Or maybe just Beau has. Me? I still obsess.
I try to cover for the way I’m ogling all eight of his abs by snapping, “You know you could set your own alarm, right?”
He follows me out, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “But I prefer to be woken up by you.”
I roll my eyes, in frustration. I try to be nice to Beau, a confidante, a support to him, and honestly, it feels like I really am his fiancée in all the ways except the sex way.
The further we get from that night without him addressing it, or touching me, or flirting with me, the more it feels like it never happened.
We swim, and some nights we talk a lot.
Tonight, we don’t. I don’t know if it’s because we’re both beyond tired or if something has shifted between us.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he says as we slip naked into the water.
I suppose by now we could start wearing swimsuits, but we don’t. I don’t even feel like I’m being a creep now when I stare at his body.
In fact, I stare longer. So does he. Neither of us seems to be uncomfortable with the staring. I don’t know if it’s because he likes what he sees or doesn’t particularly care about what he sees.
And I’m too chickenshit to ask.
“So are you,” I reply, pushing out to the deepest point of the river where I can’t touch. This is where I force my legs to cycle and work so that when I get back to the house, I’m tired enough to crash back out.
“Been thinking,” Beau replies.
“Thinking is exhausting.” I chuckle softly, feeling the swell and pull of water as he moves close to me.
Super close.
So close our knees bump.
“It is. I went back to it lately. After our swims. I imagine all the things I could do and how I’ll handle it. How I’ll tell my family.”
I watch him, nodding slowly. He’s been more reliable around the ranch, helping Cade and his dad. I guess that bit of unfiltered tough love did him some good after all.
“Part of what wakes me up is the sensation of my feet burning. I scorched them when I walked through that fire to get back through the tunnels. They were so mangled, so infected that I was sure the infection would kill me. I may have saved Micah, but in the days that followed, when we holed up in that cave? He took care of me.”
“You ever talk to him?”
Beau nods. “Yeah, we email now and then. I think I’d like to visit him sometime.”
“You should,” I agree.
The hush of the quiet night stretches between us.
“How’s the job hunt going?” His unwavering gaze never leaves mine. I’m not dumb enough to think he doesn’t know how it’s going. I’d tell him if anything came of it and me never bringing it up is a dead giveaway.
“It’s going.” I refuse to be all woe is me about it.
“I think we need to go out. Be seen together more. We kinda hide out at the bar and at our house.”
Our house startles me.
“It’s not enough. We need to sell it.”
“But you’ll win the bet if I don’t get a job.”
“What bet?”
My eyes roll. “The one where you bet me that being associated with you wouldn’t help me get a new job. You knew then I was a lost cause. It’s looking like you were right.”
“I don’t remember that.”
His intentional ignorance irritates me, and my hands swish through the water, pushing a wave of it at him. “The bet? The deal? The fake engagement? The we’re not having sex? I’ll take you to a hospital if you keep floating there, pretending you don’t remember.”
“I remember it differently. I remember thinking that you didn’t need my name or my association to get a job because you were smart and capable and qualified on your own. I remember thinking there’s no way people would hold your family name against you that thoroughly. Now I know that this town is a lost cause and you’re too good for it.”
My chest goes tight, and a prickling sensation takes root beneath my eyelids. No one has ever said anything like that to me.
Ever.
I clear my throat. “Okay, well, be that as it may, you must still want to win the bet.”
He waves me off casually, even though the words he says next feel anything but casual. “I’ve never wanted to lose a bet so badly in my life. Is it even a bet, Bailey? What were the terms? What did I get if I won?”
I blink, trying to think back. Was there really nothing in this for him? That couldn’t be.