My new job.
“We’re going out,” Beau announces as he struts into his modern marbled kitchen. His jeans and V-neck T-shirt have no business clinging to his body the way they do.
I want to be that shirt.
I glance down at my cropped tank top and oversized sweats, rolled over and over at the waist. “We are?”
“Yeah. I’m taking you out.”
I look down again, wondering if he’s blind, because I am definitely not ready to go anywhere. I’ve got a celery stick in one hand, a jar of peanut butter in the other, and I’m leaning up against the kitchen counter having a snack.
“I’m good.” Going out in this town is a constant exercise in humility.
“Oh, yeah?” His eyes peruse me, licking over every inch of my body. Flicking every switch. Like electricity zipping through a circuit, I go from relaxed to highly aware of him in an instant.
I guess tonight I get the sexed-up version of Beau.
“Yeah. Every time we go out, it’s a huge spectacle with drama and whispers. I started at the gym today with Summer and worked a bit, so I’m all set.”
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.