“Nah, probably not. He doesn’t get into town much, the old hermit.”
“Talking about Alex?” a husky, feminine voice spoke up from behind Esme. She turned and came face-to-face with a tall, lean young woman with dark hair styled into a faux hawk, the sides braided toward the top of her head. She looked like an extra for a movie about Vikings or the lead guitarist in a punk rock band.
Beau’s jaw tightened, but then he smiled, making Esme wonder if she’d imagined his irritation. “Yeah,” he replied.
“I’m Eris. Beau’s sister.” She snickered.
“Oh, hey, nice to meet you. I’m Esme.”
“So I’ve heard,” Eris replied.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” Beau said.
“Well, what kind of sister would I be if I didn’t pop in to check on my brothers? Alex told me where to find you.”
“I’m sure Alex could use the company more.”
Eris frowned. “Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to skate alone. See ya after the date.” She glided ahead, punctuating her departure with a flawless quadruple Lutz jump.
“Lovebirds?” Esme slanted a glance up at Beau. “Date?”
“She’s a pest, what can I say?”
“You talked about me to your sister?”
“I mentioned you, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled, amused by his discomfort.
“Anyway, back to our conversation.”
She raised her brows at him. “We were having a conversation?”
He scowled and bumped his hip into hers. “We were. I was gonna ask about you. You only up here for college?”
“My grandmother lived in town. She was an art history professor over at the college, and I guess there wasn’t any doubt about where I wanted to enroll.” She brightened as she thought of her grandmother, visiting the museums and traveling abroad with her. They’d traveled to Paris together one summer, and from there backpacked their way to Italy. Every beautiful moment had been seared into her mind, memories of a fond time with a wonderful woman.
“So that means you’re probably the artsy type, huh?”
“Something wrong with that?”
“Nope, it just means you can probably do more than draw a stick figure like me.”
Skating backward, Beau weaved in and out of the crowd without ever seeming in danger of crashing into anyone. She envied his perception of his surroundings, or his luck, whichever one was great enough for a guy of his size to maintain extraordinary grace.
Five years of figure skating lessons, and she’d never felt as confident as he appeared.
She could have let him go and continued her own leisurely skate, but instead she pushed herself forward and caught up to him.
“You can’t draw that bad.”
Beau smirked. “Trust me, princess, there’s not an artistic bone in my body, but you’re more than welcome to find that out for yourself if you’d like. I think my younger brother stole all the creative genes.”
“Younger brother? Sorry, from what you said, I assumed he was the older one. Or do you have more than one?”
“Nah, I got several, but I was referring to Alex. I just call him an old man because he acts like one. He’s boring. Doesn’t go out in public, doesn’t have any friends.” He edged in closer and slipped an arm around her waist, and then he twisted them both into a controlled spin. Esme grabbed at his sweater to keep her balance, which only brought her in closer.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t bite. Come join me at the Hot Spot.”
“I don’t know…”
“Seriously. All that skating has me ready for a pizza, and I’m down for sharing. It’s not a date.”
Pizza. He said the magic word, an ideal way to celebrate the end of another semester, with gooey and hot, delicious cheesy pizza. Then she glanced across the skating rink to where Marie sipped cocoa while resting her feet on a bench outside of the rink, distracted with a hot tourist and oblivious to Beau’s presence.
“Only if my friends can come.”
“Deal.” He leaned down. “I promise I won’t take offense at you wanting a chaperone.”
She smacked his chest, which only made him laugh, but he released her waist and took her hand instead. They made one more circle around the rink before skating to the exit.
Ashley and Jordan had disappeared—likely visiting the restroom, but Marie was stuffing her face with a sack of hot candied pecans. The moment Esme stepped off the ice, her friend stared at their linked hands.
Esme tugged free from Beau’s grip.
“Who’s this?” Marie asked.
“Marie, this is Beau. Beau, meet my bestie, Marie.”
Marie’s mouth fell open. For a moment, she appeared to be incapable of operating her vocal cords, an awkward three seconds passing before she squeaked out, “You’re motorcycle hottie?”
Beau chuckled and offered her a leather-gloved hand. “That would be me. I hadn’t realized Esme talked about me.”
“Oh, well, you know how it is. She thought you were a serial killer who was gonna toss her in a sex dungeon.”
“Marie, I did not!” Esme hissed.
Beau laughed, a rich, deep sound that made Esme’s insides turn to liquid mush. Judging by Marie’s glazed look, she experienced the same.
“Sorry, ladies, no sex dungeons. I was thinking pizza and a pitcher of beer or something. You wanna join us?”
“Did someone say pizza?” Jordan reappeared from around the bleachers. He looked Beau over from head to toe and back again. “Who’s your friend, Essie?”
“Jordan, this is Beau. Beau, meet Jordan. The cute redhead behind him is Ashley. Don’t let her size fool you, she can put away an entire pizza on her own.”
“Hey,” Ashley said.
“Nice to meet you all.” Beau smiled. “So… pizza?”
“Yeah, that sounds great,” Jordan said. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem. I’ll meet you all there. Unless Esme wants a ride on my bike?”
“Oh, um, I’ll pass this time. Won’t your sister need the ride?”
“Nope. She’ll be fine. So, you game or not?”
Esme shook her head.
“Suit yourself. I’ll see you all there.”
The group all watched him go. The moment he was out of earshot, Marie turned on Esme and pinched her.
“Ow!”
Ashley placed the back of her hand to her brow and feigned swooning. “Oh my God, he’s gorgeous.”
“Totally drool worthy,” Jordan agreed. “Definite A plus on the ‘Would Wreck Him’ scale.”
“Pretty sure I told you both that already.”
“I know, but I mean…” Marie sighed dreamily. “He really is. He’s hotter than Luke, which is saying something, ’cause you know I like me a chocolate man.”
Esme rolled her eyes. “Sure, I guess, if you like the bad boy look. And can we please not refer to people with brown skin as food items?”
Marie fixed her with an unimpressed stare. “Uh-huh. Whatever, chocolate is delicious. C’mon, we better get moving before he thinks we ditched.”
They hurried through the process of changing out their shoes and tossing their skates in the car trunk. Marie drove, which meant Esme clutched the armrests and Ashley asked at least five times for her to slow down. Jordan zoned out while texting on his phone, unaffected by Marie’s NASCAR impression.
Beau already had a table, pitcher of beer, and a two-liter of soda. Marie claimed the spot beside him in the booth, but Esme took the seat across from him with Ashley and Jordan. Their feet bumped together.
“So, Beau,” Jordan began, setting aside his phone. “What do you do? ’Cause I know for a fact you aren’t a student. I’ve never seen you on campus, and I know everyone.”
“Guilty as charged. I, uh, work out of the country a lot. This is a bit of a long-overdue vacation. In fact, I’ve just returned from Afghanistan after wrapping up some shit in Iraq.”
&n
bsp; “Army? Marines?” Ashley asked.
“You could call me a contracted agent.”
Marie’s eyes lit up with interest. “Ooh, does that mean you can’t talk about what you do?”
Beau nodded, but the warm grin never faded from his face. “Pretty much. One of those, ‘if I told you, I’d have to kill you’ things. Besides, you’d never believe me even if I did say.”
“Wow, I’ve never met a mercenary before. That’s so cool.”
“I’ve also been a stunt advisor for a few Hollywood hits. I’ll be filming in New Zealand this summer.”
Their evening progressed into friendly banter over four shared pizzas. Beau charmed them all, funny and charismatic enough to win over even Ashley, the shyest of them all. The time flew by, and soon enough they were chased off by the staff so they could close up.
“Hope we see you again sometime, Beau,” Jordan said.
“Yeah. I’d love to learn more about those self-defense classes,” Ashley added.
“Anytime. Drop by the gym and I’ll set you up. I’m there every weekend, Tuesday, and Thursday.”
Beau walked them to the car parked in the lot. His motorcycle occupied a spot out front on the curb. And like a gentleman, he held the door open for Marie as she slid into the driver’s seat.
“Hey, Esme. Got a sec?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
Beau stepped away from the car and gestured her over. Jordan flashed her a thumbs-up before he got in the back seat. Esme rolled her eyes, but inside she had butterflies flapping around in her stomach. She followed Beau away a few steps and smiled up at him.
“I had fun tonight. You’ve got some good stories.”
“Told ya.” He smiled and reached over, adjusting the scarf around her neck. “Listen, I just figured I’d toss my hat into the ring in case this boyfriend of yours fucks up. And even if he doesn’t, I wouldn’t mind doing this again. I can keep my hands to myself. Completely platonic.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Men and woman have had friendships and nonsexual relationships for centuries, sweetheart.”
“You make a convincing argument.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you again soon. Oh, and Esme?”
“Yeah?”
“Were you really worried about being followed and thrown into a sex dungeon?”
“That last bit was all Marie, but yeah, I guess. Walking home alone at night can be scary. It’s been a long time since I took a self-defense class.”
“Come by the gym and I’ll teach you a few things to refresh your memory. I mean it. Here’s my number.” He passed her a card.
“We’ll see. Night, Beau.”
She hurried back to the car and scooted inside.
“Damn, girl, not even a goodnight kiss?” Jordan asked.
“We’re just friends. That is only my second time meeting him.”
“Didn’t you kiss Luke on the first date and second time you met him?” Ashley asked.
“Shut up.”
Marie dropped Ashley and Jordan off at the school dorms. He smooched Marie noisily on the cheek before hopping out and promising to give them a call later. Ashley slid out behind him with a quiet goodbye.
Marie waved out the window then backed out of the lot. She glanced over at Esme and smiled. “That was fun, right?”
“Yeah. Beau wasn’t half bad company.”
“Esme, he’s incredibly hot. Like panty-melting, makes you want to shove him into a closet and go down on him right the fuck now kinda hot. Like get boned in a dingy restroom in the club hot because you’ve had too many drinks and don’t think you’ll encounter that kind of hot again. Like sexier than Henry Cavill hot, and you know how I feel about that man in spandex. He’s a stunt coordinator. I bet he knows all those big actors.”
“Yeah, he is. And he seems like a nice guy. He said he came here to look after his little brother.”
“I wonder if the little bro is as sexy as him. Think it runs in the family?”
“Probably.”
“Since you have Luke, um, you wouldn’t mind if… maybe I took this one?”
A lie hung in Esme’s throat, heavy as an iron weight, displeasure gluing her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t, couldn’t make herself utter a blessing. Finally, the tension eased, and a suitable response followed. “He doesn’t belong to me.”
“That’s not the same as it being okay with you. I mean… you’ve never had two guys actively into you before like this.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“And I totally get it if you don’t want to let it go. I mean, maybe you’re waiting to see if Luke lasts and you wanna hold this guy on the shelf like a benched player waiting for his chance to bat at the plate.”
Esme sighed in relief, reminded not for the first time what an awesome best friend she had. “Do you mind holding off a lil? I mean, if he shifts his interest to you, that’s, you know, fine, but for now…?”
“I got you, girl. Besides, there’s always the younger brother, right?”
7
Marie applied Esme’s makeup in the resort restroom, her steady hand preferred when it came to drawing flawless cat eyeliner.
“I feel ridiculous.”
“Well, you look hot,” Marie said. “Luke may be a presumptuous douchebag, but the man knows how to shop.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“Uh-huh, says the girl who ended up with a meat sandwich she didn’t want. I know we forgave him for that, but I still… No wonder you want to hold on to Beau for a while.”
Esme rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “Did you see it yet?”
“See what?”
“The Alexander Smith piece.” The last minute donation had arrived while Esme was helping with the final preparations that morning. She’d practically fainted when she saw the name on the crate and rushed to rearrange the entire exhibit area to place it front and center as the star of the auction.
And then a second donation had arrived from Mr. Smith that shook her so deeply, affected her profoundly, she didn’t understand why. She’d stood for nearly a half hour inspecting what had become her favorite piece of work from him to date.
Esme wished more than anything that she had the money to purchase it.
“Ready to go mingle and convince people to spend money?”
“Let’s do it.”
Each item up for auction had a clipboard beside it for people to write down their bids. To maintain anonymity, participants received a number when they checked in for the event.
Esme, Marie, and five other students had the challenging task of encouraging guests to raise their bids throughout the evening. She made her first round of the room, pausing to speak with people she knew from town or the campus. Several of her professors were in attendance, as well as the elite of Ashfall. She recognized the mayor, several business owners, and the woman who owned the resort.
She wound her way back through the room to her favorite area—the sculptures. She had tried her hand at it once, but never managed to make anything that resembled the idea in her mind.
A shadow fell over Esme and blocked out the light to her left. She glanced up to see a large man wearing a tuxedo that must have been tailor made to fit the enormous breadth of his shoulders. He had the height of a professional basketball player and the build of a football pro, the rugged features of a war veteran, and the sad eyes of a lost puppy. A thick, pink scar emerged from his crisp white collar and twisted over his neck. Had someone once tried to cut his throat?
His brows were thick and heavy above eyes the golden brown of topaz chips, though for a moment, she thought they were red. Another scar slashed his right brow and crept into his hairline where the rest was concealed by a full, thick mane of blond hair.
Was he a war veteran? As it would be rude to stare, she stole glances at him out of the corner of her eye instead. He was missing a piece of his ear, and all his features appeared exaggerated—from his p
rominent brow to his strong jawline. The lantern jaw of a comic book hero matched his barrel chest. Despite those physical flaws, there was something more attractive about him than all the models, movie actors, and boy band artists she’d ever admired.
Although he wasn’t standing at his full height and gripped a cane in his right hand, he towered above her. “What do you think of the sculptures?” the man asked.
She startled. One heel skidded and turned, threatening to drop her to the floor, but a strong hand beneath her elbow steadied her. His grip was iron hard, his fingers scorching against her bare skin, calloused and rough as sandpaper.
But one touch lit a spark through her and raised the fine hairs on her arms. Her nipples tightened beneath the strapless bra, and she thanked any god who was listening that the consultant at the shop had insisted on a padded style to accentuate the girls.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, no, no, it’s not that. It’s these stupid new shoes,” she said. “I never wear heels this tall.” But she’d felt empowered and confident the moment she emerged from the dressing room in them.
“Well, you look lovely in them.”
“Oh, well, um, thank you.”
The stranger withdrew his hand and fell silent. His gaze lingered on her face without unsettling her, and each time he opened his mouth to speak, he only shut it again until he finally looked away.
“You asked me something about the sculptures?” she prompted.
“I wanted to know what you think of them.”
“Other than the fact we have more to auction off this year?”
A small smile upturned the corner of his mouth and softened his harsh features. “Yes. Do you have a favorite? A least favorite? I’m debating what to bid on.”
“Oh, well, in that case…” Esme took a small sip from her champagne flute and looked out over the gallery. “I wouldn’t say I dislike anything, but if I had to pick the one I like the least I’d have to say this one over here.”
She led the way over to a pedestal displaying a three-foot-high figurine carved from pink marble. A card placed before it named the piece Love Divine. The feminine construct had been donated by Alexander Smith, but it hadn’t wowed her in person like the other works of his featured in magazines or the dragon.
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