Clenching his jaw he looked out of the window at the snowflakes coming down in a tornado pattern. The last few days Laramie had been hit hard. The temperature was just warm enough to invite lots of snow. Unlike warm places, when it snowed here—the people kept going.
He looked back at the blonde hair falling easily down her back. How would it feel to run his hand down her hair? He thought of her smiling at him when he held her to him for a dance. They were electric together. Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t she feel it?
He’d tried to get a read on her during his entrepreneurship class the past week. Usually her eyes never left him as he walked around the class interacting with the students. He could feel them—like a dull heat that was always there, at the edges of his conscious. But the past week she hadn’t looked at him, except when necessary. Countless times he’d waited at the institute, hoping she’d come through like many of the students did during the day—stopping in at the institute to see if he would run into her. It was driving him crazy. He felt like a rubber band stretched to a breaking point.
Last night, at the hospital, Martha had hugged him as he was leaving and whispered, “Don’t worry—she’ll come around.”
He smiled, thinking about the older couple. The heart attack definitely seemed to have brought them closer. Many times, when Beau would run some food up for Larry or bring him a new magazine to read, their hands would be laced together. He’d noticed the happiness in Larry’s eyes as Martha fussed over him.
Tonight, Beau was planning on visiting them at the Ivinson Home. It was Larry’s first day back and Beau wanted to stop in and make sure all was well. He wondered if Larry would ask Martha to marry him. He suspected he would. But the only thing Beau knew for sure was that life often didn’t go as planned.
He thought of his own mother living out her life alone. She said she wasn’t lonely, but Beau didn’t believe her. He saw the way she often stared out of his window in the living room, her hand gently on her book, her thoughts somewhere else entirely. He’d gotten over wishing things would have been different for her long ago. In fact, she often told him that he needed to find someone—settle down.
It wasn’t the settling down that really scared him. Not as much as the someone. He hadn’t dated in over a year. He was trying to get himself together. He was trying to get himself right with the Lord. Nothing else would do. And now—with Sara . . . what was he going to do? She deserved better.
Bishop Archibald stood in front of the class, his eyes peering across the room, pausing on each student for a second. “Thanksgiving is in two days, brothers and sisters. What are you truly thankful for? I want you to reflect on our Savior, and the gift he gave to us during this wonderful season.” He turned to the chalk board and wrote Atonement. “What does this mean, brothers and sisters?” The class could tell it was a rhetorical question. “Let’s break down the word . . . at . . . one . . . ment. To be at one with the Savior. Think about that. If he wants us to be at one with him, then obviously he wants us to come to him for all things. He is the light. He can heal all pain.” Bishop Archibald smiled, shaking his head softly. “I don’t know all your pain, but I know that we all have it. I know that I have had pain, and I have sinned before.” His eyes teared up. “And I have felt his atoning love for me. And I can feel it for you. Do you feel it right now? It’s there. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, he says to all men, “Come unto me, and I will give you peace, not as the world gives it, I give unto thee.” He is the only one who can heal you. He is the only one that can re-write the story. Isn’t that a cool concept? He can forgive you for your sins. He is the only one. Your pages will be blank, ready to be filled again. Remember that. Remember that when you feel steeped in sin. Remember that when you feel your burdens are too heavy. He can take them from you. He can erase them. Have you let him rewrite the parts you don’t want in there?” He smiled again. “I will leave you with that to ponder. And, remember if you are not leaving for Thanksgiving, Sister Archibald and I will host a dinner here at the Institute, and you all are invited. I’m even making the pies this year, under her close tutelage.” He made a face and the class laughed. “But it will be grand, just grand. Could I have a volunteer for the closing prayer?”
Beau stayed in his seat for a moment. Atonement. He knew it was true. His heart ached, thinking about everything he’d gone through. It was working in his life. He knew it. It was the only thing giving him the strength he needed right now. And he wanted to believe that he could have a fresh start. If the Lord could only give him some kind of sign that he was forgiven. Give him something that would distinctly let him know that it was time to move on with his life.
Standing, he walked by Sara’s desk. The whole class had pretty much filed out, except one stray girl sitting at the piano playing a soft hymn. He stopped next to her. “Is this seat taken?”
Sara smiled.
Beau sat down. He couldn’t help himself. He had to be near her, even if it meant getting his heart ripped out. “You’re looking quite chipper today, Ms. Fairbanks. Are you ready for Thanksgiving?”
“Well . . .”
He waited. “Well . . .”
“I was going to ask you if I could take your mom up on her invitation to dinner.”
Beau stared at her like she had just grown horns. “S-sure. I mean, of course.” He nodded his head. “Will Jonathon be coming, too?” He squinted suspiciously at her.
Sara laughed and coughed. “Umm, no. Would you like to drive me to my yoga class at the Fine Arts Building, Mr. Hennings?” She stood and put her backpack on.
Beau hesitated.
Sara turned back. “Well, are you coming?”
He quickened his step and almost fell over a desk.
She laughed.
He looked up into her happy face. And he felt so happy.
He followed her out to the parking lot to his truck. The parking lot was filled with deep snow. Beau opened the passenger door for her and hurried to his side, sliding in easily and started the roar of the truck. He blew on his hands to warm them up. “Sara—you’ve just got to tell me what’s going on.”
“Well,” she said, checking her phone for the time, “I will, but you have to get going. I don’t want to be late.”
Beau shifted into gear and gently eased out of the snow-filled parking lot. Less than five minutes later he pulled to the curb in front of the Fine Arts Building. He couldn’t take it. “Okay.”
Sara stared at him and her face reddened.
“Sara?” Beau held onto her bag. “You’re not going until you tell me what is wrong?”
She closed her eyes and then opened them, blurting it out, “I think it’s time we officially dated.”
Chapter 29
Beau’s mouth gaped open and an unguarded smile spread quickly across his face. “A sign,” he muttered to himself.
“What?” She asked, confused by his response.
He shook his head, his face bright. “Nothing.”
“But,” she said, putting up her hand, “I am still dating Jonathon too.”
Beau cocked his head to the side and lifted the hand on her bag to pull his sunglasses off of his eyes. “What?”
It came tumbling out. “I went to the mountain this weekend, and I discovered that I need to date both of you. I need to sort out my feelings for you . . .”
Beau squeezed her hand, still looking shell-shocked. “Okay.”
“And my feelings for Jonathon.”
Beau nodded. “Okay . . . what mountain did you go to?” His voice was tentative, reminding her of when she’d tiptoe down to get a glass of water at night, hoping her father couldn’t hear her.
Sara laughed at his confusion. “Sorry, Genova uses that phrase all the time. Remember how Moses went to Mt. Sinai to talk to the Lord?”
“I’m with ya.”
“Well?”
Beau was nodding profusely now. “I’m up for a little competition.”
Sara smiled. “It’s not like that, Be
au. It’s, well, I have thought about what you’ve said about Jonathon being this idea in my head that I have built up for two years. It’s a lot of pressure for him and for me. And . . .” She looked away.
“And . . .” Beau squeezed her hand, again.
“And I have feelings for you that need sorting out.” She looked out the window, trying to avoid his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean that Jonathon’s a bad option, mind you.” She looked back at him and gave him a severe look.”
“Of course,” he whispered.
“I told him on Sunday afternoon that I wanted to date the both of you. And that I needed a chance to get to know him, really know him again. I don’t want to be disappointed in what he’s not anymore—or what I thought he was—but be able to rediscover our relationship.”
Beau seemed frozen in place, his jaw line flexing. “All right.”
Sara sighed. “So, it’s up to you, Beau. If you want to date, then let’s date. My dad used to always say that a girl needed to be courted properly to fall in love with a man. That’s what he was always saying to my brothers. Honestly, he worried a lot about Jonathon and me because he didn’t feel like I was properly courted.” Sara’s eyes got misty and she took her hand out of Beau’s to wipe them. “And, I’m just laying it all out on the line here.” She looked at Beau for a response.
He swallowed and nodded. “I like on the line.”
“I don’t want you kissing me or telling me stuff that gets in my head or—”
Quicker than Sara could anticipate Beau’s lips were on hers. He cupped the back of her head and pulled her closer to him.
Sara realized that he tasted sweet to her, like cotton candy from the fair. “Beau!” She pushed back from him.
“I just had to do that before you really finishing setting down all of the rules.” He was unapologetic.
She couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on her face. “I have to get to class. But I do have official rules.” She patted her backpack.
“Really?”
Sara nodded. “Genova helped me pound them out.”
“All right. Pass ‘em over.” He put his hand out.
“I’ll tell you after class.”
He reached out, like he was going to kiss her again. Instead he picked up her hand and kissed the back of it gently. “That’s more like a courting kiss, right.”
She swiped at him.
He laughed and let go of her hand. “I’ll pick you up after class.” His eyes got serious. “I’m so happy, Sara.”
Sara felt the pounding in her chest ease. “I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, then.”
She got out of the truck and ran for class, thinking that she loved his eyes.
**
Beau waited for her in the hallway outside of her class. The friend she was talking to pumped her eyebrows when she saw Beau and told her to have a good Thanksgiving.
Beau picked up her hand.
She paused.
He shrugged. “What? I haven’t even seen the rules, yet.” He grinned wide.
She kept her hand in his. They walked out into the empty atrium. Light flooded in through the long windows and a Greek statue pointed students toward a large door to the theater.
He motioned to an empty table and they sat down. “I brought dinner while I hear these rules. Is that okay?”
Sara liked the way his face looked so—relaxed. “Yes.”
They sat and Beau pulled out the sandwiches, letting her pick what kind she wanted.
Sara pulled out a typed up sheet with five rules on it.
Beau snatched up the sheet. “Oh, no.”
Sara took the sheet back. She put it down and unrolled the sandwich. “Oh yes. And, thank you for the food, by the way. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Beau opened up his own sandwich. “You need to eat. You’re definitely too thin.”
Sara laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that. I mean, I’ve never been heavy, but too thin?”
Beau looked her up and down. “You’ve had a hard couple of months, Sara. You’ve lost weight for sure.”
Sara tried not to blush that he’d noticed her weight. She pulled the rules to her. “Rule number one: I make all the rules.”
Beau snorted a little of the water that he was drinking.
“Rule number two: You can’t complain about rule number one.”
Beau wiped his face. “Seriously?”
“Rule number three: Eighteen days are allotted to each you and Jonathon between now and January thirteenth, when school starts again. During which time one weekend is allotted to the other one.”
“Wait a second, how is this going to work?”
Sara wiped her face and took a drink. “Remember, you don’t have to agree to this.”
“If I don’t agree, will you still date me?”
Sara shook her head back and forth. “Nope.”
“And you’ll still date Jonathon?”
Sara shrugged one shoulder. “He agreed.”
Beau motioned with his hand and said, “Keep going.” He looked resigned and grumpy.
“Since I’m here from now until December eighteenth, I will exclusively date you, except for one weekend that will be allotted to Jonathon. After the eighteenth I will be going to the ranch for Christmas. Jonathon will come visit me for a week there, and I will visit him in Cody for a week. School starts January 13, and we’ll see how it goes.”
Beau finished his sandwich and was lounging back in the chair, sipping his water. “Are those all the rules?”
“Rule number four: You are allowed to call once a week on your off twenty-five days.” Sara smiled at Beau patronizingly. “Oh, and rule number five: no kissing.”
Beau scooted his chair closer to her and pulled the rules over. “You seriously wrote these out with Genova?” His eyes glinted against the shadows coming into the atrium. He ran the back of his index finger down the jawline of her face.
She shivered, feeling the tension between them. “Yep.” She couldn’t help looking at his eyes, blue and clear—with a touch of deep blue ocean in them at the moment.
He kissed her purposefully, letting his lips linger after.
“I told you that kissing was out.” She didn’t acknowledge the fact she hadn’t pulled away or slapped him or frankly tried to do anything to avoid it.
He pulled away and kept tracing her face lightly and brushed his hand down her hair. “Did Jonathon agree to that?”
“Of course—he has to follow the rules too. He has no problem with the rules.”
Sara recognized his patented half-smile. “He must not like kissing you as much as I do.” He playfully pulled on a strand of her hair.
Laughing—she hit his hand away.
He kissed her cheek softly. “Can I kiss your cheek?”
Sara felt herself getting weak. “Umm . . . I guess I didn’t clarify that, did I.” She giggled.
He kissed her chin. “Can I kiss your chin?”
Sara put her hand up to his chest. “Beau—.” The scent of his aftershave settled into her.
He grabbed her hand. “Can I kiss your hand?” He kissed the back of her hand, then turned it and kissed the inside of her wrist.”
She giggled, again. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I haven’t agreed to the rules, yet.” He kissed up her arm and spoke like a Frenchman. “I cannot have you thinking of anything but me, Madame.” He kissed quickly and lightly to her elbow. “For you will be mine.” He was dramatic and foolish and Sara secretly found it irresistible.
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked over her whole face. His voice came out husky and gave her chills. “Let’s just forget this whole thing and elope? You can have your brothers there, and I’ll have my mom. It’ll be perfect.” He kissed her again, and Sara realized it was a kiss that was claiming her for himself. It was sweet and measured and left her wanting more.
When she didn’t answer he sighed, standing and clearing the table quic
kly. “What are your plans for tonight?”
She stood, trying to clear her head of him. “Umm, I don’t know.”
Taking her hand, they left the building and started for his truck. Snow was coming down even harder.
She was still reeling from his kiss when he opened the door for her. “I guess this means I’m going with you. You still have the whole cave man thing going for you, you know.
Beau laughed. “Okay, I’ll be more official. What are your plans for tomorrow?”
Sara sighed dramatically and smiled. “Nothing. I only have one class tomorrow—taught by a man that is seriously masochistic—wanting to grade one hundred and fifty page business plans rather than give a final.”
Beau shrugged. “I emailed and texted everyone this afternoon that class was cancelled for tomorrow. With all this snow they need to be getting on the road to go home.” He opened her door. “And . . . well, I actually just found out I’m starting to date this really hot blonde, and I want to do something with her tomorrow that will impress her.”
Her heart leapt and she pulled out her phone, seeing his text. “Really, who would this be?” She pretended to be unconcerned.
Beau pulled onto the main street and shifted into a lower gear. He went slowly through the city because they never plowed the streets in town.
Sara felt annoyed. “I’ve never understood how they can get away with not plowing their roads.”
Beau shrugged. “The city has no money for that.” Beau turned onto the freeway.
“I guess I’m going to your house?” She scooted over next to him and turned on the radio.
Beau ignored her question. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
“That’s part of the rules.” She kept messing with the stations.
He laughed. “Right, I forgot . . . that you can change the rules.”
“Exactly.” She flashed a wide grin.
Mr. Wrong Page 14