Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)(69)

My sentiment hangs in the air between us, and his gray eyes flash. I’m all set.

We can both see that means we might not need this arrangement anymore. We can both see the point I just made flashing like a neon light between us.

We both pretend it’s not there.

“I’m not taking you out in Chestnut Springs. We’re heading into the city.”

That has me straightening, my eyes snapping to his.

“Why?”

He smirks. “For fun.”

His expression drips with promise, and I don’t know what to make of it.

“Just us?”

He nods. “Just us.”

“Why?” I ask again, mostly because I’m trying to figure out what this means. Where we stand. Beau has me all twisted up inside, and I should have known we’d end up confused. I should have seen this coming.

Once again, he gives me the same simple answer. “Because I want to, Bailey.”

“Well, I can’t go out like this.” I sniff and twist the lid back onto the peanut butter.

“Why not?” I detect his teasing tone, and the motion of him propping a hip against the kitchen island and crossing his arms, making his biceps bulge, draws my eyes.

Fuck, he’s hot.

“Because look at you.” I wave a hand over him. “You look like that, and I have to try to match you.”

“You do match me. And it has nothing to do with what you’re wearing.”

I have to turn away because I don’t know what to make of that sentence. All I know is I can’t meet Beau’s eyes in the wake of it, so I opt to put the peanut butter back into the pantry and give him my back.

I sense his gaze burning between my shoulder blades.

“What if I tell you I still don’t want to go?”

I feel him prowling closer, his voice dropping an octave as he adds, “Then I’ll have to do my best to be even more convincing.”

A shiver races down my spine. I’m talking a big game, but the prospect of going into the city with Beau, where no one knows us, where he’s not an Eaton and I’m not a Jansen …

It’s really appealing. Fun is a rare commodity for me, so I’m willing to give it a try.

Large hands land on my shoulders and he turns me around to face him. Then his fingers slide under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Bailey, I don’t give a fuck what you wear. You can wear that if you want. Won’t stop me from taking you out.”

My cheeks flush. He’s not Aloof Beau tonight. He’s … almost aggressive in saying what he wants. It has my chest fluttering and my stomach flipping.

“Not a chance. I’ll go change.” I force myself to sound unaffected, but I’m not sure it works. I would guess that my pink cheeks are a dead giveaway.

“And don’t wear a frilly little dress, Bailey. We’re taking my bike.”

The thought of spending an hour pressed up against Beau makes my cheeks burn brighter. Still, I hold my head high as I walk away, through the spacious house and toward the stairs that lead up to my room.

I’ve started keeping all my clothes there, even though my trailer is pretty much on his front lawn.

That’s another thing we haven’t talked about. The heat wave is over, and yet here we are. Still living together.

It feels a little like the straw house we built is starting to tumble.

I don’t need the air conditioning, and yet I’m still here.

I don’t need another job, and yet I’m still here.

I don’t need to go out with Beau tonight, and yet I do.

I hold him close, the wind whipping against us as we race down the highway into the city.

At every stoplight, he reaches back and rubs my calf until it turns green again.

And nothing about any of it feels fake.





29


Beau


Willa: Talked to my dickhead brother. Just drop your names at the door. His name is Ford Grant Jr., and you can ask for him if you run into any problems.

Beau: Junior?

Willa: Yeah. Emphasis on the junior. It’s his favorite.

Beau: For some reason I don’t believe you. But thanks, Wils. I owe you one.

Willa: Cool. Actually, you can pull the little hairs at the back of his neck and say it’s from me. He loves it.

Beau: I will not be doing that. But I’ll tell him you send your love.

Willa: Lol. Yeah. Tell him that. That’s even funnier.



It’s dark out by the time we hit the city. I got caught up with work today and didn’t make it back home until later than I thought I would.

Bailey presses against my back, her arms wrapped tight around my waist. She squeezes tighter every time we take off from a standstill, and it makes me want to stop and go all night.

I know she wasn’t super keen on the bike. In fact, her words were, “Don’t get us killed, soldier. Things are finally looking up for me.”

And then she swung a leg over and hung on for dear life.

I revel in the feel of her against my body, in the knowledge that she trusts me with her life. Cocooning her in my bed last night stuck with me all day, and I’m not above admitting part of the reason I wanted to do this tonight was to have her close again.

I want her to sleep with me again too. But asking for that with the way we designed our relationship feels too forward.