FRAUD: An Unfit Hero Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  She’s good.

  My hair looks better than when I get it done in Los Angeles, which usually costs me a couple hundred bucks a trip.

  “Is it okay?” Hutton asks.

  Turning around in the chair, I slowly stand to my feet, standing directly in front of her. My lips twitch as I look down at her. She’s got her lips pressed together, something she does when she’s nervous.

  “It looks perfect,” I murmur.

  She lifts her arm, playing with the strands and manipulating them where she wants them. I let her, loving the way her fingers feel in my hair, wondering if tonight will end with them in my hair again, but for totally different reasons.

  “How much do I owe you?” I rasp.

  Hutton releases my hair, taking a step back. “It’s twenty, but you don’t have to pay, Beaumont,” she whispers.

  Twenty bucks. I shake my head. “Write down your address for me, Hutton,” I remind.

  She nods as she turns toward her small notepad at the corner of her booth. I pull some money out of my pocket, setting it by her clippers, a couple hundred bucks for her. She deserves it, putting up with my ass, agreeing to dinner. For everything.

  Fuck.

  She deserves a hell of a lot more than a couple hundred bucks, and if she’ll let me, I’ll give it all to her. I’m not letting her slip through my fingers a second time. I’m ready to settle down, to have a good woman at my side and I know that Hutton is just that.

  Chapter Eight

  HUTTON

  After I watch his ass in his jeans walk away from me. Laurie magically appears out of the back. She clears her throat. Spinning around, I look up at her. She’s grinning at me as she sinks down into her chair again.

  “What happened?”

  “Like you weren’t listening,” I snort.

  Something catches my eye as I’m straightening up my area and I gasp at the neatly folded money that’s next to the trimmer. Reaching for the cash, I unfold it. There are two brand new, crisp, one hundred dollar bills.

  “That’s a big tip for a twenty-dollar cut and style,” she says then whistles.

  Shoving the money in my pocket, I shake my head. “I’ll give it back to him tonight,” I say.

  “At dinner?”

  Rolling my eyes, I grin over at her. “Yes, at dinner. You know that I agreed, but don’t think it’s anything. It’s not. It’s dinner and closure, nothing else.”

  “Do you want to know what closure really means?” she asks.

  I frown, unsure of what she means. Laurie leans forward, looking from side-to-side as if she’s going to impart some serious information on me.

  “One last time,” she whispers. “Closure means, one more fuck for the road, Hutt. I don’t think you’re prepared for that.”

  “It’s dinner and talking,” I say, emphasizing the word talk.

  Laurie snorts as she stands to her feet. She’s got a grin on her lips, shaking her head a couple of times before she finally speaks again.

  “Maybe it’s only talking, maybe not. Be open to whatever happens, Hutton. You deserve a little fun and dammit, you truly deserve some orgasms.”

  I open my mouth to say something back to her, but the door opens and her first client for the day walks in. I snap my lips closed because Miss Culpeper is one of the biggest gossips in town. The last thing I need is for her to start telling everyone that me and Beaumont are seeing each other.

  Slipping away from them, I head to the back and start to get all of my colors ready for my appointments later this afternoon. I try not to think about Beaumont the entire time, but I fail.

  I’m just finishing up my busy work when I hear a soft knock against the wall. Turning around, I see Exeter standing in the doorway. I watch her for a moment, wondering what to say, what to do. Then I see Channing’s blonde hair behind her as she pokes her head to the side.

  “Can we talk?” Exeter asks.

  I nod as they shuffle into the small room. They don’t sit down, but their concerned eyes do focus on me, and they never waver. Exeter clears her throat, and I think that she’s going to speak first, but she doesn’t. It’s Channing who speaks up.

  “Do you love him?” she asks.

  My eyes widen. I could try to pretend that I don’t know what they’re talking about, but they were there last night, just like I was.

  “I haven’t seen him in nine years,” I state.

  Exeter shakes her head. “But do you love him?”

  “I did, once.”

  Exeter and Channing exchange a look, then they both focus their attention back to me. Channing is the first to break the silence again.

  “Beaumont is special. I just want to make sure that this is real for you. He seems strong and all of that, but I think he’s struggling with his addiction. The last thing he needs is a bunch of drama, especially if it isn’t going anywhere. He’s had enough heartbreak,” she murmurs.

  I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I don’t get the chance to ask her, at least not immediately, because it’s Exeter who speaks next.

  “Beaumont is family and we just want to make sure that he’s going to be okay.”

  I blink, then let out a small laugh. “Are you here to what? Warn me off of him?” I ask.

  They shake their heads and Channing looks at her feet, inhaling a deep breath then lifts her gaze up to meet my own.

  “We’re just worried. What you guys have, it looked intense last night and Beaumont doesn’t need more intense in his life. He’s had enough in his past.”

  Frowning, I shake my head because I don’t understand what’s happening. “What has he had in the past? I haven’t seen him in nine years, so aside from rising to stardom, I don’t know much about his life.”

  Channing shakes her head. “No, this is like almost fifteen years ago, not anything recently, but it’s stayed with him…” Then she looks to Exeter before her gaze meets mine again, her eyes wide. “You don’t know?”

  “What am I supposed to know?” I practically beg.

  My head aches with confusion. They’re talking in circles, in riddles, and I just want them to come right out and say whatever it is that they’re dancing around. As if I’m not nervous enough about going on a date tonight, then Laurie starts talking about closure sex and now this.

  “You know what?” Exeter announces. “It’s not really our story to tell. I think we should go now,” she says, taking a step back.

  Channing nods, her hair flying around and then without another word, I watch them turn and practically sprint out of the room, then I hear the bell at the door signaling their hasty departure. Less than ten seconds later, Laurie appears.

  “What the hell?” she hisses.

  Looking from her to the empty doorway, I shrug. “I don’t know,” I admit.

  She frowns, looking over her shoulder, then back to me. “I’m going home with you tonight to help you pick out an outfit. If you’re going to have your closure, you’re going to look hot as shit doing it.”

  I can’t stop myself from giggling, then she does too, and by the time our next clients come, we’re in a fit of giggles and all thoughts of Exeter and Channing and of their weird visit disappear.

  BEAUMONT

  Pulling up to Ford’s front gate, I grunt. This fucker has his gates closed like he’s trying to keep people off his property, when in reality, I’m probably the only visitor he’ll have in six months. Climbing out of my truck, I walk over to the gate and push it open.

  Cursing him the entire time, I drive through the gate, put my truck in park, then get out again and close it behind me. He may not have any visitors, but if his cows or animals got out, I’d feel guilty as fuck.

  Slowly, I drive toward the front of his house, cursing him again for all of his goddamn potholes that I know, without a fucking doubt, are going to fuck up the alignment on my truck.

  Fucking Ford Matthews.

  When I’m finally in front of his place, I see him sitting on a chair beneath his cover
ed front porch, a beer in hand and a grin on his lips.

  Climbing out of the truck, I narrow my gaze on his. I spit on to the dirt before I stomp up the porch toward him.

  “Want a water? Got one in my Yeti right there,” he says, dipping his chin toward his cooler sitting next to him.

  I shake my head once. My hands on my hips as I stare at him.

  “Tell me about Hutton and your affiliation with her,” I demand, refusing to use the word relationship.

  What she and I had was a relationship. I refuse to believe that Ford had that with her. Not with his reputation. He’s fucked everyone in town at least once, usually not twice. It’s because we’re a lot alike, him and me.

  He’s been in love with Sterling LaRue since he was a kid, like me, she ran off to fulfill her dream of stardom and she made it. We all knew her as Stephanie LaRue, but she changed it when she moved out to Hollywood.

  She’s America’s Sweetheart.

  An actress.

  I’ve seen her around, I even asked Ford if he wanted me to get her information so he could talk to her, but he refused. He’s been living in the same Twilight Zone of emotion that all of us have.

  I’ve been stuck hurt and untrusting because of my mother and Chelle. Wyatt couldn’t move on past the ache that Sammi created. Rylan had been traumatized by his family, Exeter by hers and Channing by a man who was supposed to be an authority figure. I don’t know all of Louis’ story, but I know that there is one.

  We’re all fucked up one way or another, we just process it and deal with it different. Me and Ford deal with it similarly, though. Where I drink too much, he tends to isolate himself and work too much, along with having one-night stands across the county.

  Ford’s lips twitch into a grin as he looks up at me, like the jackass that he is. I don’t show him my frustration, because I know that will just egg him on.

  He must sense how serious I am about this whole thing, thankfully he drops his shit-eating grin and leans forward. I watch as he places his beer bottle on the ground, keeping his elbows on his thighs as he lifts his head to look up at me.

  “Nothin’ happened between me and Hutton, Beaumont. I feel like I’d be breakin’ some kind of confidence if I told you, but maybe you need to know,” he begins.

  He jerks his chin over to his other chair. With a heavy sigh, I walk over to it, sitting down and leaning back to look at him. He picks up the chair, then shifts it around so that he’s facing me.

  “Met her six years ago at a bar in town. Obviously, she’s not the kind of girl that frequents them. She looked lost, out of place, and she’s hot, so I slid into the seat next to her.”

  I growl, not liking the beginning of his story.

  He snorts. “We talked, then went to my truck. I took her home and before anything got started, she broke down in tears. She told me all about you, well as much as she could get out between blubberin’. Once I realized it was you that she was so torn up about, that was that. I made sure she got home okay and I haven’t seen her since, until last night.”

  Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair. “Fuck,” I hiss. “That was three years after I left and she was still tore up?” I ask.

  Ford shakes his head. “Brother, it’s been a decade since Chelle and how do you feel about her?”

  “Angry,” I grind out.

  “Hutton ain’t angry. She’s hurt, but I think she’s still in love with you. Which is why I don’t think you should play her. If you start up with her, you need to try to make it work. You can’t run off again when shit gets real.”

  “She didn’t know that she was just a booty call for me. I never even told her about Chelle, she still doesn’t know.”

  Ford stands, his chair toppling to the ground. “You were with that girl for a year,” he grinds out.

  “I know.” I nod. “Which is why she never met any of y’all. I was keeping her away, isolated, mine.”

  “You didn’t tell her? Fuck, Beaumont. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Aside from the fact that I was twenty-two?” I snort. His lips twitch and so do mine. “I was focused on my music. I was still angry with my mom, with Chelle, but when I was with Hutton, everyone else disappeared. I could have fallen in love with her and I knew she was in love with me, except I could never trust her. When I got that call that a label was going to pick me up, I thought it was my chance to end shit and run, cutting everyone’s losses.”

  “We’re assholes,” Ford announces.

  “No shit.”

  “You gonna make shit right?”

  Nodding, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my freshly trimmed hair. I smirk, remembering Hutton’s fingers in my hair. Lifting my gaze to meet Ford’s, I can’t wipe the smile from my face.

  “I think so. I like her and I felt nothin’ but regret these past years thinking about the way I let her slip through my fingers.”

  “Maybe it’s time to let Chelle go,” he suggests.

  “Think you might be right.”

  Chapter Nine

  HUTTON

  I pace. I’m dressed, though I’m sure Beaumont will be disappointed since I won’t be wearing anything remotely as sexy as the dress I wore to the concert. Laurie tried to come home with me to dress me, but I didn’t allow that. This is different than a concert, than going out with her.

  There is no way that I can go to dinner with Beaumont and not be one hundred percent comfortable, at least in my own clothes when I know that without a doubt the rest of me is going to be a mess.

  I am just that, too.

  A mess.

  Wiping my sweaty palms down the front of the thighs of my jeans, I try to calm my nerves, but it doesn’t work. I’m nervous. I should cancel. I don’t know why I even agreed to this.

  Closure, a voice whispers in the back of my head. I snort thinking about the way Laurie said I should get closure. Well, that isn’t going to happen. I’m not sleeping with him, not again, not ever.

  It doesn’t matter that his kiss made me want to climb him like a tree.

  It doesn’t matter that I can still remember the way his fingers felt against my skin a decade ago.

  It’s not happening.

  The knock on my front door causes my entire body to jerk. I stare at it, wondering what to do next. My feet are frozen to the floor, my eyes glued to the closed door. Silence surrounds me, but on the other side, I know that Beaumont is there.

  The question is, do I want this?

  Do I need this?

  The answer to both is, yes. Unsticking my feet from the floor, I force myself to walk over to the door. Glancing down, I wonder if my sleeveless shirt with a high neckline and my dark washed jeans with gold sandals are enough for a night out with Beaumont Griffin.

  Then I shake my head of the thoughts before tugging the door open. If I’m not enough just the way that I am, then he can just go away.

  When the door opens, his head is tipped and slowly he lifts his gaze, his eyes roaming over my entire body as he does. Once his eyes meet mine, I suck in a breath and hold it, waiting—watching.

  “Still prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, Hutton. This is better,” he says with a dip in his chin.

  “This?” I ask.

  His lips tip up in a smirk. “That dress…” His words trail off. “That dress wasn’t you.”

  “Maybe it was and you just don’t know me anymore,” I snap.

  Beaumont shakes his head, taking a step inside of my house. I stumble backward, wondering why I’m allowing him to step foot in my living room. Wondering why I tip my head back to look up into his dark eyes instead of placing my hand on his chest and pushing him back out the door.

  His full lips are tipped up into a smirk and my breath hitches when his hands wrap around my waist. His grip is strong, but not too tight, it’s comforting as much as I wish that it wasn’t.

  “I know you, Hutton. Fuck, I’ve never forgotten.”

  His words are sinful, meant to send a wave of emotion throughout
my entire body—and they do. My lips part in awe at the same time he groans. Then, I watch, unable to stop him, unable to resist as his head lowers and his lips find mine.

  His mouth touches my own, his tongue slipping between my lips and when he tastes me, it’s with less urgency than last night, but no less delightful. Whimpering, I lift my hands and curl my fingers in his t-shirt at his chest. He grunts, his fingers tightening their grip around my waist before he rips his mouth from mine.

  Beaumont’s breathing comes out in the same labored pants as my own as I stare up at him wide-eyed. Releasing his shirt, I try to take a step back, but his grip is still strong around my waist.

  “Beaumont,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. “Darlin’ girl, whatever you’re thinking, you need to just stop. This is happening, and you’re going to enjoy the ride,” he murmurs.

  Narrowing my gaze, I hate how cocky he is, though that’s what attracted me to him in the first place. His cockiness is a double-edged sword, and it seems that the only person who ever gets cut by it is me.

  “Nothing is happening,” I state. “We’re going to dinner, that’s it.”

  His cocky smile turns lazy as it widens and his straight white teeth appear. “Okay,” he chuckles as if I’m being cute and funny, which I’m not. At least, I’m not trying to be.

  “Let’s just go,” I sigh.

  He laughs, stepping to the side to allow me to walk past him. Taking a couple of steps, I reach down and grab my purse off of the white and gray fabric chair and march out of the house. I hear Beaumont’s boots clicking behind me on my tile flooring.

  Once he’s outside and standing on my porch next to me, I shove my key into the lock and turn it, locking my front door. Turning around, I try to walk past him, but he doesn’t allow me. Instead, he blocks my body from moving and dips his chin so that his face is just inches from mine.

  “Hutton Baker, I fucked up. I know you aren’t the kind of woman who would hold that against a man,” he murmurs.