and utterly crushed. She wanted to run home—immediately. Or she needed to drink. Literally everything in this bar. She grabbed her cocktail and took a huge gulp.
“On the bright side, do you know how many women in Aspen would kill to get a nickname from Liam Beck? Even a bad one?” Mira was just grasping at desperate jokes, trying to make her feel better, but Allie felt like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. At the very least, she’d thought Beck had been…her friend. Friends didn’t treat friends like this. It felt like one more betrayal. “Oh, geez. I’m making this worse.” Mira shook her head. “Look, do not let him into your head like this. This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Who cares what he or any of his loser groupies say?”
Allie did. She wished she didn’t, but she did. It was that simple. The worst part was that, deep down, she didn’t believe it was true. She’d seen Beck’s face when he’d come; she’d looked right into the man’s eyes. He didn’t look bored. He looked…electric, enthralled, completely and utterly focused on her. And would a bored man have gone back for seconds…thirds…and fourths? It seemed like his frantic want had matched hers, that he’d needed it as much as she had.
But maybe she’d read him all wrong.
After all, he hadn’t called her. On the contrary, he’d deliberately avoided her. And now…that damn nickname. Greenie. She wasn’t timid or boring or any of those things. She might be an accountant raised by helicopter parents, but she wasn’t a mouse. She glanced over at Beck and saw him throw back his head and laugh, his teeth almost too white against his tanned face. Maybe he and Channing were laughing at her right now.
“I think I should go.” Allie didn’t want to run scared, but she also didn’t want to be in a room anymore with Liam Beck.
“Stop that right now,” Mira commanded and snapped her fingers near Allie’s face. Once more, her attention was on her best friend. “Don’t let him ruin your night. You hear me?”
“He can’t ruin my night,” Allie said. “Not if I don’t let him.”
“That’s my girl,” Mira said, her dark eyes fierce. She glanced over at the bartender, and her face lit up. “Why not get your mind off Liam Beck. I know!”
“What?”
“Go kiss that bartender.” Mira nodded over at the floppy-haired server who had a silver martini shaker high above his head. He was no Beck, but he was cute. Kind of. In a slightly-out-of-shape, cuddly way. But, on the bright side, he probably wasn’t the type to go free-climbing up one of the highest peaks in the Rockies, without even the thought of a harness. The bartender was one hundred percent nonthreatening. Not like Beck, whose flick of a single eyebrow offered a whole menu of dangerous options. The bartender did have kind eyes, and Allie liked the flannel shirt he wore. He seemed nice. Maybe after Beck, nice was what she needed. Though, her body rebelled at the thought. Her body didn’t want nice.
“I couldn’t,” she said, laughing self-consciously.
“Why not? I bet he won’t think you’re boring. Because you’re not. You will knock his socks off.”
“No, I won’t!” Allie laughed.
“I dare you.” Mira’s red lips slipped into a devious grin. “I double dare you.”
“Mira. Come on. We’re not in third grade.” She didn’t need to prove anything. She knew who she was. But she also knew that the one weekend she’d spent with Beck had kept her head spinning for two months straight. Nothing quite seemed normal.
“No, and hold that thought—my boss wants something.” Mira nodded over to a dark-haired man in his forties who was signaling her. “Probably wants to make sure we have extra bottles of his favorite champagne. I’ll be right back. Meantime… Get on that bartender, would you?”
Allie was tempted. She glanced over at Channing, who was practically rubbing herself on Beck like a cat.
Why the hell not? How did she even know if she didn’t like “nice” until she tried it? Maybe the cure for Beck was to hop into bed with his exact opposite. And she was no coward. She wasn’t going to let Beck run her out of the bar. That would mean he won.
“Well, then.” Allie took a deep breath and slipped off her new glasses, putting them in her pocket. “Looks like I’m going to do this.”
“Atta girl,” Mira called over her shoulder.
BECK SAW ALLIE move from the corner of his eye. He was only half listening to Channing. She loved talking about herself, and while she found the subject endlessly fascinating, Beck most certainly did not. He wanted to head right back to Allie. She looked tired. Worn down. Had he done this? Guilt pricked the back of his neck, feeling like the scratchy edge of a clothing tag he’d forgotten to cut out. If he didn’t know better, Allie looked heartsick and he hated himself. He knew she couldn’t handle casual, but he’d gone in anyway. It was just that…he couldn’t resist her. That was the problem.
If he were truly honest with himself, those two days with Allie in that snowbound lodge had blown his mind. He couldn’t even say that if he had to do it all over again, that he’d do anything differently. Afterward, he’d spent weeks dreaming about her petal-soft skin, and the fact that he’d never in his whole life had a woman so attuned to him, so willing, so completely focused on the moment. Plus, he practically sneezed and she came. Once, twice…and again, and again and again. And none of them faked. That was the amazing part. They were one hundred percent real, just like Allie herself. Most of the women he took to his bed seemed to be only there to star in their own personal porn, acutely aware of which angle looked best for them, as if performing the whole thing for some imaginary audience, but Allie wasn’t like that. Allie was carefree, completely authentic. Because of that, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever met.
But he’d crossed a line he’d promised he’d never cross with her. She’d been one of the few women he’d managed to be friends with and he’d gone and let a little wine and a blizzard get in the way of his good judgment. All he’d been trying to do was minimize the damage afterward. He thought if he made himself scarce it would somehow be easier. Sure, for him, but also for her. She could recover and they could both pretend those two days never happened. Maybe, even, after a little time, they could be friends again. Because what was he going to do? Settle down? Ask her to marry him? Have two kids?
Marriage, kids, a picket fence—those were never going to be in his future. He had too much Beck blood in him. Becks didn’t do families. Or when they did, they did them all wrong.
He’d disappeared for her own good, but it looked like she’d done a lousy job of recovering. And it was all his fault. It didn’t look like she was thriving. Sure, she was as gorgeous as ever, especially with the new hair—yellow and red like a single flame—and those sexy AF librarian glasses. God, they made her look razor sharp and…so delectable. But the faint circles under her eyes told him she wasn’t sleeping, and her too-slim hips told him she wasn’t eating enough. Beck knew that when she was stressed, she didn’t eat. Like during her busy time at work last year when he’d have to practically force-feed her dinner, because she fretted so much about her deadlines that she forgot she needed food to fuel her. Who was making sure she ate now? Her cheekbones were sharper, her waist thinner than usual. She needed to eat, that
