“Flaw?”
“Some of us die young and one of my ancestors from the 1800’s, Henry Simon, is supposed to haunt the family compound in Florida.”
“Really,” she said, a half-smile on her face.
“It’s the God’s truth.”
“So, have you ever seen Henry?”
He waited a beat. “Never.”
Her eyes glistened as she stared at him and something in the air shifted. Something heavy. Real.
Something so sweet it was painful.
He nodded toward the steps and followed her up, enjoying the view of that delectable backside and not apologizing for it when she glanced back.
“I’ve got a sister too,” he continued.
“You don’t say.”
Beau unlocked the door and stood aside so that Betty could pass. “Grace. She’s a junior in college.”
The lake house featured a huge open concept room, with an entire bank of windows that looked out over the lake. Open floor to ceiling, it was vast, airy and a little bit rugged, with exposed beams and a massive reclaimed brick fireplace in the dining area. Stairs on either side of the main room led to loft bedrooms along each side of the house.
Cassidy, the maid, had left the lights on low, fresh flowers on the table, and a bottle of red wine had been left to breathe on the counter in the kitchen.
Nice.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Shit. He forgot. She didn’t drink anymore.
“Anything else I can get you?”
Again, she shook her head and wandered over to the large windows that overlooked the lake. “It’s beautiful up here.”
He moved until he was just behind her and for a second, closed his eyes as that subtle, fresh scent that was all hers drifted over him. God, she smelled so damn good. She wasn’t covered in those heavy perfumes or expensive soaps that some women he knew wore.
Did they honestly think guys dug that shit?
“What are you doing?”
His eyes flew open and she was staring at him as if he’d just lost his mind—which, considering he’d just been caught sniffing her up like a goddamn dog, maybe he had.
“You know what? Never mind,” she said.
“You smell real good.”
Her eyes widened a little and then she licked that damn mouth that had been driving him crazy for weeks. She exhaled slowly and when she spoke, her voice was husky.
“Are you ready to get specific now?”
Shit. This was it. Crunch time.
He glanced over at the bottle of wine and wished he had time for a drink, but it wasn’t nearly strong enough. He had goddamn butterflies in his stomach.
Him. Beau Simon. Butterflies.
Jesus Christ, if Tucker were here, he’d be all over this shit.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and squared his shoulders, meeting her gaze as he considered how to start.
“Your agent says you haven’t accepted the role yet.”
Her eyes slipped away, but only for a moment, and then she sighed. “I’m still thinking about it.”
“That’s the part I need to understand. The role is perfect for you. This movie will make you a star, Betty. That’s not conjecture, that’s not me blowing smoke up your ass. That is a bona fide prediction.”
“I know, and I appreciate your enthusiasm,” she said softly. “It’s been a long time since anyone believed in me. But it’s a big step. There’s a lot to think about. Billie just had a new baby and things are chaotic at home. Bobbi’s crazy busy, running Billie’s hockey school and then there’s Dad. Gramps can’t be the only one responsible for Dad. It’s not fair, he’s old and, well, he’s got his bees to look after.”
“Don’t you have anyone else that can help out?”
“We have respite care, but it’s not the same. He’s not the same when a stranger comes into the house. It’s like he knows there’s something wrong, but he can’t quite figure it out.”
Betty parked her butt on the edge of the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. She surprised him, this woman. He thought she would have been all over the movie offer—anything to get out of New Waterford. But it hadn’t happened, at least not yet and he was thrown when he’d been told that she hadn’t officially accepted it.
Was there more? Another reason she didn’t want to leave New Waterford?
Something dug into him then. A worm that threaded its way through his chest until heat flushed his cheeks. Matt.
The worm twisted hard.
He was jealous as fuck.
“What about Hawkins?” he forced himself to ask the question.
Her head snapped up. “What about him?”
“Do you love him?”
She looked surprised, blinking wide as her gaze slipped away. “What is this? Truth or dare without the dare?”
“I just want some answers. Do you love, Matt Hawkins?”
“Yes,” she said. No hesitation. That was the truth right there staring him in the face.
The worm twisted until it was painful.
“I love him like a brother. A brother I never had.”
Christ, he wanted to believe her but something was off. Like there was more to the story.
“You guys have a relationship that seems to go beyond a brotherly kind of thing. I should know, Bets. I’ve got three of ‘em but I don’t stick my tongue down their throats and spend the night them.”
“Good,” Betty inched a bit closer on the sofa. “I hope not because that would paint you in an entirely different light.” She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something else and then closed it.
What was it that she needed to say? What piece of the puzzle was still locked away inside her?
“I’ve loved Matt Hawkins since I was twelve. Since he trusted me enough to share something personal and painful. Something that still haunts him. He’s the only person I know more broken than I am, and I don’t know what to do other than to be there for him. No one understands Matt the way I do and I know everyone in town thinks he’s this badass loser who drinks too much and does a healthy dose of drugs on the side. Even my sisters don’t know him or understand him. They think he’d bad news, a bad influence for the bad Barker.”
She twirled a long piece of hair through her fingers. “They don’t know what he did for me. What he does for me. Matt calms this wild place inside of me. He’s my family. My best friend.”
How the hell could he be jealous of someone like that? The guy sounded like a truckload of trouble and heartache. But he was. He was jealous as fuck because the tortured Matt Hawkins knew those pieces inside her—intimately—the pieces that Beau wanted to touch so badly.
“What are we doing, Beau?” She got to her feet, her fingers rubbing against her thighs, nervously.
“I’m not doing the movie,” he said slowly, so that there was no way she could misunderstand. Christ, he was really putting it out there now. He took a step closer to her, but paused, unsure how he should proceed.
“Are you kidding me? There’s no movie? You’re not going to film it?”
His hands were balled fists inside his pockets. Every muscle he owned was tight and the tension across his shoulders, heavy.
“Do you want the role?” he asked.
“Well, yes, but…”
“But you haven’t accepted yet. Why?”
She exhaled and tucked the piece of hair she’d been twirling behind her ear. “Honestly?”
“That would be good.”
“I’m not sure if I can work with you.”
“Why?”
“Because, things are complicated between us.”
“Why?” he said again.
She made a noise that sounded like disgust. “I’m not doing this, Beau.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Good. So am I.”
If she was surprised at his words, she didn’t show it. “Now why are thing
s complicated between us?”
“Because of those damn feelings,” she spat, her face flushed and angry. “Feelings that I wish I didn’t have. Don’t you get it? Feelings are complicated. They’re messy and half the time they don’t make sense. I don’t know how to deal with them.” Her eyes glittered. “I don’t know how to deal with you.”
That worm that had been inside him disappeared, replaced with a hot flush of need. And want. And…and love.
Tucker was right. It didn’t matter that they weren’t life long friends. That they hadn’t met in college, or that they hadn’t dated for six months or six years. She was it for him.
Betty Jo Barker was his forever.
“I told the studio and my production company that I was pulling out of the movie. The part I was going to act is being re-cast. I told them that I wasn’t going to direct it either.”
“What?”
“I told them that you were going to star in the movie and that we’d look for another director to attach to the project.”
“Are you crazy? I know how important this movie is to you! It’s like your masterpiece or something. Why would you do that?”
Beau strode over to her and cupped her chin, his long fingers splayed across her jaw. That scent of hers hung in the air and he inhaled a deep shot of it, resting his gaze on her eyes.
“This is the part where I’m going to get real specific so you need to pay attention.” His thumb caressed the corner of her mouth and he thought that maybe she whimpered. “Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“About a week ago I decided that there was no way in hell I could do this movie with you. There were a couple reasons for that. The first one? I know how important it is to you and you get the role. The character. Christ, on some level I think I wrote it with you in mind. This part is yours, Betty. Yours. Hands down. There is no other actress I’d even consider.”
Small, hot, breaths fell from her mouth and she licked her lips, drawing his thumb to that damn corner once more. He inched closer, so close that he was pretty sure she could feel the heat from his body and the hardness between his legs.
“What’s the other reason?” she asked.
“I want you. I want to be with you. I want to watch you sleep. I want to make love to you when you wake up. I want to watch you laugh and I want to listen to your voice. I want to hear your thoughts, your dreams, and every single desire you’ve ever had.”
“That’s a lot of wants,” she said softly.
“Yeah.” He bent lower, so that his warm breath fanned her neck. “And that’s only the start.”
He kissed the pulse that beat at the base of her neck. “You see, the thing about all those wants is that I can’t have any of them unless I’m out of the movie because I sure as hell can’t be with you day after day and not be with you. I can’t. So I had to make a choice.”
He felt her tremble. “You would do that for me?”
Beau cradled her head between his hands so that her gaze was forced to meet his.
“It’s done. I already did.”
“Why?” she breathed into him, leaned against his body.
Goddamn, but he could stare into her eyes for hours. “This is that real specific part. The main one I need you to pay attention to.”
He brushed a feather-light kiss across her mouth bent toward her ear. “I love you.”
For about ten seconds, Betty Jo Barker was speechless and when she finally spoke, her voice was husky, as if she could barely get her words out.
“How can you say that? You barely know me.”
“True,” he said as he sought out her mouth. “But I know enough. I know the important things. I know that you’re fierce and loyal and warm and caring. I know that even when you hate your sisters, you love them. I know that your dad breaks your heart and that you love him too. I know that Matt Hawkins is a lucky son-of-a-bitch and that you’re infuriating with a smart mouth and an attitude that doesn’t quit.”
She didn’t say anything for the longest time, but then he felt her shift against him, her body melting into his as her arms slowly wove their way up to his shoulders.
“There’s a lot more to me than that, Beau Simon. You don’t know what my favorite color is and you definitely don’t have a handle on my musical tastes.”
“Right,” he murmured against her mouth. “But darlin’, we have all night.”
Chapter Thirty-one
FOR ONE PANICKED moment, Betty Jo thought she should turn her butt around and run away as far and as fast as she could.
This was crazy.
Betty Jo and Beau Simon, together as a couple, was stupid crazy. She’d known from that first day when he’d arrived in New Waterford, that he could break her. She’d always known….
But, oh God, he’d used the L word.
The L word.
Over the past decade, more than a few men had declared their love for Betty but she’d never, ever, said those three little words to anyone, other than Matt. What was this that circled inside her whenever she saw Beau, or even thought of him?
She knew it wasn’t just physical. It couldn’t be. The pull was too strong.
His mouth made a slow path down her neck until he settled in at the base, there where her pulse beat so erratically, she was afraid she’d pass out.
Could you pass out from emotion and lust and the hotness of a man pressed up against you?
Her knees wobbled.
Hell, yes.
His mouth was now traveling back up, his tongue dipping into the corner of her mouth. Teasing. Tasting.
Impatient, she reached for him and opened her lips, sucking him into her as she widened the kiss. His hands were on her butt, holding her in place and her arms were like a vise around his neck.
She kissed him with all the passion and fury and pain that she had. It was raw and real and when he finally pulled back, she couldn’t stand. She sank into him with a whimper.
She’d said everything there was to say in that kiss, but she wasn’t sure that Beau would get it. She couldn’t say those words back to him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
But that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel them. That didn’t mean that those three little words weren’t sewn into her heart and her soul, a perfect patch to close all those imperfect scars.
“I…” she said roughly. “I want you too.” It was all she had in her to say, but the rest was there in her eyes if he was brave enough to look. Most guys would be pissed after declaring the L word and not receiving the same back.
“Good to know,” he murmured. Slowly, his hands relaxed their grip on her, until they slid off her body and dropped to his sides.
Betty licked her lips, wanting the warmth of him back, but she let go as well and took a step back.
He blew out a long breath and ran his hands through that mess of blond hair that she was dying to bury her nose in.
“I didn’t bring you here for this. I mean, I want this, I want to bury myself inside you so badly that it hurts, but I don’t want you to think that sex is all that’s on my mind.”
Her eyes dropped to the bulge in his jeans and a slow grin curved her lips. “Okay,” she said softly.
He glanced over to the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I can fix something simple.”
“No.”
His eyes rested on hers. “Do you want a glass of water?”
“Nah.”
“Milk? I think we have skim.”
“I don’t like milk.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“It’s too healthy.”
“What about orange juice?”
“Not really feeling it.” She stepped closer to him, reclaiming her space and inhaling his seductive scent. She reached for the hem of her summer dress, and with one quick movement, pulled it up over her head. She tossed it to the floor.
“Peanut butter?”
“Allergic.” Her hands were on her bra clasp.
“Really?”
“No. That was a lie.” Her bra joined the dress.
His eyes moved to her bared breasts, and the wicked grin that fell over his mouth was enough to drive her crazy. She wanted those lips on her nipples. She wanted that hot, wet, mouth on every inch of her body.
Betty cupped her breasts, feeling them swell beneath her touch. She offered them to him, eyes slanted, mouth partly open. “Are you hungry, Beau?”
He made a sound, something close to an animal.
“You look starved,” she whispered.
And then he was on her. His head dipped low, his mouth at her breasts. He licked and sucked and tugged on both nipples until she was soaked through her panties.
With a groan, Beau scooped her into his arms and strode over to the fireplace. A large, white, fluffy area rug met her backside as he laid her down, his hands already inside her panties.
“God, you’re wet,” he said against her mouth.
“God, you’re hot,” she responded, taking his tongue once more.
She arched her back and yelped when he thrust his finger deep inside her. With his thumb on her clitoris, and his long, rough finger pad massaging her intimately, she knew she wouldn’t last long. Already the beginnings of an orgasm curled inside her, an exquisite pressure that made her squirm beneath him.
“Jesus,” she gasped.
“Jesus has nothing to do with it, darlin’.”
He leaned back and she was able to watch him, watch her.
“This is all me,” he said as she whimpered, her body jerking from his touch.
“You’re arrogant,” she managed to say. The burn intensified and she buckled.
Beau applied the right amount of pressure and as she came apart beneath his fingers, he grinned down at her.
“No, I’m hot.”
For a few moments, Betty gazed up at him, her body quaking, her heart full of…something heavy.
He was so hot. He was also arrogant, infuriating, sexy as hell, and he was hers.
“Get off me,” she said slowly. “And take your clothes off.”
Beau slid down her body, dragging her panties along with him. His eyes were dark, smoldering as he gazed down at her, before pulling his T-shirt over his head and tossing it to the side.
She propped herself up on her elbows, but kept her legs spread, loving the way he kept looking between them.
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