Conceal

by Juliana Stone

  “Huh.”

  She eyed him through the mirror. “What does that mean?”

  “In spite of what you said last night, I don’t believe you.” He paused dramatically, his voice hitched an octave higher as he mimicked her. “I don’t want Beau Simon and I sure as hell don’t like him.”

  “Oh, you’re not going there—“

  But he was. “I think you’re all sexed up for Beau Simon.”

  Betty whirled around. “Okay, first off, why does everyone insist on calling him, Beau Simon like it’s one word. His name is Beau. We don’t need the Simon every damn time you mention him.”

  “Huh.”

  “Again, with the huh! Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind, Matt?”

  “Okay,” he said with a shrug. “I saw the way he looked at you last night. He’s hot for you and I don’t even know if he realizes it. Shit, I thought he was going to throw his fist at me when we walked by him. And while we’re on the topic of last night…you shoved your tongue down my throat in front of everyone, but I know it was for him. I saw the way you stared at him when you thought no one was looking. There’s something going on between you two. I don’t know what it is exactly, but I can tell you that it’s not going to end well unless you deal with it.”

  Her toe tapped along the wooden floors, the bottom of her cleat rapping like a drummer. “Deal with it,” she repeated.

  Matt nodded. “Deal with it.”

  “And what does that mean exactly?”

  “I don’t know.” Matt threw his hands in the air. “Maybe you should have sex with him.”

  “What?” Her horrified shriek didn’t make Matt so much as blink, but it sure as hell made Betty wince. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Yeah,” Matt said. “I am. Maybe you’re going at this all wrong. When is the last time you had sex with someone and you actually wanted to?”

  “I…” she stumbled over herself. “There was that guy…you know at the Christmas thing…”

  “You’re full of shit.” Matt’s eyes and voice softened. “There was no guy. There’s never been a guy. This is me you’re talking to Betty. Me.”

  When she said nothing, he prompted her. “Aren’t you sick and tired of the disconnect? Of using sex to control men so they don’t control you? You’ve wasted so much time and energy making sure you don’t get hurt that you forgot to live.”

  Pain and anger flushed Betty’s cheeks. Who the hell did Matt think he was talking to?

  Jesus. H. Christ.

  “The reason you were so hurt before is because that night with Beau meant something to you. It wasn’t just about him screwing up your chance to be in a movie. Not really. You let Beau Simon in,” he pounded his chest, hard. “And he hurt you. It hurt because it mattered.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “No, I haven’t. I think I’m seeing things real clear this morning and since that’s pretty much a fucking miracle, let’s learn something from it.”

  Betty wanted to punch Matt in the throat. He wasn’t making sense.

  “So,” she sputtered. “I should just bang Beau? Because…” She gestured wildly. “Because it went so well the last time?”

  “No,” Matt said. “Because it didn’t. Because that man makes you feel and take it from me, it’s fucking nice to see a spark of something in your eyes again. It’s been too long, Bets. The past needs to go away. Once and for all, don’t you think?”

  “I can’t believe you’re preaching to me about dealing with my shit when all you’ve ever done is bury yours. You’re a coward, Matt. A drunk, junkie, coward. So maybe when you clean up, maybe when you can get through a day without your buddy, Jack or Mr. Weed, maybe then you can give me advice. But for now, stay the hell out of my business.”

  The words jumbled and fell from her mouth before she could stop them and dammit, if tears didn’t poke at the corners of her eyes.

  “Jesus, now my makeup’s gonna run…and…” she whimpered. “I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean to say…I’m an idiot. Please don’t be angry.”

  Sometimes it felt like Matt was on borrowed time and it scared the shit out of her. His drinking was out of control, his drug use amped too. He refused to get help and she’d learned a long time ago that when pushed, Matt retreated. So, Betty didn’t push. She accepted him…all of him, but lately…lately he’d been worse than ever.

  She couldn’t lose him. God, she just couldn’t.

  He reached for her and she fell into him, his chin on top of her head, his arms tightening around her in a fierce hug. “I just want one of us to make it.”

  She didn’t say anything because the lump in her throat felt as big as a football. She didn’t deserve Matt, but God, she loved him.

  “I’ve got to grab a shower. I’ll meet you at the diamond later,” he said roughly.

  Betty slid from his embrace and reached for her ball bag. She pasted a smile that she didn’t feel to her face and whispered. “Okay.”

  She waited for Matt to slip into his boots, grab his jacket off her dresser and then she followed him down the stairs. He headed out the front door and she ran to the kitchen to grab an apple and some water.

  Her father was already at the table, eating his standby, Wheaties, with blueberries and raspberries—the breakfast of champions—while her grandfather was packing up a small cooler with drinks and snacks.

  She kissed her father on the cheek, warily waiting for some kind of derogatory comment, but nothing came and she breathed a sigh of relief as she reached for an apple from the fruit bowl on the table.

  “Are you planning on coming to the tournament, Gramps?”

  Herschel nodded, scratching his head as he gazed into his cooler. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s not every day that the likes of that there, Beau Simon, take part in something like this.”

  Beau Simon.

  “You know he has a first name, Gramps.”

  Herschel glanced over to her. “What was that?”

  Betty grabbed another apple. “Never mind,” and then nodded to her father. “Who’s staying with Dad?”

  “I am.” The voice came from behind her and Betty froze.

  Great. Joanne McBride.

  Betty turned around and smiled sweetly at the hospice nurse. They’d gone to school together, though Joanne had been a grade ahead of Betty. A tall redhead, Joanne had been captain of the cheerleading squad and—no surprise—had dated Kyle Murphy, starting quarterback of the football team.

  Well, until Betty had been caught making out with Kyle at the senior prom while Joanne was on stage with his & her matching crowns.

  By the look of it, the woman could hold a grudge.

  Joanne eyed Betty up and down and though she didn’t say a thing. It was obvious what was on her mind.

  White trash.

  “So, Joanne,” Betty said as she stuffed the apples in her bag. “You’re looking good.”

  And she was. That was no lie.

  “How’s Kyle these days?” she asked, her voice still coated with sugar. Too much sugar.

  Joanne had taken Kyle back after a brief split and had married him straight out of college. But some things never change and everyone knew Kyle was still a low-down cheat. Hell, he’d come into The Grill the week before and tried his damnedest to get Betty to agree to see him after hours.

  Betty’s smile faded when she saw the pain flash in Joanne’s eyes. Somehow getting a zinger in there didn’t feel as good as she’d thought.

  “He’s fine. Playing in the tournament. I’m sure you’ll see him there.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Betty glanced at her grandfather. “Um, our cell numbers are on the fridge. Dad likes a snack around ten and lunch at 1:30. He’ll probably need a nap at three—“

  “I know. I’ve been helping out with your father for the last two years. You know while you’ve been…traveling and whatever it is that you do.”

  Joanne was barely civil and it was obvious that she though
t Betty Jo was a complete and utter fuckup. She would be right.

  Betty glanced at her grandfather. “You ready?”

  Herschel was already heading out the back door, mumbling something about checking on his bees first.

  Betty grabbed his cooler, along with her bag, though she took care not to bend over too far when she grabbed it. Her risqué outfit was suddenly uncomfortable and for the first time she wished she’d chosen something a little more subtle.

  She straightened, kissed her father on the cheek, whispered, “I love you,” and was out the front door before she could second-guess herself even more. There was no time to change her clothes now. Besides, the only jersey she had was already on her back.

  She’d made her bed and as Matt had told her earlier, she was going to have to deal with it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “YOU HAVE TO admit, the Barker girls are impressive.”

  Beau nodded, his foot on the top step of the dugout, eyes trained on what had to be the sweetest ass he’d ever seen. Ever. Hands down.

  Betty was on deck and waved to a group of young men snapping her picture—they high-fived each other, ecstatic that the SI girl had noticed them.

  Tucker shoved him and chuckled. “I was talking about the fact that those girls can throw the ball and field it better than some of the guys on the team. Not the fact that they’re both fucking hot.”

  Beau cast an irritated look at his brother. “I’d keep your voice lowered. Shane Gallagher doesn’t look the type to take trash talk about his girl.”

  Tucker’s grin widened. “Better turn around, Hollywood. Betty’s about to bat and damn, those shorts just don’t quit.”

  Didn’t he know it. Beau’s mouth tightened as he grabbed his bat and walked out to the batter’s circle.

  Beau had played four ballgames with the Angry Pirates today, this being the fifth and final. The championship game.

  He’d played four games with Betty Jo Barker and her short shorts.

  Four games where he’d had to endure the silent treatment from Betty, while she flirted outrageously with every guy on the team—even her sister’s boyfriends for Christ sake. And Tucker? Hell his brother had been on the receiving end more times than Beau wanted to think about, and Tucker was pretty damn happy about it.

  Funny. Tucker sure as hell changed his tune significantly. No longer was Betty the junkie model. Hell, no. Betty Jo Barker was some sort of gift from the gods. A young, nubile sex pot with legs that didn’t quit, eyes that promised heaven, and a mouth that should be a national treasure.

  Yes, four games where he’d watched Damon White, a former NFL star nearly drool on her, along with half the guys on the field.

  He’d watched Betty work the crowd. Hell, she’d bent over countless times to, retie her laces or stretch out a calf muscle. Who the hell stretched out a calf muscle by bending over so that every guy within ten feet of her, was thinking thoughts that just weren’t right to think at a charity event?

  Betty. That’s who.

  He was irritated.

  Irritated because she was playing up the sex kitten side of her persona, big time, and he didn’t get it. She was so much more than that. He’d seen the other side and it made him wonder why she insisted on hiding it.

  He was also irritated because, Hulk, from the night before stood behind home plate and didn’t seem to give a damn that his girlfriend was playing fast and loose with every single male watching.

  Christ, if she was his…

  Beau stopped himself right there. Where the hell had that thought come from?

  A bunch of wolf whistles and shouts went up as she settled into the batter’s box and waited for the pitch.

  It was the bottom of the ninth, there were two outs and they were down by one run. He knew Betty well enough to know that she didn’t like to lose. Hell, he didn’t either, but today he’d love to win and wipe the slimy smile off the guy at catch.

  His chirping was way past what was acceptable, especially considering it was a charity event, and some of the comments he’d made to Betty were just plain wrong. Beau heard them because he was always on deck and though Betty acted as if everything was fine, he could tell by the set of her shoulders that it wasn’t.

  Hell, even the Hulk glared at the guy as if he wanted to crush him. There was something about the catcher, and damned if Beau could remember when he’d met the asshole.

  He’d think about it later, for now he needed to concentrate. They needed to win.

  The game was three-pitch, so each team pitched to their own players, giving their batters three chances to hit the ball. Both Beau and Logan Forest pitched for the Pirates, but because Beau was after Betty in the lineup, he wasn’t allowed to pitch to her.

  Thank God. What a diversion that would be.

  Logan rolled his shoulders and motioned to see if Betty was ready.

  “She’s always ready, Forest. You should know that,” Catch said, that slimy smile in place. “Isn’t that right, Barker?”

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your trap.” Hulk was now inches from the wire fence and earned a glare from the catcher.

  Interesting.

  Betty ignored both of them and nodded at Logan to throw the pitch, as she swung the bat and eyed up right field.

  Beau had been playing with her all day and he knew that she knew how to place a ball. Right field had moved way in—something the guys had been doing whenever a female was at the plate.

  Dumb. Betty could hit the damn ball and as Logan threw a nice pitch down the pike, Beau knew the ball would go right and that it would land way over the fielder’s head.

  The crowd cheered madly as Betty ran to first and made it to second before the fielder threw to the infield.

  She took a bow, to more whistles and cheers, and for one second he caught a look of pure, unbridled, joy in her face as she smiled back at Logan.

  It hit Beau in the chest. Tightened things that maybe shouldn’t be tightened.

  He had to clear his throat and his head as he stepped up to bat.

  The crowd went crazy. It was pretty obvious the Pirates were favorites. Someone shouted, “Beau I want your babies!” and the crowd cheered and laughed as he eased into the box, glancing to each side of the diamond and waving. He saw his security detail pushing back a gaggle of women near the team dugout and was glad that he’d decided to call them in for this event.

  The numbers had swollen considerably since this morning—with all the social media available, word had spread that he was in New Waterford.

  “You get a piece of that, Simon?”

  There was Catch again.

  Beau held his hand up and Logan stepped back, holding onto the ball as Beau turned to the catcher. It was then that Beau remembered the face.

  He was the asshole who’d had his hands all over Betty that night at the dance. The asshole that Beau had told to take a hike.

  Beau stepped up in the guy’s grill and thumped him in the chest. He had a couple inches on him, and maybe it was the tension that sat in his shoulders—or the look of joy that he’d just glimpsed in Betty’s eyes—but he was ready to tear the guys head off.

  Beau spoke, low and slow, but there was no mistaking he would back up his words.

  “You shut your dirty-ass mouth. If you so much as look at her or say one more fucked up thing, I will rearrange your face and I’ll do it right here in front of this entire town. You got that?”

  The guy was stupid. He opened his mouth to say something but Beau didn’t let him have a chance. “And when I’m done….” He pointed over to his security detail. Four big, strong men who were ex-military. “Those guys will want to chat and trust me, you don’t want a private audience with them. So right now I’d think long and hard about how you’d like to proceed.”

  Ump stepped up. “We good boys?”

  Beau flashed a signature smile, and earned another round of sighs, cheers among the female fans watching. “I’m good.” He glanced at Cat
cher. “How bout it? You ready to finish this?”

  The catcher took a step back but said nothing.

  Beau turned, nodded at Logan who stepped back into the pitchers circle, and when a perfect ball was thrown to him, he stepped into it. Beau swung even and hard and he knocked the damn thing out of the park.

  He ran, his eyes on Betty as she circled third and headed for home. His gaze never left her as he followed in her footsteps and when he reached home plate, she was there, a big grin on her face.

  Her eyes were huge, their blue depths sparkling and her smile was open and unguarded. Her cheeks were flushed, her ponytail had come loose, long strands blowing in the breeze.

  She was breathtaking. Alive.

  Beau didn’t think. He just did.

  He scooped her into his arms, whirled her around and before he knew what was happening, her hands were behind his neck, fingers digging into his hair. Her soft breasts were crushed against him and his hand slipped down past her waist, cupping that butt that had been teasing him all fucking day.

  For one wild second he felt lighter than he’d ever felt, as if he could touch the clouds. But he didn’t want to touch the clouds. He wanted to touch her.

  Betty.

  Surprise lit her eyes and she opened her mouth to say something, but he didn’t give her a chance. He bent down and slid his tongue over her full bottom lip, feeling her tremble against him.

  He was hot.

  He felt as if his skin was too tight.

  And he couldn’t resist her.

  Beau hovered over her lips for a second, maybe two, and then he kissed her, his mouth open and hot. He kissed her like he’d kissed her in his fantasies the night before. He kissed her like he’d not kissed another woman in a very, very, long time.

  It was full on straining bodies, roving tongues. It was heat and wet and electricity. The kiss was thrilling. Sexual. Primal. And oh, so fucking satisfying when she went limp in his arms, and whimpered into his mouth.

  He kissed her until his head spun. Totally aware that they were dead center in front of a large, cheering crowd and that the rest of their team watched from the sidelines.