Beautifully Used (The Beaumont Brothers Book 2)

by Griscom, Susan

  “What about your shoes?” I asked.

  “Got ‘em, right here.” She held up the bag she was carrying. They’ve already done mine. This is supposed to be my last fitting, so keep your fingers crossed that they got it right. If they need to hem yours, we’ll need to come back in a couple days to pick it up.”

  We bought my shoes, or should I say stilts, and headed to the dress shop. Lena insisted I get four-inch high heels so I would look taller standing next to everyone else in the pictures. I was five foot, five, which in my opinion wasn’t all that short, but I suppose, compared to everyone else, I was. Lena was an easy five-seven, and Jackson and Brodie were both over six feet. In fact, Brodie was even a bit taller than Jackson.

  “Crap, we’re late,” Lena said, glancing at her watch. She grabbed my hand and tugged me along as we hurried down the sidewalk. In the rush, I ran smack into a wall of a guy as he came out of one of the shops we were passing.

  The collision had me tilting toward the pavement. “Whoa!” The guy held onto my arms, righting me before I fell all the way onto my backside.

  “Sorry,” I managed, and Lena turned back to check on me.

  “Are you all right?” he said, still holding on to my arms.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  He looked at Lena. “It’s Lena, right?” He released my arms and took a couple of steps back.

  “Yeah. Do I know you?”

  “We met once. I’m the new guy on the soccer team. Jeff? I came into Jackson’s bar with the team about a week ago.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Who is this?” he asked, staring at me. In fact, his beautiful grey eyes never left mine.

  “This is …” she wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pulled me close against her, “my maid of honor, Gabby. We’re on our way to pick up our dresses.”

  “Right. The big day is almost here, isn’t it?” He smiled, showing bright teeth. He ran his fingers through his over-the-ear dark blond hair, but the front came right back down over his forehead, landing in an attractive curl right above his eyebrows.

  “Yep. You’re coming to the wedding, aren’t you? I think Jackson invited the entire team."

  “Yeah, sure, wouldn’t miss seeing my man Jackson get hitched.”

  “Well, your man, is going to be my man soon.”

  “Nah. You got that wrong.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The way I see it, he’s already yours. From what I’ve heard from the guys on the team, he has been since he first laid eyes on you. We can’t even get the guy to come out and practice anymore. One of the guys on the team even said he’d tried getting Jackson back out on the slopes all winter long. He might as well sell that snowboard of his now that he has you. I hope you won’t keep him from playing soccer this season.”

  “I wouldn’t intentionally keep him from doing anything. He would have gone snowboarding but he wanted me to go and I just wasn’t quite ready for it. He refused to go without me. Maybe next year.”

  Jeff gave Lena a wry look and stuck his hand in the pocket of his jeans. My eyes fell to the muscle protruding from the sleeve of his grey T-shirt. “Yeah sure. By then you’ll be pregnant and he’ll have another excuse.”

  “I don’t think so. We want to wait on starting a family for a year or two. I’m sure Jackson will be playing soccer this fall though. He’s already told me about the team. I think he’s really excited for me to watch.”

  “Maybe you’ll play, too.”

  “Maybe I will.” Lena smiled. “Though, I’ve never played.”

  “We’re not that competitive. You’ll be fine, and maybe your friend here would be interested in playing.” His gaze swept slowly over me and I suddenly felt naked though I was far from it in the blue sundress and white cropped sweater I had on. “We always need women,” he added, his eyes fixed on mine.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be here in the fall. I’m supposed to go to Chico for school. I’m transferring there from San Diego. But if I am still here, I’d love to play. I played in high school,” I added cheerfully.

  “What do you mean? Are you considering not going to Chico?” Lena asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll see you around this summer,” Jeff said, then quickly added. “We could … practice … you know, kick the ball around?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said.

  Lena glanced at her watch. “Oh, we really need to get going. See you at the wedding, Jeff.”

  “Yeah. Nice to meet you, Gabby.” He waved his hand and headed in the opposite direction we were going. I glanced back at him, saw him turn his head and look back at me. He smiled and my stomach did a little fluttery dance. He was so very gorgeous and way out of my league, but it was nice having someone else to think about instead of Brodie. Not that I was actually in Brodie’s league either. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be.

  Lena tugged me along and we hurried to the dress shop. Upon entering the store, my eyes immediately fell upon the four mannequins all decked out in what I presumed were their top of the line and very expensive, but gorgeous wedding dresses. Turning to the left, I saw rack after rack of dresses hanging, arranged by color, style, and size.

  A woman in her early forties, I would guess, approached us immediately, greeting Lena with an over abundant amount of exuberance and gushed over Lena like she was her long lost cousin.

  “Lena, darling, you’re so beautiful, but thin. Too thin, I hope we won’t need to make any adjustments on that gown. We are running out of time.”

  “I’m the same size as I was when you took my measurements. Tanya, this is my maid of honor, Gabby.”

  “Ah good. I have both your dresses right here. Go into the dressing room and I’ll bring them to you.”

  After Tonya brought in the dresses, she excused herself and said she’d be back in a few minutes to check.

  “You are so going to tell me what is going on. Right now. What’s all this about you not wanting to go to Chico?” Lena demanded as she stepped into the white gown I held open for her.

  I looked up at her no-nonsense eyes and sighed. “I don’t know, exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t know what I want to do.”

  “I thought you wanted to be a writer.”

  “I do. I just don’t know if I want to continue on with school right now.” I’d been thinking about it for some time, but now that I’d actually spoken the words out loud, I decided that I liked them.

  “But don’t you need your degree in English to be a writer?”

  “No. It would certainly help, but it’s not required. To get a job as a journalist with a large news group I’m sure it would be required, but not to write books, and that’s what I want to do. I can continue my education, but I also want to spend more time writing. In fact, I’ve been writing, and … well, I’ve written several short stories and recently submitted a novel to several publishers. One actually responded and offered me a contract last week. I wasn’t going to say anything because I haven’t decided whether I want to use my real name or not, and I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone to know.”

  “You mean like a pen name?”

  “Yeah, exactly like a pen name.” She turned her back toward me and I laced up the dress. It had so many loops to go through I didn’t think I’d ever finish. “Jackson is gonna have a heck of a time getting you out of this.” I laughed. When she turned toward me after I finished, my mouth fell open. “Oh my! Lena, you’re stunning. Forget about him taking it off. He might not want to.”

  “You like?” She smiled as she admired herself in the three-way full-length mirror.

  “Very much. It’s just so exquisite. The way the sheer white mesh lays against your collarbone and flows down revealing just a peek at your cleavage is so elegant. The tiny pearls along the edges are so pretty and dainty, and I love the way they interspersed more pearls throughout the bodice and the skirt. You look simply radiant.”


  “You think so?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “What about the sleeves? Do you think I’ll be too hot?”

  “Hmmm … probably not. They don’t really cover much of your arm, just the top of your shoulders. I love the scalloped edge with more pearls.”

  “Thanks.” Lena smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here. Now, tell me why you don’t want to use you real name?”

  “Huh?”

  “For the book. Why don’t you want to use your real name?” I’d been so caught up in the beauty of her dress I had almost forgotten I’d even told her about my book.

  “Oh. I don’t know. It has some weird stuff in it, you know, like sex and some bad language. I’m not sure I want my mom to read it.” That explanation was only partly true. There were other things in the story that could be incriminating if a certain person were to read it.

  “I think you should use your real name. Who cares about a little bad language? A lot of books have the F word in them. Wow! I can’t believe you wrote a book. That is so utterly fantastic. I don’t think I could ever do that. What’s it about?”

  “It’s about a college-age girl who finds a strange book in the dorm room she just moved into. Weird things begin to happen to her after she begins reading it. She’d grown up in a … troubled home, and the magic in the book helps her cope with things. It’s a little dark and edgy.”

  “Sounds fun. I can’t wait to read it.”

  It did sound fun the way I explained it. Using parts of my real-life experience hadn’t been fun, but the therapy it provided was tremendously helpful. I didn’t go into much more of the plot with Lena. Mainly because, even though I could write it, it didn’t mean I was ready to talk about it. I’d never told anyone about that time in my life. I didn’t think I ever would.

  “What’s it called?”

  “Giving Everything.”

  “Well, we should celebrate. That’s fantastic!”

  “Let’s wait a week. Until I decide whether or not I want people to know, okay?”

  “Sure. Mum’s the word.”

  Chapter 11

  Brodie

  I walked into my room having left the bar early. My head pounded from the heat as I walked over to open the window and allow some fresh air into my musty room. It was hot, but the night lit up as a crackling white light streaked across the sky followed a few seconds later by thunder booming through the air. I shut the window realizing it might start raining. It was the middle of June, and for some reason already scorching as if it were July or August. The thunderstorm wasn’t unusual though, and they frequently happened without any rain. It was nine o’clock at night, and my skin gleamed with sticky sweat from the unusual humidity.

  The week had flown by, and I suddenly realized I hadn’t gotten laid the entire time. On top of that, I’d slept in my own bed … alone, all week long. Something was wrong with me. I’d taken my temperature, thinking maybe I had the flu, but I didn’t feel sick. Just, not in the mood for meaningless sex. That thought alone told me my mind needed a serious attitude adjustment.

  I pulled my t-shirt over my head and unbuttoned my pants, letting them fall to the floor in the bathroom. As the tepid spray of water streamed down from the showerhead, I stepped in carefully, closing the glass door behind me. Closing my eyes, water spilled over my face, easing some of the pain behind my eyelids. Maybe the lack of sex was giving me a headache. I tried to imagine a girl I’d recently been with, just to see if it would get me in the mood, but the only female that came to mind was, shit … Gabrielle. Under normal circumstance, picturing Gabrielle was sure to get me excited, but knowing she would never have me left me with little more than a half hard-on and very frustrated.

  After finishing my cool down in the shower, I stepped out and dried myself off. Tugging on a pair of blue boxer shorts, I headed down the hall toward the kitchen. Towel drying my hair, I bumped smack into Gabrielle. She’d been sipping a freezing cold vanilla milkshake, and the entire contents were now all over my not-so-clean-anymore bare chest, as well as her own tank top.

  “Gah!” I shouted. “What the fuck?”

  “Oh my God, Brodie. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  “Apparently not,” I said as she grabbed the towel from me and began wiping it across my chest, smearing the sticky mess around more than drying it up. I placed my hand over hers helping to sop up the shake, her eyes widened and lingered at my chest as her fingers brushed against one of my nipples. I held my breath as her fingertips skimmed down over my stomach along with the towel.

  “You’re all sticky now.”

  “It’ll wash off.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again, still trying to get the stickiness off my chest, but only managing to make my blood turn a little warmer. I should get away from her. Now.

  “No big deal. It’s okay. I’ll just hop back into the shower again and rinse it off.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, I just had one, but now you can join.” I couldn’t resist. I know, I was a cad, but she looked so gorgeous standing there, her t-shirt slick with ice cream, smelling of vanilla and being so upset about plowing into me.

  She completely ignored my offer to join me, which didn’t make sense and certainly didn’t seem like the Gabrielle I was beginning to know. That Gabrielle would have come back with something sarcastic, or some vehement refusal. I was sure of it. Instead of sarcasm, she stood there staring, her brown eyes wide with … I don’t know, horror? Jeez. Was I that bad?

  I thought it best to forego my stupid offer, and attempted to cover it up with, “Look, it’s no big deal. I’d barely dried off from the first shower. I can just hop back in.”

  She didn’t seem to hear me as she stood looking like a scared little girl, murmuring in a small soft voice, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

  I reached out to touch her arm and she flinched. “I’m not mad. Are you okay?” I asked because she was definitely not acting or sounding like herself. There was something going on inside that pretty head of hers, and I wasn’t so sure she was going to snap out of it. I touched her arm again, and she cowered back as if she thought I might hurt her.

  She slowly shook her head as though in a daze. “Please don’t make me …”

  “Make you do what?”

  She seemed so far away as she stood there mumbling, “I didn’t mean to. Please. I’ll be good.”

  “Gabrielle. What’s going on?” She took a step back, shaking her head at me. “Gabrielle!” She continued stepping away, staring at my stomach. “Gabrielle! Look at me!” I said, taking her arms in my hands. I let the towel drop to the floor and her eyes followed it. “Gabby, please look at me!”

  She finally looked up and our eyes met. Hers were glossy with wetness as a tear dripped down her cheek. She swiped at it with the back of her hand. “Sorry.”

  “What the hell is going on? Where did you just go?”

  “Nowhere.” She tugged out of my grasp and took off for the guest room she was staying in. She went inside, shutting the door.

  “What the fuck just happened?” I mumbled and took off for another quick shower.

  Chapter 12

  Gabrielle

  After closing the door, I leaned up against its hard surface and sank to the floor. I brought my knees up to my chest and cradled my arms on top of them, burying my face on top of my arms, not caring that my t-shirt was rather sticky and smelled like vanilla milkshake. Why had that awful vision come into my head? I hadn’t thought about any of that stuff for many years. Except when I wrote the book, but even then, the memories hadn’t been that prevalent in my mind. In fact, I’d felt much better after writing it all down. Giving the story to my characters instead of me had helped relieve my anxieties. Removing myself from the situation and giving the problems to someone else had been something I’d done inside my head many, many times. Writing it as someone else was just as easy. It paid off, I guess, since my new publisher and e
ditor both said it seemed so real. The editor even asked me if it had happened to me. I denied it all, of course. I always tried to see the character as someone else. Of course, I had to be careful and not be too specific in the telling of the tale. According to my editor, nobody wants to read heinous acts like that in too much detail.

  Seeing Brodie standing there dripping with sticky vanilla milkshake only made me remember that horrible time in my life. God, how embarrassing? He must think I’m a complete nutcase. It had been so uncontrollable though. Like someone else had taken over my mind. I didn’t realize it had happened until Brodie was ordering me to look at him.

  The room lit up with a bright flash of light, and three seconds later, thunder boomed through the eerie dark night. I jumped at the sound and wished it would go away. I hated thunderstorms. And thunderstorms without rain? Now that was just creepy.

  The outline of the bed in the dark seemed to dominate the space, making the room seem daunting when the light flashed. The area was small, but I didn’t need much room. Most of my belongings were still in San Diego. All I had with me now were the suitcases I’d brought, and after emptying them, my clothes seemed dwarfed by the wall length closet they hung in.

  My eyes hurt. My head hurt from all the thinking, and it took me several minutes to realize the pounding in my head was actually someone knocking on the bedroom door. When I heard Brodie’s pleas to open it, I swiped away the rest of the tears that had dripped down my cheeks.

  “Gabrielle. Please open the door.”

  “Please go away.”

  “No.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Why?”

  “Because, I need to see that you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay. Now please leave me alone.”

  “No. I need to see for myself.”

  I didn’t want to open the door and see him without his shirt. It was too embarrassing. What was wrong with me? I’d seen men without shirts before. Lain with men without shirts before, but for some reason, the sticky mess on him brought back all the horrible things from my past that I so desperately wanted to be rid of.