Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)(52)

Without thinking too long about it, I drop my head closer and let a sliver of light through the door of our arrangement. An opening for her to kiss me.

“We should go,” she whispers, tilting her head ever so slightly. Her soft lips graze my rough stubble, and I’m transported back to that night at 2:11 when she came into my room. Those same lips against my chest. Her tight heat around my fingers. My utter lack of control to stop myself where she was concerned.

“Thanks for dinner.” The words filter back to me as she turns to slide herself out of the booth. Another delicate, feminine summer dress, this time in blue, trails behind her on the leather bench.

I swallow hard and follow her, muttering under my breath, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

With a stiff back, she twists the engagement ring on her finger while people stare. She’s uncomfortable. It’s written all over her body, which is why my arm is back around her in no time.

I hug her against my side as we walk through the restaurant. “Do it, sugar. Put your hand in my back pocket. You know you want to,” I murmur before pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

Someone gasps, followed by a trail of harsh whispers.

He’s been through a lot.

War changes people.

I’m sure it’s just a phase.

It makes me furious. It makes me want to lay Bailey in the middle of their table and kiss her senseless just to prove a fucking point.

But that would be impulsive.

So I don’t.

I kiss her hair again, and though I know she must have heard their cruel sentiments … she slides her hand into my back pocket, and we push out into the sunny summer evening.

The sounds of the fair filter down from the end of Rosewood Street. Buzzers buzzing, bells ringing, children screaming. The air smells like popcorn and cinnamon mini donuts. We follow that tantalizing scent down the sidewalk.

My arm slung over her shoulder, her hand in my pocket.

And all the way to the fair, neither of us draws away.





22


Beau


Harvey: Haven’t seen you lately.

Beau: Haven’t seen you lately either.

Harvey: Been busy.

Beau: Yeah? With who?

Harvey: You know.

Beau: No, I don’t. You haven’t told me a single thing.

Harvey: Rich coming from you.

Beau: So, anything you want to tell me, old man? About you? Your life? Any news to share?

Harvey: Nope. Not a thing. Mind your business.

Beau: Chicken.



I swing the oversized hammer over my shoulder one final time, bringing it down with every bit of power I can muster.

I channel every ounce of frustration that bubbles inside of me—that constant feeling of this life not being enough. Of never being satisfied.

I’m realizing I am deeply unsettled and constantly peeking around every corner for that little bit extra. That one thing that will give me some sense of peace.

I thought a good old-fashioned fair game would do the trick.

The hammer hits the pad, and the weight flies up to the top. The sharp ding of metal rings out around us, and the surrounding people watching cheer. I turn, all puffed up like a teenager showing off for his crush.

Except today it’s for my fiancée. I flex and kiss a bicep like a total tool. But I don’t care. The girl laughing at me makes it worth the embarrassment.

I grin at her. Bailey bites down on a smirk and rolls her eyes.

“Alright, kid,” the rough-around-the-edges carnie says. His mullet, which ends in a scraggly gray braid, sways as he waves at the wall of stuffed animals behind him. “Pick of the litter for you and your muscles.”

Some girl shouts my name, asking me to pick something for her, but it’s not Bailey’s voice, so I don’t bother giving her a glance. Instead, I analyze the wall of stuffed toys.

“The horse!” Bailey calls out to me.

I check it out, but it’s too small. I’m not letting her walk around the town fair with a tiny prize when I just made this game my bitch.

I’m not replacing her ripped horse with some cheap fair prize, either.

I take a step toward the end.

“Beau Eaton, don’t you dare pick something huge.”

I turn to face her now. She shakes her head at me as I walk backward, straight into the waiting arms of … a giant stuffed raccoon. The biggest toy they’ve got.

“Why not, future Mrs. Eaton?” I call back, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. “You love that massive rock I put on your finger, don’t you?”

“Beau.” I guess it’s her turn to use my name as a single-word scolding.

“You also like my massive—”

“Beau Eaton!” She rushes forward, clamping a palm over my mouth. Her eyes sparkle while her loose hair dances in the breeze—she’s fucking glowing.

“I was going to say motorcycle, sugar,” I mumble behind her hand. Then I turn out of her grip to the carny. “I’ll take the massive raccoon, sir.”

“Sir?” The man chuckles as he unclips the oversized stuffed animal. “Not sure I’ve ever been called a ‘sir’ before.”

When he hands me the raccoon, I instantly pass it over to Bailey, amused by the way it reaches from beneath her chin down to her knees.

“This is ridiculous,” she says, peeking around a furry shoulder.