Maid For Beckett Catching The Baseball Legend’s Heart novel Chapter 159

-Andi-

I woke up late.

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Not the pleasant kind of late, where you stretch and feel rested and the morning light is doing something pretty through the curtains. The kind of late where your body feels like it lost a fight with the mattress, your head is pounding at the temples, and the first thing you feel before you’re even fully conscious is that dull, stubborn ache sitting right in the center of your chest.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time. Glaring. Thinking.

Everything hurt. My head, my back, my pride, and I can’t do anything about it.

The worst part was that I didn’t even fully understand why I was hurting. Nothing happened. Beckett had been a perfect gentleman. He’d given me a forehead kiss and a good night and gone to his own room, and I had gone to mine, and everything was completely, totally, maddeningly fine.

So why did I feel like this?

I didn’t have a good answer, and I’d been lying here long enough that my back had started to protest. I pulled the pillow over my face, anyway.

Just the thought of walking out there and crossing paths with him made my stomach turn over. Not in a bad way, which was somehow worse. My body had not gotten the memo that we were supposed to be composed and professional and absolutely not affected by a man who called us baby girl and then walked away like it was nothing.

I stayed in bed until hunger made the decision for me.

It was almost noon when I finally peeled myself off the mattress, shuffled into the bathroom, and did the bare minimum to look like a functioning human being. I was starving the kind of starving that makes you slightly irritable and a little lightheaded- and my back ached from too many hours of lying still, but none of that compared to the anxious thud of my heart as I eased open my bedroom door.

I tiptoed out into the hallway, like a freaking burglar that didn’t want to wake up the owner of the house.

I exhaled slowly and crept forward, scanning the kitchen – empty. The living room – empty. I even checked the balco squinting against the bright midday light. No one.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I told myself I was relieved. Obviously, I was relieved. This was ideal – I could eat in peace, collect myself, without w Beckett would notice the sleeplessness and restlessness in my face.

But then I noticed his bedroom door was slightly open, and I pushed it just enough to look inside.

His bed was made, as if he’d never been there at all.

My face fell before I could stop it.

Beckett was gone,

I checked the kitchen counter for a note, my phone for a message, and the coffee table for anything at all. Nada. He’d let without a word, and I stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, feeling lost, confused, and abandoned.

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Chapter 159

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My stomach growled loudly, so I finally forced my body to work. I moved through the kitchen on autopilot, and somewhere between the eggs and the toast, I had forgotten why I was hurting when I woke up.

–

After brunch, I washed my plate, dried it, put it away and then looked around the penthouse and thought: I need to do something with my hands or I am going to lose my mind.

So I started cleaning. I scrubbed counters, wiped down surfaces, and ran a mop across the floors until they gleamed. I polished the furniture. I straightened every cushion and organized the bookshelf by height because apparently that was something I was doing now. I moved through every room until I couldn’t think about anything apart from the soreness in my muscles.

When I was done, the penthouse was spotless from corner to corner, and through the floor–to–ceiling windows, the sky had gone gold and amber. The sun was already low on the horizon, ready to end the day.

stood at the balcony door for a moment and thought: I cleaned an entire penthouse because of a man. I needed to have a erious conversation with myself about my coping mechanisms.

went to start dinner instead. I was halfway through chopping carrots when I heard the front door.

kept my eyes on the cutting board, hearing every sound coming from the man who just walked in.

Hi.“,

looked up.

Beckett was standing just inside the entrance, holding three shopping bags, designer brand names printed across the paper. He was in casual attire, hair a little finger–mussed, and he was smiling at me like I was exactly what he’d been hoping to find when he walked through the door.

Something in my chest did a stupid, traitorous thing.

Hi,” I said back, forcing my voice into something breezy.

He set the bags down on the minibar and came straight to the kitchen, and before I could say anything, his arms were round my waist and his face was buried in the crook of my neck, and I felt the featherlight touch of his lips on my skin.

giggled. “I’m sweaty,” I said, trying to create some distance between us, which was futile because Beckett simply pulled me loser.

You’re making dinner,” he observed, his voice warm against my skin.

Yeah.” I hated how soft my own voice sounded. How relieved. I hadn’t realized how much tension I’d been carrying all day antil it started to ease. “It’s dinnertime.”

It is?” There was something playful in the way he said it.

Before I could respond, he reached around me and lifted the knife and the half–chopped carrots gently from my hands, setting them aside, and then he turned me around slowly, until my back was against the kitchen counter and he was standing right in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head up to look at him.

My heart was starting to go mad in my chest.

This was what I had been circling around all night, all morning, all day. This exact proximity, this warmth, that attention he was giving me. I want all of it.

“Yeah,” I whispered, because it was all I could manage. I was trying very hard to maintain eye contact and not think about

how close he was.

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