Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)(16)

“Because it would get my family off my ass about how I’m doing, and where I spend all my time, and all that other overbearing shit they constantly ask me about. And I love a competition. What do I get if I win?”

“I haven’t agreed to this yet.”

Yet. I’ll take that.

Her white teeth drag across her bottom lip as she turns the idea over in her head.

I give her more to consider. “If you’re right, you’ll get everyone in town off your back for however long it takes you to get out of here. Maybe you can even get another job that pays better.”

“People won’t believe this.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re like town royalty. And you’re … how old are you? You’d never go for me.”

Wrong.

As soon as the thought springs up in my head, I shove it away. I sidestep every part of myself that knows there’s a self-serving aspect to this arrangement.

Every part of myself that knows I don’t care about the bet at all. I keep telling myself I am in control when it comes to Bailey.

I want to have control.

But I don’t.

“I’m thirty-five. And I’d definitely go for you.”

Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m losing it tonight, running on the familiar sensation of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Flush with the confidence that the old me possessed.

She tears her gaze away, staring down the river, and a shiver runs through her.

“Shit, you must be cold.” I sense her gaze back on me, tracing my outline in the dark. “Why don’t you get out?”

“Because I’m not wearing anything.”

My heart crashes against my ribs before coming to a screeching halt.

“I won’t look.”

Her head tilts. “Why don’t you get in?”

“Why?”

Her lips twitch. “So I can see what I’m signing up for. Are you husband material, Beau Eaton?”

“Probably not.” I smirk. “But if you want to show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

She doesn’t respond. She just stares. It feels like an entire conversation passes between us in the dark river alley.

Knowing I won’t follow through with that challenge, I drop her gaze and turn my back to the water. Cutting the thread pulled taut between us. Not wanting to be that guy. She’s vulnerable right now, and my control is horribly frayed.

But I find myself desperately hoping she’ll humor me and go for this arrangement. On paper, it seems like she’d get more out of the arrangement.

But off paper … I’d be the winner.

Water swishes against her legs as she gingerly makes her way to shore. I wait with bated breath for her to respond.

“Ouch!”

My instincts spin me on the spot to make sure she’s okay, and I catch a quick glance of her bare ass. A tan line from where her bikini bottoms must sit. A trim waist and toned thighs. My pulse skyrockets, my dick grows hard, and I turn away quickly, hoping she doesn’t realize I saw anything. Her curves are already branding themselves into my brain, and I fail at stopping myself from imagining how it would feel to hold her, grip her ass as I got lost in her. One cheek in each—

“You okay?” My voice comes out thick and strangled as I shut that line of thought down.

“Yeah. Just a sharp rock.”

There’s a rustle of clothes and then silence.

“You ever going to turn around?” she calls from the other side of the creek.

“I was trying to be polite,” I say, propping my hands on my hips as I turn to face her.

She’s dressed now, and too far away for me to decipher her facial expression.

“Is that why you already looked at me?”

“I didn’t—”

“I saw you. Don’t have to be special ops to notice someone whipping around that quickly. You’re rusty, Beau Eaton.”

“I didn’t mean to.” I drop my head. “You said ouch, and I—”

“Thought you’d come save me?” Her statement comes out lighthearted, but it hangs heavy between us. Like we both know what this is.

I offered my last name because she looks like she needs someone in her life right now. And, shit, it might be time for me to admit that I need someone too.

I don’t address that, though. Instead, I ask, “Are you going to take the bet?”

Her eyes land like heavy weights against my skin. I can’t see them clearly, but I swear I can sense her internal struggle.

“I’m going to sleep on it. Meet me here tomorrow night.”

“Okay.” I nod, fingers squeezing against my hip bones as if that might quell the itch in them.

She turns to walk away, loose cotton shorts creasing under each butt cheek. The ones I’m going to try not to think about while I …

“I’ll bring a bathing suit next time. Might help with your self-control.”

I chuckle to myself.

“Hey, Beau, you never answered my question earlier.”

“What question?”

“Have you had anal sex?”

I bark out a laugh. That was not what I was expecting. At all. And I figure, what’s the point of lying? “Yeah. Once.”