Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)(71)

Hair almost like mine, but scruffy, dull, and boring, just like him.

This man’s hair is more of a copper brown than Willa’s bright red.

Tall, so he can glare down his nose at you.

Okay, he’s about my height. Six-foot three or so, which I guess is tall enough to “glare” down his nose at Willa.

Green eyes like mine, but darker like money—his favorite thing.

I chuckled at that, but I can’t see his eye color in the dim club. He’s got a green V-neck T-shirt on, though.

Decent fashion sense but clearly trying to dress like he’s salt of the earth when he’s actually a stuffy billionaire.

Jeans. Scuffed boots. Some bracelets adorn his wrists. Leather strap on one side. Beads stacked over a Rolex on the other.

I can’t help but chuckle to myself at Willa’s description of him. It’s so … Willa. And yet, I feel like it helped me pick him out.

“This way,” I murmur against Bailey’s ear as I move us toward the two men who are deep in conversation.

The man’s head turns as we approach, and up close I can tell that he does, in fact, have an unusual eye tone. More jade-like than Willa’s golden moss.

“Ford?” I ask, inclining my head slightly while squeezing Bailey’s hand.

He looks me over swiftly before doing the same to Bailey. I have to stop my brain from going feral every time a guy lays his eyes on her. But I’m not above admitting there’s a suave energy around Ford Grant that I’m pretty sure I don’t possess. And I wonder if Bailey likes it.

His gaze doesn’t linger, though. There’s nothing inappropriate or rude about his gaze.

“You must be Beau.” We stick our hands out, giving each other a firm shake. “And Bailey,” he says, turning to her. She looks startled when he shakes her hand, like it’s alarming to her that someone would want to shake her hand at all.

“Nice to meet you both.” Ford smirks. It’s not a relaxed, laid-back kind of smile, but it’s not the scowl and grunt Willa prepared me to expect. “I’m sure my sister only sang my praises to you,” he says as he turns and unhooks the red velvet rope. “She’s got a real knack for that.” He snorts and gestures us through.

I chuckle. “A special way with words, for sure. But I know she means well. Still, makes me wonder what she said about us.”

He grins now, pointing at a table for us along the dropped dance floor. “I believe the text message I received mentioned her GI Joe brother-in-law and his jailbait fiancée.”

Bailey gasps and covers her mouth to stifle a giggle, the massive engagement ring on her finger sparkling as she does. I just shake my head.

Fucking Willa.

“For what it’s worth,” Ford continues as Bailey and I slide into our seats across from each other, “I think you make a lovely couple and my sister belongs in a straitjacket.”

Now it’s Bailey’s turn to bark out a laugh.

Ford winks at her. “And you can tell her I said that.” Then he knocks a couple times on the table and says, “You two have fun. Need anything, just let me know. I’ll probably be hiding in my office, so I don’t have to listen to fucking dance music all night long, but you can ask Karl there at the entrance to ring me.”

“Thanks for—” I stop because Ford is already walking away. I chalk him up to being abrupt and all business, but not quite the raging asshole Willa made him out to be.

“Wow, the genes in that family are something else,” Bailey says appreciatively while watching Ford walk away.

It rankles me more than it should. I straighten and give her a pouty glare.

She gives me wide eyes back. “What?” She lifts her left hand, waving her fingers to show off her ring. “I’m engaged, not dead. And you’d have to be dead to not notice that—”

“Bailey.” I stare at her flatly, and she just smirks.

“Jealous?” Her lips curve up, and I know she’s teasing me.

I swallow and hear the crackle of it in my ears. “Yes.”

Her already big eyes go wider. “Really?”

It annoys me she thinks no man could be jealous over her. That she’s learned to view herself as so undesirable I wouldn’t feel threatened by someone else.

To be frank, it’s a new feeling for me too. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s rearing its ugly head because of the nature of our relationship. The fakeness. Because I’ve never been insecure in this part of my life.

But I don’t tell her that.

I lean over the table, elbows pressed to the flat surface with my forearms crossed, and say, “If you want someone to eye-fuck, I’m right here.”

I expect her to be taken aback, but she’s not Chestnut Springs Bailey tonight. Instead, she leans in closer. “And what if I want someone to actually fuck?” She spits the words out and they land on me like rat-at-at-at from the spray of bullets in combat.

Of course, an unwanted intruder approaches the table. “Hi! I’m Dani! I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get started for you two?”

Bailey and I stare off for another beat or two before we both give into our polite instincts and turn our attention on the girl.

“I’ll have a margarita on the rocks,” Bailey answers smoothly, like she didn’t just challenge me to fuck her.