Conceal

by Juliana Stone

  Betty pushed past Billie and began to run.

  She ran away from her sisters, and from a past that had finally caught up to her. She ran away from all the happy people at the reception, those who were whole and complete. She ran away from their laughter, the music, and good times.

  She paused and yanked off her heels and then continued on until the cool breeze off the river found her and even then there was no relief from the hot rage coursing through her.

  And there, beneath the shadows cast from the arena, stood Beau Simon, his heart heavy, his eyes on the spot of darkness that swallowed Betty until he couldn’t see her anymore.

  He had wanted to know what made Betty tick. What made her the complicated, infuriating, hot and cold woman that she was. The ballbreaker who didn’t give a damn.

  He’d just not expected it to be so heartbreaking.

  Chapter Twenty

  SUNDAY MORNING CAME slowly to the town of New Waterford and found a lot of the townsfolk—or at least those who’d partied a little too hard the night before—still in bed.

  The ball tournament had been a resounding success, with nearly 43,000 dollars raised for little Hunter Adams. Those involved patted themselves on the backs for a job well done. They ‘ooed and awed’ over the highlights of the games, the celebrities who’d participated, and of course that scandalous kiss between Beau Simon and Betty Jo Barker.

  Heck, it was even trending on twitter.

  Everyone knew Betty was screwing around with the Hollywood hunk, and a good portion of the populace felt sorry for Lane Summers, even though she wasn’t exactly the type to bring on the warm and fuzzies. Still, she was a woman scorned and publicly so.

  So it was, after church let out on this fine and sunny morning, only two names were on the tongues of nearly everyone in town.

  Betty Jo Barker, the triplet who just couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble, and Beau Simon, Hollywood superstar who was apparently staying in town for a few more days.

  Obviously.

  Since Beau was carrying on a hot and steamy affair with the aforementioned Barker triplet.

  Or at least that’s what the gossip was.

  In the loft above the garage at Logan Forest’s place, Beau was staring out at the crowd gathered along the sidewalk beyond the driveway when his brother finally rolled off the sofa with a groan.

  Paparazzi were out there in droves, which wasn’t surprising considering he’d been in town for days now. If anything, he was lucky that he’d had a few days of relative freedom. So far his security detail had kept them off Forest’s property but he knew his time was nearly up. He needed to talk to Betty and then he needed to get the hell out of this town before his celebrity ruined the pristine and simple beauty of New Waterford.

  Most of the time the paps came, and then they went, but with the kiss he’d planted on Betty the day before and the fact that Lane Summers was in town—or had been—they were on to something.

  Beau just didn’t know what that something was.

  Tucker staggered past him, mumbling something about the bathroom and Beau poured him a cup of coffee, setting it on the counter as he grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge and stuffed them into his bag.

  How the hell was he going to do this?

  “God I feel like shit.” Tucker said gruffly a few minutes later as he grabbed the cup off the counter and took a first, tentative sip. His long hair hung just past his shoulders, the dark waves a mess. He needed to shave, but then so did Beau, and it was obvious that his brother was hanging big time.

  “Did you close the place out?” Beau asked.

  Tucker groaned and ran a hand through the ropes of hair at his nape. “I don’t remember, which makes me pretty sure that I did.” He paused. “How the hell did we get home? Oh, wait, you disappeared just after the band started their second set. That I remember. Do you want to know why I remember that one fucking detail? Two words.”

  Beau remained silent because he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

  “Lane Summers.”

  Shit.

  “Yep. Lane Summers didn’t leave my side. She yakked in my ear until I thought I was going insane. She’s the reason I downed an entire bottle of tequila. How the hell did you put up with her for more than one date?”

  Beau shrugged. He really had nothing to say because even he wasn’t sure how he’d done it.

  “Christ, she must have been an ace in the sack.”

  Beau glared at his brother. He wasn’t going to answer that one.

  “Did you leave with Betty?” Tucker said, wincing and obviously in pain as he rubbed his forehead.

  “No.”

  “Huh.”

  Beau frowned. “I hate when you say that.”

  “What?”

  “Huh. Hate it.”

  “Huh.”

  Irritated, Beau stepped back from the window and grabbed his bag.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I’m taking Betty for a ride.”

  Tucker sidled up beside him and glanced out the window.

  “Really?”

  Beau nodded. “Really.”

  “Huh.” Tucker put his mug onto the counter and held his hands up in a mock surrender. “Sorry. It slipped out.” He leaned against the sink. “How you planning on getting past the vultures at the end of the driveway?”

  Beau slung his bag over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs. “I’ve got a plan.”

  “Need help?”

  “Nope, got it covered.”

  * * *

  He waved in the general direction of the crowd on the street—and was rewarded by squeals and cheers—as he exited the loft. Beau smiled, gave another wave and then headed for his bike, which was parked next to the main garage that Logan used. Another outbuilding, the garage was several feet away and hid most of the main house from the street.

  He entered the building and immediately spied Logan and Shane in the far corner. The two men were deep in conversation and they turned as Beau approached.

  “Are we all set?” Beau asked.

  Logan nodded. “You’re sure Betty’s okay with this?”

  No.

  “Yeah, she’ll be expecting me.”

  It was an outright lie, but the boys didn’t have to know that.

  Beau grabbed the bottom of his bright orange Oregon Beaver T-shirt, a favorite of his, and pulled it over his head. He handed it to Shane, who pulled it on while Beau slipped into a plain white T-shirt.

  The men were of similar build and Beau was hoping they’d be able to fool the paparazzi long enough for him to get away. He couldn’t do much about the fact that Gallagher’s hair was a lot darker, but the helmet and glasses should help.

  They’d be looking for the orange Beaver’s T-shirt and by the time they realized it wasn’t Beau on his bike, he’d be long gone.

  He handed Shane his aviators, but Shane held up a pair of his own and smiled.

  “I appreciate this,” Beau said with a nod.

  Shane laughed. “No problem. Anything for a Pirate.”

  “Pirate?” Beau asked.

  “Angry Pirate. That’s the team name.”

  Beau looked at both men. “You guys know what an Angry Pirate is?”

  “Yeah,” Logan said with a chuckle. “Trust me, we didn’t when the team was named.”

  Shane pulled Beau’s helmet on and tossed Beau the keys to Shane’s Harley. It was a beauty. A restored ’69 Shovelhead.

  “Take care of my machine.”

  Beau stood back and whistled. “Will do.”

  The plan was for Shane to take Beau’s bike and ride around back where there was a secondary lane that led out to the side street. Two of his security detail would follow and hopefully that would be enough for the paparazzi—they’d think it was Beau. As long as no one noticed that the hair was a few shades darker.

  If the paparazzi followed, then Beau would drive Shane’s bike out the front driveway and head off to The Grill, where he
knew Betty had just shown up for her Sunday shift.

  “Jesus, is this what your day to day is like?” Logan asked as he glanced out the small window beside the door. “How the hell do you do it?”

  There was a time when Beau used to ask himself the same question. Now?

  “I’m used to it, I guess. It’s not always this crazy because most of the time my environment is controlled. The Betty Jo thing kind of hit this one out of the ballpark. I’m sorry for all this,” Beau motioned toward the street. “But I’ll be out of your hair soon, I promise.”

  “Good to know,” Logan said slowly. “This thing with Betty…she’s…” Logan looked as if he was searching for the right words. “She might act real tough. Hell, she might have you believing that everything rolls off her shoulders like oil on water, but I gotta tell you, she’s not. I’ve known all three of these girls for most of my life. They’re all complicated creatures, but Betty? She’s an entirely new level of complicated. I don’t know what her deal is, we’re not exactly tight, but I do know she’s not nearly as tough as she seems. She’s not nearly as tough as she wants everybody to believe.”

  Beau thought of the night before and gave a curt nod.

  Logan shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. “Like I said, we’re not real tight. Hell, her and Billie are going through something right now….I have no idea what it is and I’m fine with staying out of it. But she’s still family and I gotta look out for her.”

  It was a warning.

  “I just need to talk to her about a project.” Beau grabbed his helmet. “But I hear what you’re saying.”

  “Okay,” Shane said, his gloved hand on the door handle. “You ladies done bonding? Let’s get this done. Something’s up with Bobbi and she was more than a little pissed that I took off first thing this morning.”

  Shane disappeared outside and the crowd reacted. Beau watched as Gallagher slid onto Beau’s bike, revved it a few times and then steered it around the garage, with two of his security detail following in a black SUV.

  The crowd jostled near the driveway, but before the SUV had even passed the garage to head toward the laneway out back, the paparazzi were on the move.

  Beau secured his bag to the bike while Logan opened the large overhead door. He got on Shane’s Harley and roared out of the driveway, the remainder of his security detail keeping the locals at bay as he made his escape.

  Less than five minutes later he was at The Grill, his boots thudding up the steps as he pushed his way inside. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dimness and with relief, he noted it was as empty as the parking lot.

  Duke, the owner, lifted his head from the paperwork in front of him as Beau made his way over to him.

  Duke sat at the bar. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Nah.” Beau had called the man half an hour ago so the man knew what was up. “Is she?”

  “She’s in the kitchen but I have to warn you. She’s in one hell of a mood.” Duke’s handlebar mustache quivered a bit as he frowned. “I hope you know what you’re doing and I hope…” Duke muttered something and glanced toward the kitchen doors.

  “Is there something else you want to say?”

  Duke’s gaze was still on the kitchen doors. “None of us want to see her hurt.”

  Another warning.

  Maybe in another time and place Beau would have taken them personally, but how could he? These folks were looking after one of their own—their loyalty and concern was admirable.

  He wondered if Betty knew how much her family and the town loved her?

  “I know,” Beau answered. “You gonna be okay if I steal her away for the day?”

  Duke nodded. “Good luck with that. She’s in a mood. It might take a small miracle to convince her to leave with you.”

  “Thanks for the heads up.” Beau headed toward the kitchen and paused with his hands on the door.

  His shoulders ached from tension and his gut was jittery. This wasn’t just about the movie anymore. It was about making things right.

  He just hoped that Betty Jo would let him.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  BETTY’S BLACK MOOD didn’t improve when she glanced up from the prep table and spied Beau standing just inside the kitchen. Heck, it could have been Jim Morrison standing there and she wouldn’t have cracked a smile—and he was her number one, favorite dead guy.

  God, she felt like shit and had barely slept. For the first time in years, she’d been haunted by the memories of that long ago night. The images, so fresh it felt as if she was back in that shed. The sensations—cold, rough hands across quivering skin. The fear. The helplessness.

  Who knew that all that shit was still there? Hiding beneath the surface of her skin like a disease. And now? Now it oozed from her pores, sliding down her body like tiny rivers.

  What she wouldn’t give for a hit of something strong. Something to make her forget. Something to dull everything.

  The old Betty would have been all over that shit, but the new one? The new one wouldn’t let her. The new one had kept her from calling Matt and asking him for a hit. The new one had kept her from reaching for that damn bottle of vodka in the dining room cupboard.

  The new one had shown up for work on time.

  But the new one was angry, filled with so much rage that her fingers shook and she put down the knife in her hand afraid she’d cut herself. Nice to know that all that money spent on therapy was wasted.

  “Hey,” Beau said, a note of hesitation in his voice.

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  Her eyes raked over him. Over the white T-shirt that fit his sculpted muscles like a glove. Over his biceps and the width of his shoulders, the contours of his abs that were easily visible.

  Her eyes slid down the low slung, faded, jeans and the boots on his feet. Back up to the chin now covered in thick, blond stubble and that mouth—that generous, hot, and sexy mouth…

  Before moving back up to the intense blue eyes that stared back at her.

  The expression in his eyes was…she didn’t know what it was, but it sure as hell set off something inside her.

  Something hot and fierce. Something that ached.

  Something that ached so badly it hurt.

  “I want to take you away for the day so that we can talk.”

  She thought of the kiss they’d shared. Oh really.

  “Talk?”

  “Just talk,” he answered quietly.

  “Does Lane Summers know you’re here?” Not that she was considering taking off with Beau. Her mind was too screwed up. She was off kilter and when Betty was off kilter, shit happened.

  The new Betty cared about that kind of stuff.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  “Lane Summers and I aren’t together.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “No? So she’s in town for the local ambiance? For the shopping in our lovely, discount boutiques? Or maybe she’s a few days early for the Farmer’s Market on Tuesday? Is that it?”

  Beau took a step toward her. “We were seeing each other and now we’re not. I don’t know if she’s still in town and I don’t care.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen door. “Duke is fine with you leaving. So are you coming with me?”

  He smiled, a slow kind of thing that made heat curl low in Betty’s stomach. She should hate him for the way he made her feel.

  Except that she didn’t.

  Don’t do it.

  “Where are you going?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “I don’t know. Wherever the open road takes us.”

  “Us?” She bit her lip.

  Don’t do it.

  “You’re real sure of yourself,” she said carefully.

  Beau shook his head. “Actually, I’m not. But I’ll beg, if it will make a difference.”

  “You’ll get down on your knees. Right here. Right now.” She almost smiled. “And beg.” The thought of Beau on his knees set off all kinds of bells. Loud bells.
Sexy bells. Bells that screamed, Yes!

  A part of her wanted to get as far away from New Waterford as she could, but there was that other part. The part that told her she’d be crazy to go anywhere with Beau Simon. Crazy. Stupid crazy.

  Stupid crazy.

  Something she hadn’t been in a very, very, long time.

  Her fingers crept up to the tattoo underneath her ear and she rubbed the smooth skin, feeling that familiar curl of rage again. If she stayed in here, alone, with her thoughts—with those images and memories—she would go crazy.

  Decision made, she tossed her apron and turned toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

  Outside the sun was hot and she eyed up the Harley parked near the front door.

  “That’s Shane’s.”

  Beau nodded and handed her a spare helmet. “Yeah, he’s got mine for the moment.”

  Betty didn’t ask. She shaded her eyes and glanced up the street. People were starting to gather along the sidewalk, obviously word was out that Beau was at The Grill. It was time to go.

  Beau hopped on the bike and she slid in behind him, wriggling a bit until her butt wasn’t hanging out of her skirt, totally aware of the man between her legs.

  For a moment she eyed the broad back and shoulders and then held her breath as she slipped her arms around his waist. His body was warm and as she moved her hands over his stomach, she thought that maybe he shuddered. Or maybe it was her.

  Beau opened the throttle and they left The Grill behind, coasting down Main Street until he hung a right onto River Road.

  From there, Beau followed the river as it snaked and turned, flowing through three different counties until they eventually ended up at a lake near the base of the Porcupine Mountains.

  This side of the lake was deserted, probably because there was no beach, but Betty could see swimmers gathered on the other side. Their voices echoed over the water along with a lot of laughter and shrieks of joy.

  She thought that maybe if she tried hard enough she might be able to conjure up a memory that sounded like that. But then what was the point?

  With a sigh, she slid from the bike, careful not to touch Beau too much as she did so, and she stretched out stiff arms and legs.