Trusting His Promise (Love on Sanctuary Shores #5)

Chapter 23

“Amen.” Jo sighed as the prayer closing Bible study ended. She had enjoyed the discussion of Romans, but by the time she and Beckett had come upstairs from getting Sam settled in, the only place left to sit had been right next to each other on the love seat. She’d looked around for a moment to check that Lisa wasn’t here orchestrating things—and then she’d spotted Sadie, grinning that same grin Lisa had worn when she’d invited Beckett to Jo’s birthday party.

So there were two matchmakers?

Well, they were both going to be disappointed.

Still, she had to admit that sitting this close to Beckett for over an hour was starting to play strange tricks on her mind.

For one thing, his scent—something fresh and clean, as if he’d spent the day in the summer rain—kept trying to lure her closer to him.

For another, every time she shifted her position, her arm bumped against his, and a shower of unwanted sparks shivered up her arm.

And for a third, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had known something was wrong tonight. The way he’d looked like he’d tear apart anyone who dared hurt her little girl. The way he’d listened and comforted. The way his hand had grazed her back—so lightly that she’d spent the past hour trying to convince herself that it had only been her imagination.

“So.” Beckett turned to her as the others gathered up their Bibles and started chatting among themselves. “What did you think?” His eyes were eager, as if he hoped she’d been pleased by the study.

“It was really good,” she answered honestly. She hadn’t said much herself, but she’d loved listening to everyone else’s insights. “I thought you made a really good point about Romans 8:28 and how it’s hard to reconcile the promise that all things work together for our good with what we experience on a daily basis.”

“You did?” Beckett was watching her with an intensity that she hadn’t expected, and she felt her face warm, but she nodded.

“You didn’t think it made me sound like a . . . fraud?”

She considered tossing off a flippant, “Of course not,” but then considered the question. “No,” she said slowly. “A fraud would have no reason to wrestle with a question like that.” She hesitated. “I don’t think— I never apologized for what I said on the boat that day. I had no right—”

Beckett’s hand slid onto her arm, and she froze, delight and fear winding around each other in her middle.

“It’s okay,” he said simply. “I had given you plenty of reasons to question.”

She swallowed, still staring at his hand on her arm. Even through the sleeve of her sweater, it felt—

She jumped to her feet. “I should get Sam home. I don’t want her to be grumpy for school tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Beckett stood slowly, apparently planning to accompany her.

She waved him off. “I know the way.”

But he walked alongside her anyway. She supposed she couldn’t stop him—it was his house, after all. But she could speed down the stairs as quickly as possible, get her daughter, and make her escape.

Beckett easily kept pace with her, though he didn’t say anything.

Jo glanced at him once, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts.

Well, good. The less he thought about her, the better.

Not that she had any reason to believe he spent his time thinking about her.

“I was thinking—” he said as they reached the theater room.

Jo’s feet threw on the brakes, but her heart raced ahead.

“Maybe . . .” His eyes landed on hers and then skittered away. “Maybe we should do some sort of Bible theme for the trunk-or-treat. Noah’s ark or something.”

“Oh.” Jo blinked, trying to forget the foolish thing she’d thought he was about to ask. “Yeah. Maybe.”

She hurried into the theater room. She was halfway to the couch when Beckett’s words replayed in her head. Had he said we ?

“Time to go, Sammycakes.” Her voice was too high, and she swallowed a few times, hoping that would bring it back under control.

“It’s almost done.” Sam didn’t even look away from the TV. “Can we finish it, pretty please?”

“No, ma’am. It’s time for bed. You have school tomorrow.”

“I know. I won’t be grumpy, I promise. Unless I don’t get to see the end. That would make me really grumpy.” She crossed her arms, drawing a laugh from Beckett.

Jo shot him a look.

“Oh come on,” Beckett coaxed. “This is the part where Belle realizes the Beast isn’t so bad after all.” He dropped onto the couch next to Sam.

“You know this movie?” Sam asked, her eyes finally coming off the TV to stare at Beckett as if he were the coolest person alive.

Beckett shrugged. “I haven’t watched it as many times as you, but probably at least twelve. Maybe thirteen.”

Jo stared at him. That she could not picture. Unless a girlfriend had made him watch it.

The thought sent a prickle up her spine that she absolutely was not going to acknowledge.

“Come on, sit.” Beckett tilted his head at Jo and patted the cushion next to him.

Jo eyed it, crossed her arms, and moved to sit on the far side of Sam.

Beckett chuckled, and Jo couldn’t tell if it was because she had given in—or because he knew she was too afraid to sit next to him.

Sam rested her head on Jo’s arm and curled her feet up to Beckett, and Jo had a sudden flash—this was what her life could have been like if she hadn’t fallen for Jay.

She and her husband and their children would spend their evenings all curled up together on the couch watching a movie. Maybe they’d pop some popcorn—or get ice cream on special occasions. That husband wouldn’t be Beckett, of course—that was preposterous. But it would be someone who loved her. Who loved their children. Someone she could build a life with.

Jo sighed and closed her eyes. She would let herself live in that fantasy for a second.

But a moment later, someone was shaking her arm and whispering, “Jo. The movie is over.”

Her eyes shot open, but she had to blink a few times to clear her head. Why was Beckett standing over her? Had they really been holding hands and walking along the lake?

No.

She blinked again, suddenly recognizing the theater room. Which meant . . .

“How long did I sleep?” She tried to sit up, but Sam was still leaning on her.

“Only fifteen minutes or so.” Beckett spoke in a whisper, nodding to Sam. “It was cute. You both fell asleep at the exact same time. I tried to wake her up too, but she just curled into you more.”

Jo laughed. “Yeah, she does that. She’s an impossibly heavy sleeper. At least she’s not snoring. You should hear her sometimes.”

Beckett chuckled softly. “Does she get that from you or . . .” The unsaid words hung there, and Jo jumped off the couch as if he had poured a pail of cold water over her head. After she’d seen Beckett’s faith tonight, the last thing she needed was for him to see her shame.

“Sam.” She bent over and shook her daughter’s shoulder. “Time to go.”

Sam let out a half-snore, and Beckett’s laugh filled the space. “You weren’t kidding.”

Jo started to slide her arms under her daughter’s back and legs. Sam was getting a little big to carry, but if it was either that or stay here for the night—well, Jo would find super-strength if she had to.

“Let me do it,” Beckett said quietly, his hands landing on her arms and nudging her gently to the side.

Jo was too busy trying to ignore the goosebumps suddenly traveling her skin to fight him. He scooped Sam easily into his arms, and the girl snuggled into him.

Beckett looked down at Sam with a soft smile that threatened to melt Jo’s heart on the spot, and she turned her back to them to lead the way to the door.

The great room had mostly cleared out, although Maggie and Sadie and Andre were still chatting. They all said a quiet goodnight as Jo and Beckett passed through, and she could see the knowing looks they gave Beckett as he carried Sam for her.

They stepped out into the night—its chill air a welcome balm against Jo’s warm cheeks. When they reached the car, she opened the rear door for Beckett to slide Sam in. He positioned her as carefully as if she were a glass figurine, then fastened the seat belt around her.

“You weren’t kidding that she’s a heavy sleeper.” He smiled as he ducked out of the car but then frowned. “How are you going to get her home from the parking lot?”

Jo bit her lip. She hadn’t planned for that. They rarely drove anywhere—she and dad only kept their shared vehicle for trips to the mainland—and she had assumed they would be home well before Sam was tired. Otherwise, she would have stuck the wagon in the trunk.

“I guess I’ll carry her,” she answered. “It’s not that far.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Jo shook her head vigorously. That was the last thing she wanted. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

But Beckett was already jogging back toward the house. “Let me grab the van keys.”

Jo sighed and got in the driver’s seat. She could just leave without waiting for him. Not that it would do any good. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to find the town.

And besides, he was probably right. She wasn’t going to be able to carry Sam all the way from the parking area to their house.

She turned around and shook her daughter, calling, “Sam. Wake up!”

Sam snored, then groaned and leaned against the window.

Jo sighed in exasperation. It was probably for the best anyway, since if Sam woke now, she wouldn’t fall back to sleep for hours. And dealing with that didn’t sound like a fun way to spend the night.

Then again, neither did spending more time with Beckett.

No matter what her heart said as he came out of the house holding up his keys and a warm smile.

The weight of a child in his arms was unfamiliar to Beckett—but the opposite of unpleasant. He had the strangest feeling suddenly that this was what he was missing. What he needed.

A family.

Which made absolutely no sense since he’d seen the way families could fall apart in an instant. And he never wanted to experience that again.

But still . . .

Being out in the cool night air, walking next to Jo, carrying Sam, the soft sounds of the harbor providing background music . . . He had to admit that there was a certain appeal to it.

So ask her out, he urged himself. And this time don’t chicken out and ask about trunk-or-treat instead.

He half grunted at himself, and Jo looked at him. “Is she too heavy?”

“No, I was just . . .” He couldn’t do it, but whether that was because he was afraid she’d say no or afraid she’d say yes, he couldn’t tell. “Thinking,” he finished lamely.

“Oh.” She didn’t press for more, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

By the time they reached her house, he’d decided it was probably best to let it go. He would only be on the island a few more weeks anyway.

Besides, there was no reason to believe she’d say yes, even if he did ask—so not asking would save them both a heap of embarrassment.

Jo turned to him and held out her arms. “I can take her from here.”

Beckett shook his head. “It’ll be hard to hand her off.”

Jo pursed her lips but opened the front door to let him in.

“Up the stairs,” she whispered, bobbing her head toward the staircase to the right.

Beckett nodded and treaded as softly as possible up the steps, wincing as a few squeaked. But still Sam slept.

“Second door on the left.” Jo’s whisper came again, and he turned into the room she indicated, which had bright pink walls and princess decor. He eased Sam onto the bed, and Jo moved closer, pulling off her daughter’s shoes before tucking the blankets around her.

She bent over to press a soft kiss to Sam’s forehead, and Beckett’s heart squeezed. What would it be like to have someone love you like that? To love someone like that?

Jo turned away from the bed, then took a step back as if she hadn’t expected Beckett to still be there.

She led him down the steps, right back toward the front door, and his heart dropped a little.

Well, what had he expected? He’d offered to help her get Sam home, and he’d done that. Of course it was time for him to leave.

“Is that you, Jo?” Mr. Fletcher’s voice called from somewhere behind them.

“Yeah, Dad. I’ll be right there. I was just tucking Sam in.”

“How was your date?” Mr. Fletcher’s voice boomed again.

Jo’s face flamed the color of the rooster statue on the small table behind her, and Beckett stifled a chuckle.

“It wasn’t a date, Dad, it was Bible study,” Jo called back. “Sorry about him,” she muttered in an undertone.

“That’s quite all right,” Beckett assured her. “Actually, I was going to—”

“Did you ask him to go out yet?” the voice bellowed, and Beckett half expected Jo to spontaneously combust, the flames in her face raged so hot.

“Not yet,” she shouted, and Beckett raised an eyebrow, unable to contain a grin.

“You’re planning to ask me out?”

“No. Yes.” Jo blew out a loud stream of air, and a lock of hair on her forehead fluttered with the force. “For the Salmon Spectacular,” she explained. “It’s this weekend, and Dad’s not recovered enough yet and—”

“Count me in,” Beckett answered.

But Jo kept going. “I know it’s short notice, and I wouldn’t ask but—”

“I said I’d do it,” Beckett cut in again.

“We just got Dad’s hospital bill the other day, and there’s a pretty big prize for the tournament. I mean, we’d split anything we win, of course, but—”

“Jo.” Beckett snatched her gesturing hand out of the air and wrapped his fingers around it. “I’ll be there.”

She eyed him. “You don’t have to, you know. It’s a whole day out on the water. It’ll be cold and boring and—”

“You’ll be there, right?” Beckett very intentionally didn’t let go of her hand.

She nodded slowly.

“Then I stand by my answer. I’ll be there.”

“I— Okay. Thank you,” she whispered.

Beckett took a step closer, still clutching her hand. “You’re welcome,” he whispered back, his eyes suddenly tracing the soft outline of her lips.

Her eyes lifted to his.

“So.” Mr. Fletcher’s voice boomed, sending both Jo and Beckett scrambling backwards, her hand falling out of his. “Is he going to do it?”

Jo covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

Beckett grinned and called, “Yes, sir. I’ll be there. We’ll win this thing for you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mr. Fletcher called back.

Beckett turned to Jo, but she refused to look at him. Instead, she stepped past him and opened the door. “Thanks again.” Her tone had turned business-like, but she couldn’t hide the pink that still dusted her cheeks.

“You’re welcome.” Beckett let the back of his hand graze hers as he stepped out into the cool night. “See you soon.”

The door clicked behind him, and Beckett laughed out loud. A fishing tournament might not exactly be what he’d had in mind. But if it was the closest thing to a date with her that he could get, he’d take it.