Maid For Beckett Catching The Baseball Legend’s Heart novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

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While I made breakfast, Beckett went upstairs to the shower, leaving Maple, Storm, and River sprawled on the kitchen floor like they were supervising me. His fridge and pantry needed serious restocking, but I still managed to throw together breakfast sliders–bacon, eggs, and a side of sliced fruit. I was pouring fresh orange juice when I heard footsteps behind me.

Great. He was fast. Too fast. I had been counting on him taking his sweet ass time so I could disappear before he came back down. He did warn me to get out of his way.

“I’m almost done, sir.” I said, setting the glass aside. I turned, holding it out–then nearly dropped it.

Beckett stood on the other side of the island, arms folded, bare chest on full display like he was the king of the world. Which, honestly, he is. His hair was damp, droplets glistening on the tips and disappearing against a hard line of muscle. His skin was inked—a massive hawk stretched across his left chest, talons gripping a baseball, eyes blazing. There was a Latin inscription across his shoulder, sharp and ancient–looking.

My mouth turned into a desert.

He smirked, cutting my ogling short when he said, “Done ogling?”

I snapped out of it and cleared my throat, chest puffing out because he had just caught me red–handed. “Your breakfast is ready.”

His gray eyes didn’t just look at me–they pinned me. Sharp. Assessing. A little annoyed, but something else flickered there for half a second, gone before I could name it.

“I can see that,” he said flatly.

O–kay. Good talk.

I shifted awkwardly, trying to figure out whether I was supposed to walk out or evaporate. The massive kitchen suddenly felt small. He pulled a high chair; it shrank under his huge physique, moving slowly as he lifted the silver lid off the plate. He stared at the sliders as if he were evaluating their crimes, scrutinizing the food, debating if I would really poison him.

“Is something wrong?” I asked quietly.

He released a low, almost inaudible growl. Instead of answering, he ignored the cutlery entirely and picked up a slider with his bare hand, taking a bite.

I couldn’t look away.

I mean, who could? This man makes mundane tasks look like an act of god. His lips closed around the bread, his jaw flexing, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Why was eating suddenly illegal to watch?

I tried to breathe normally and failed miserably.

He grumbled something into his food, as though cursing me.

“Huh?” I blinked. Smooth, Andi. Real smooth.

His eyes snapped up, his irritation sharpening. “I said, Where is my fucking coffee?”

Right. Coffee. Coffee, he wants coffee. Get it together, Andi.

“Oh! Coffee! Yes!” I spun around, almost tripping over my feet as I searched for the coffeemaker.

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Chapter 8

Get a grip. He’s a human, not a Greek god carved out of irritation and protein shakes.

10 vouchers

I found the coffee and busied myself at the machine, staring out the window while the soft purr calmed my stampeding heart. When it finished, I debated asking how he liked it… Then chickened out and just made it how I usually prepare Mom’s.

“Here’s your coffee-“I stopped, blinking.

The platter of food was completely empty.

I stared at it. Then at him. Did he eat everything in one go? I mean, I’m happy he liked my cooking.

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Uhm… here.” I put the coffee on the counter, still confused.

“I gave it to Storm,” he said, jerking his chin at the husky.

Storm perked up, confused that his master was pointing fingers at him when it was pretty clear Beckett gobbled everything up.

A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. “Right. Of course. I’m glad you liked my cooking, Storm,” I said, winking at the husky. Storm wagged his tail, tongue lolling out as he waited for his next compliment.

Beckett stood, taking the coffee cup; his fingers dwarfed it. “Once you’re done here, go to the city and buy groceries.”

I froze mid–cleaning. He pulled a folded paper from his jogger pocket and set it on the island. I unfolded it and felt my soul leave my body.

“This is… all of it?”

“You got a problem with that?” His tone was pure frost.

This list could feed a small village,‘ I wanted to comment, but kept it to myself. I have to keep in mind that he is still my employer, no matter how annoying he is. I swallowed hard and wanted to pull my hair from the roots when my gaze came across a neon green ball that made my back ache. “You want me to buy tennis balls?”

He didn’t blink. “It’s on the list,” he said, as if explaining things to an idiot.

“Okay, but a basketball? A Christmas tree?” I stared at him, baffled. Christmas is four months away, and he wants me to buy a freaking tree now? I’m surprised he didn’t indicate a six–foot–tall tree.

He shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I need those.”

No, he didn’t. He’s just being creative in torturing me.

“If you can’t run a simple errand, then it’s probably best if you quit,” he said. “Now”

My blood simmered. Nope, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me break. I lifted my chin and smiled sweetly “I’m buying these with what money?” I asked, raising the list.

His smirk was slow, taunting, and then he set a black card on the counter.

Show–off.

“Do you have a car I can use?” I asked, matching his smirk. “Or should I take a cab? Because I’m not walking to the city and back with a Christmas tree under my arm.”

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2:16 pm

Chapter 8

PW

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He chuckled, low and amused. God, why was his laugh hot? It should be illegal for assholes to have nice laughs. “I want every damn thing on that list here before sundown. Think you can handle that?”

I held up the list, accepting the challenge. “Count on it, sir.”

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