Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)(20)

“You’re entertaining, Bailey. Possibly even funny. You don’t exhaust me. You invigorate me.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I feel really fucking young.”

He ignores my jab and forges ahead. “Okay, so if you meet this person who you really want to have sex with, you’re going to tell me. And we’ll break it off.”

My eyes close. “I hate this conversation passionately.”

He laughs now. It’s deep and warm and makes me wonder how I’ll ever find someone else I want to have sex with when I’m spending all my time with Beau Eaton.

When my lashes flutter open, I pin him with my glare. “Same for you. If you meet someone who you actually like, you’ll tell me.”

“That won’t happen. But fine.”

He sounds so sure.

“Why not?”

“An actual relationship?” He flicks a hand over the table as though swatting a fly away. “You don’t see the shit I’ve seen and still believe a single thing is permanent. I saw the way it crushed my family when I went missing. I don’t want to put anyone else through that. Once you’ve been sent on your way with a shiny new reputation, it’ll just be me and my tea. I’ll never fall in love, won’t let myself.”

He holds the mug up in a cheers, but it’s not a happy one.

There’s a profound sadness—a profound loneliness—about the sentiment, and I don’t cheers back.

“When we break up, you have to do something awful,” I say.

His brow quirks in question.

“Well, if you dump me, you’ll be Poor Beau, who got swindled by the trashy Jansen girl. If I break up with you, I’ll be the she-devil who hurt Poor Beau. But if you do something shitty, everyone will forgive you and I’ll still get to walk away with my head held high.”

“Why do you care? If you’re leaving and never coming back?”

I breathe out a heavy sigh that leaves my lungs feeling almost painfully empty. “I’m just so tired of being the bad guy.”

“I’ll be the bad guy,” he says with a firm nod, not needing to think about it.

My chest flutters, but I press on. “How will we convince people it’s real?”

A sly grin graces his handsome face as his tongue traces his bottom lip. “Act like we can’t keep our hands off each other. Just follow my lead.”

“Right.” I force my breathing to remain calm at the thought of touching Beau. Kissing Beau. I’m accustomed to hard work, but this doesn’t seem like it’ll be a real hardship.

What are the fucking chances?

I brush a crumb that doesn’t exist off the table. This place is immaculate. “Sure. Cool. I could use the practice.”

A rough huff of air sounds from his side of the table, and I glance up to see him shifting uncomfortably.

“What about your family?”

His brow drops lower at the mention of the Eaton clan. “What about them?”

“Should we tell them? You all seem so close. Will that bother you?”

Beau drops his gaze and stares thoughtfully at the liquid in his mug. “That’s the thing, Bailey. I’ve been lying to them for years. And they’re just now figuring it out, I think.”

“What does that mean? Oh my god.” I gasp. “You’re gay, aren’t you? Everything makes so much sense. I’m totally cool with it, by the way.”

He chuckles, moving that sly, playful look over my face. “Bailey, I am very straight.”

I swallow. “Well, I can see how someone would think you weren’t.”

His head quirks, his stare unnerving. “Oh yeah? How so?”

I shrug, having to blink away to escape the pressure of … him. “Never seen you with anyone.”

“Been watching me?”

I blow a raspberry and roll my eyes. “Please, everyone in this town watches you.”

Strong fingers rap against the table as he fires back, “I’ve never seen you with anyone, either.”

I laugh, because of course he’s never seen me with anyone. “I suppose my extensive vibrator collection doesn’t prove much either, huh?”

He groans and shifts again. “Jesus, Bailey. You always just blurt shit like that out?”

I shake my head, trying to push my embarrassment back down. “Nope. I only seem to blurt stuff out to people I’m comfortable around. So, you. And maybe Gary.”

Beau drops his head into his hands, heels of his palms pressing into his eye sockets. “Please tell me you haven’t told Gary about your vibrator collection.”

I take a swig of my beer. “Don’t worry. He was hammered. I doubt he’d remember it.”

Beau’s head shoots up, an expression of shock painting his face. “Are you joking right now?”

I bite hard on the inside of my cheek. “No. I told him about the one that has all these different vibration settings and the one that has this little suction cup that attaches to the wall. Oh, and the one that straight up looks like a real dick but way, way bigger—” He leans across the table and covers my mouth to silence me.

In response, I hold my hands out, gesturing a good twelve inches as I widen my eyes. I’ll never admit it, but his palm against my lips has me fighting the urge to let my tongue trail over his skin. The pressure. The smell of him. My lips move ever so slightly against him, and his hand flies away. Then both come up to cover his eyes again.