He’d wanted to get some space, some perspective. Every time he was near her, his judgment clouded. He was distracted to the point that Ellery had suggested that perhaps he needed another vacation. The woman didn’t just occupy his backyard, she occupied his mind. If he wasn’t thinking about how much he wanted her, he was analyzing why he wanted her more than any other woman to date. And he’d been pretty damn excited about Moon Beam Parker at sixteen.
It felt unhealthy. He was used to dating and enjoying women who didn’t run in an obsessive loop in his head all day, every day. But Gianna? She was on his mind on his morning run, in the shower, during conference calls. He’d even had a few colorful dreams about her that left him disappointed when he woke to find himself alone in bed.
He briefly considered confiding his confusion in his brothers, but immediately rejected the idea. They’d only tell him to embrace the attraction … and then tease him mercilessly.
There were two choices. One, stay the course and leave Gianna as just a tenant and neighbor. Or two, explore the attraction that kept growing while risking it all. If it didn’t work out there were the kids, the town, and a year’s lease to think about.
All weighed heavily on his mind.
Beckett was still pondering his options over the sink as he washed his lunch dishes when he caught a glimpse of Gianna walking from the driveway to her front porch. Even with her head down, he could tell she was crying.
He was out the back door before she even made it to her porch.
“What’s wrong, Red?” he asked, climbing the steps behind her.
She hid her face as she dug through her bag looking for her keys. There was a definite nip in the October air that would transform to a real chill by the carnival that night.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just can’t find my key.”
Beckett reached up to the porch rafter and slid the spare into his fingers. “Here.”
Gianna finally looked up at him and frowned. “Where did you find that?”
“I had a spare made when you left your keys in my office. There’s a spare for your studio, too.”
“Do you think I’m some bumbling idiot who can’t survive on her own?” She sniffed indignantly.
“No, Red. I think you spend all your time taking care of others and you don’t leave any room in that brain of yours for yourself. You feed the kids lunch and forget to have any yourself. You stay late after class to listen to a student who needs to talk and forget where you put your keys. You prioritize your day by what’s important to you and that’s other people, not things like keys and lunch and probably your cellphone.”
Gianna glanced down in her bag and frowned. “Shit.”
“It’s probably with your keys.”
“Did you lock your studio?”
She winced. “I can’t remember.”
“Baby, this is Blue Moon. We could leave the bank vault open and send everyone out for lunch and no one would think to walk in and help themselves.”
She was tearing up again.
“Okay. Let’s get you inside.” Beckett took the key from her and let them in.
He put her bag on the floor by the door and pulled out a chair from her dining room table. “Come here, Red.”
He sat and pulled her into his lap.
Sitting stiffly against him, she sniffled. “That was a really nice thing to say, rather than calling me flighty and scatterbrained or stupid,” she sniffled.
“Gianna, anyone who would call you stupid is a fucking idiot.” He stroked a hand down her back.
She laughed.
“Now, talk. What’s wrong?”
As the tears came back she sank into him. Beckett grabbed the tissue box off the table and handed it to her.
She buried her face in a tissue and took a shaky breath.
“It’s mostly good. Mostly happy tears,” she sniffled.
“Tell me.”
She rested her head against his chest and hiccupped. “Evan’s teacher emailed me at lunch. She said there’s a new girl in his class who’s been having a hard time at home and today Evan brought her flowers and a homemade card to cheer her up. And then he and his friends invited her to sit with them at lunch.”
She ended her explanation on something close to a wail.
Beckett continued to stroke her back. “That’s very thoughtful and considerate.”
Gianna nodded against his jacket. “You’d better check your mums. I think I have a feeling I know where he got the flowers.”
Beckett chuckled.
“To know that the boy I’m raising has that much compassion and empathy is just incredible. He’s going to grow up to be such a good man. Despite everything.”
“It’s not despite everything, it’s because of how you’re raising him,” Beckett said softly.
“Just when I think I’m doing everything wrong and turning them into monsters, they go and do stuff like this. And just when they go all awesome on me, I fail them spectacularly.”
“How did you fail?” He let his hand slide up to the back of her neck where he gently rubbed.
“Paul called. Said he’s losing his job. Again. He asked if I could put Evan on my health insurance.” Gianna hiccupped again.
“But because he’s not your biological son …” Beckett filled in.
“Exactly. And even if he was, the premiums are astronomical. I need to think about a part-time job. The studio is too new to start pulling money out of it.”