Feeling Hot
Page 68
“It means everything,” Jane muttered under her breath. “It’s the only word she says.”
“Thanks for coming,” Becker told the men. He glanced at Jen. “You too, Jen. I’m sorry to hear about the troubles you’ve been having with your ex-boyfriend.”
She shrugged. “Thanks, but I think the trouble’s come to an end.”
Cash casually squeezed her arm before she could say more. He didn’t want her bringing up the fight at the bar and reigniting Becker’s anger.
“So the little princess is growing up,” Cash said, reaching out to touch one of Sadie’s tiny hands.
She immediately curled her whole fist around his index finger and squeezed. Man, the kid was strong. Then again, she was the offspring of Thomas Becker, so no surprise there.
“She sure is.” Becker planted an indulgent kiss on the tuft of red hair atop Sadie’s head. “And she’s smart as a whip. She—” He halted, his brown eyes narrowing as he gazed at something behind Cash. Then he made an annoyed sound and turned to glare at his wife. “Why the fu-fudge did you invite Steven?”
Jane was clearly braver than Cash and the others, because she didn’t cower under Becker’s hard stare. “It was the polite thing to do.”
“Polite? That lunatic nearly killed our child.”
Cash and Jen exchanged WTF looks, as did Dylan and Jackson.
“It was harmless fun, Beck!” Jane shot back.
“Who’s Steven?” Jen spoke up tentatively.
Becker jammed a finger across the backyard. Everyone followed his gaze, but the only person in their line of sight was a chubby blonde with a cherub-cheeked infant in her arms.
“Wait—Steven’s the baby?” Dylan said, looking confused.
“Spawn of Satan,” Becker corrected.
Jane sighed. “Beck tags along for my Mommy and Me program.” Which she sounded incredibly unthrilled about. “Last time we were there, Steven crawled over to Sadie and knocked her over. It was nothing. They both got giggly about it and wiggled around on the floor afterwards.”
Becker looked livid. “That baby had malevolence in his eyes, Jane. He knew exactly what he was doing when—”
“Who wants to help me refill the beer cooler?” Jane interrupted, completely turning away from her husband.
Cash spoke first. “I’ll do it.”
He resisted doing a victory dance as Dylan, Jackson and Jen all scowled at him in betrayal. Whatever. He didn’t feel the slightest bit remorse over saddling them with Becker. This entire conversation had begun to feel like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Babies with malevolence in their eyes? Fatherhood had clearly turned the commander into a crazy person.
Besides, he’d been hoping to get Jane alone today, and now that the opportunity had presented itself, he pounced on it, trailing after the redhead as she headed for the house.
“We stored all the alcohol in the fridge in the basement,” she explained as she led him to a door in the hallway. Jane opened the door, pulled on a metal string and light illuminated a narrow staircase.
“I’m glad we have a moment alone,” Cash said as they trudged down to the basement. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Jane looked intrigued. “Okay.”
The Beckers’ basement was unfinished, featuring a large dusty room cluttered with boxes. Pink drywall covered walls that still needed to be insulated, and the exposed piping gave the room a creepy vibe. Jane walked over to the large freezer against the far wall and leaned in to grab a case of Bud Light, which Cash promptly took from her hands and set on the floor. “Let me do it. How many cases do you want to bring out?”
“Two or three should be fine.”
As he grabbed two more and added them to the pile, Jane leaned against the wall and said, “So what did you want to talk about?”
He hesitated, then reached into his back pocket for the USB memory stick he’d shoved there. Guilt pricked his gut as he pulled out the evidence of his subterfuge. He hated going behind Jen’s back, but he knew that if left to her own devices, she would keep stalling, the way she had for the past five days.
Despite her insistence that she was ready to seriously pursue photography, he’d noticed that she’d started second-guessing herself again, this time with the photos she wanted to include in her portfolio. Since no papers or magazines in the area had any open full-time positions, Jen’s best bet was to submit work to a variety of publications in hopes of landing a freelance gig, but the way she was agonizing over this portfolio, it would take years before she sent any submissions out.
That’s why he’d wanted to talk to Jane. Before marrying Becker, Jane had worked for a big-time magazine in L.A., and Cash had been considering the idea of getting Jane to put feelers out with her former editor. But he knew they’d need to see Jen’s work before extending any offers, and he also knew Jen wouldn’t dream of sending stuff to such a prestigious publication.
Cash shifted on his feet. “You still keep in contact with your editor at Today’s World, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
He rolled the memory key between his fingers, battling another pang of guilt as he remembered the way he’d snuck onto Jen’s laptop when she’d been in the shower earlier and copied her entire picture folder onto this stick.
“Jen’s a photographer,” he started. “And she’s damn good.”
“Thanks for coming,” Becker told the men. He glanced at Jen. “You too, Jen. I’m sorry to hear about the troubles you’ve been having with your ex-boyfriend.”
She shrugged. “Thanks, but I think the trouble’s come to an end.”
Cash casually squeezed her arm before she could say more. He didn’t want her bringing up the fight at the bar and reigniting Becker’s anger.
“So the little princess is growing up,” Cash said, reaching out to touch one of Sadie’s tiny hands.
She immediately curled her whole fist around his index finger and squeezed. Man, the kid was strong. Then again, she was the offspring of Thomas Becker, so no surprise there.
“She sure is.” Becker planted an indulgent kiss on the tuft of red hair atop Sadie’s head. “And she’s smart as a whip. She—” He halted, his brown eyes narrowing as he gazed at something behind Cash. Then he made an annoyed sound and turned to glare at his wife. “Why the fu-fudge did you invite Steven?”
Jane was clearly braver than Cash and the others, because she didn’t cower under Becker’s hard stare. “It was the polite thing to do.”
“Polite? That lunatic nearly killed our child.”
Cash and Jen exchanged WTF looks, as did Dylan and Jackson.
“It was harmless fun, Beck!” Jane shot back.
“Who’s Steven?” Jen spoke up tentatively.
Becker jammed a finger across the backyard. Everyone followed his gaze, but the only person in their line of sight was a chubby blonde with a cherub-cheeked infant in her arms.
“Wait—Steven’s the baby?” Dylan said, looking confused.
“Spawn of Satan,” Becker corrected.
Jane sighed. “Beck tags along for my Mommy and Me program.” Which she sounded incredibly unthrilled about. “Last time we were there, Steven crawled over to Sadie and knocked her over. It was nothing. They both got giggly about it and wiggled around on the floor afterwards.”
Becker looked livid. “That baby had malevolence in his eyes, Jane. He knew exactly what he was doing when—”
“Who wants to help me refill the beer cooler?” Jane interrupted, completely turning away from her husband.
Cash spoke first. “I’ll do it.”
He resisted doing a victory dance as Dylan, Jackson and Jen all scowled at him in betrayal. Whatever. He didn’t feel the slightest bit remorse over saddling them with Becker. This entire conversation had begun to feel like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Babies with malevolence in their eyes? Fatherhood had clearly turned the commander into a crazy person.
Besides, he’d been hoping to get Jane alone today, and now that the opportunity had presented itself, he pounced on it, trailing after the redhead as she headed for the house.
“We stored all the alcohol in the fridge in the basement,” she explained as she led him to a door in the hallway. Jane opened the door, pulled on a metal string and light illuminated a narrow staircase.
“I’m glad we have a moment alone,” Cash said as they trudged down to the basement. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Jane looked intrigued. “Okay.”
The Beckers’ basement was unfinished, featuring a large dusty room cluttered with boxes. Pink drywall covered walls that still needed to be insulated, and the exposed piping gave the room a creepy vibe. Jane walked over to the large freezer against the far wall and leaned in to grab a case of Bud Light, which Cash promptly took from her hands and set on the floor. “Let me do it. How many cases do you want to bring out?”
“Two or three should be fine.”
As he grabbed two more and added them to the pile, Jane leaned against the wall and said, “So what did you want to talk about?”
He hesitated, then reached into his back pocket for the USB memory stick he’d shoved there. Guilt pricked his gut as he pulled out the evidence of his subterfuge. He hated going behind Jen’s back, but he knew that if left to her own devices, she would keep stalling, the way she had for the past five days.
Despite her insistence that she was ready to seriously pursue photography, he’d noticed that she’d started second-guessing herself again, this time with the photos she wanted to include in her portfolio. Since no papers or magazines in the area had any open full-time positions, Jen’s best bet was to submit work to a variety of publications in hopes of landing a freelance gig, but the way she was agonizing over this portfolio, it would take years before she sent any submissions out.
That’s why he’d wanted to talk to Jane. Before marrying Becker, Jane had worked for a big-time magazine in L.A., and Cash had been considering the idea of getting Jane to put feelers out with her former editor. But he knew they’d need to see Jen’s work before extending any offers, and he also knew Jen wouldn’t dream of sending stuff to such a prestigious publication.
Cash shifted on his feet. “You still keep in contact with your editor at Today’s World, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
He rolled the memory key between his fingers, battling another pang of guilt as he remembered the way he’d snuck onto Jen’s laptop when she’d been in the shower earlier and copied her entire picture folder onto this stick.
“Jen’s a photographer,” he started. “And she’s damn good.”
