace. “Did I do something to upset you?”
He had the good manners to look slightly chagrined. “No. Everything’s fine.”
“Right. Because you sound fine.” She sighed with relief as her elliptical clicked down to a less torturous resistance. “Do you want to talk about it?” she offered.
“No.”
“My dad always says —”
“I don’t need any fatherly advice from him,” Beckett snapped. “I had a father. He was a great man and some second-rate substitute isn’t going to take his place.”
“Is that what you think —”
Beckett cut her off again. His face was red and it wasn’t from exertion. “I also don’t need to be analyzed by some kumbaya yogi who thinks we can all get along and that love will conquer all.”
“Okay then. Message received. You don’t like my father dating your mother.”
“I don’t like your father taking advantage of my mother,” he corrected her, stabbing the resistance button on his machine.
“Taking advantage?” She felt the pulse in her head begin to thud, the sure sign of a headache blooming. “Beckett, I think you have the wrong idea.”
“Is his restaurant in trouble? Maybe he’s behind on his mortgage? He needs a little capital to keep things going so he looks for someone with a nest egg. Maybe someone who’s a little lonely. Lays on the charm. A few months later and bam! He’s moving in with her.”
“I’m going to stop you right there before you go any further down this rabbit hole,” Gia said. She took a deep breath and then another one, reminding herself not to take it personally. He was lashing out because he was hurting with a pain that was palpable.
And she needed to get out of there before she punched him in the face to give him some real physical pain.
“It sounds like you could use some time alone to work out your feelings,” she said, evenly.
“I could use some time without you and your father popping up everywhere in my life.”
“Too bad about that year lease that I signed.” She pressed the stop button on her machine and grabbed her towel and water bottle. “I hope you feel better.”
Beckett didn’t feel any better when Gianna left the gym. In fact, he felt worse. Now, a sick layer of guilt settled over the simmering anger in his belly. He got off of the elliptical and wiped it and Gia’s abandoned machine down before storming into the locker room.
So much for working off some of the mad before work.
Beckett headed into the gray tiled shower stall where he ducked his head under the water, willing it to wash away the sadness.
He was a mess. A mental mess. Obviously he had overreacted to Gianna. He hadn’t expected to see her there in what he considered his space. The woman was everywhere. His backyard, his childhood home, and now his gym.
His attraction to her frustrated him to no end. He’d never felt so enamored with a woman before. Attracted? Yes. Interested? Yes. But this was different.
Gianna was different.
She wasn’t his type. She was too spontaneous, too vivacious. There was nothing subtle about her, from the flaming red curls to the voluptuous curves and her throaty laugh. He preferred quiet confidence, the restrained beauty of sexy suits and impeccably styled hair. A woman he could discuss the law or the latest Wall Street news with, not someone who challenged him with arguments and teasing until he was lightheaded.
He didn’t want to like her. Topping the list of reasons why was the fact that she was Franklin’s daughter. There wasn’t a scenario on earth that would make him friendly toward Franklin again.
Beckett twisted the faucet, cutting off the stream of water.
And there wasn’t anything that could change the circumstances of his relationship with Gianna. She was his tenant, she had children. Both factors made the complications so steep that it should have only strengthened his resolve to swear off women for the rest of the year.
Trudy had been a mistake, one that he should have seen coming ... and then run full-speed in the opposite direction. While Beckett considered them to be casually dating, the willowy brunette had been measuring his windows for new curtains and practically printing up business cards that said Mrs. Beckett Pierce.
Her biggest mistake had been assuming that being mayor of Blue Moon was just a steppingstone in his political career. She had actually started making inquiries into their district’s congressional election. “For you, darling. Isn’t it time you look beyond this tiny town?” she had asked, stroking a manicured hand down his chest.
She didn’t understand why someone “with his education and drive” would want to stay in Blue Moon Bend. She told him he was wasting his potential. He told her they were over.