***
A couple hours later, Logan Bruister had been mostly brought up to speed on current events. PJ had filled him in on her job at Journeys, her relationship with Beau, and how said relationship was currently on a “break.” She had not, however, disclosed the pregnancy scare, or anything pertaining to baby-making as a whole, because talking sex with her dad was so not happening. The man had gotten twitchy as soon as she’d uttered the word “boyfriend.” Bringing up the broken condom drama would not have been wise.
There was a strong biological reason PJ sometimes lost her shit and bitches got punched. That reason was Logan Bruister. She and her father were cut from the same cloth: both built like tanks with a fiery temper to match.
“So let me get this straight,” he said now, “you took a job working with autistic kids hoping to attract an autistic kid’s father?”
“In a nutshell.” PJ lobbed a pizza crust at the trash can in the kitchen. It bounced off and hit the floor. Dinah scampered over to sniff at it.
“And now this Beau guy has found out and he’s pissed?”
“More or less.”
Her dad tucked into his fifth slice of pizza, then pivoted in his barstool as he chewed. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“That’s the cousin.” Jill snagged a mushroom from his plate and popped it in her mouth. “Don’t you remember? Fran’s other ex has the uncle and all the cousins living down the street from his mansion.”
Logan frowned. “Aren’t those guys in their thirties?”
“Beau’s only twenty-six, daddy.”
Her dad didn’t look too appeased by this. “That’s still pretty old for barely legal.”
“Oh my gosh,” Jill said, tossing her paper plate in the trash. “I’m thirty-one. You’re forty.”
“And you’re not helping,” Logan grumbled.
Jill planted a smirk of a kiss on him that had the man’s gaze tracking her curvy bottom as she sauntered from the room. Only after she’d settled down on the couch to watch cartoons with the girls did PJ’s father turn back to her with a sigh. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he said gently. “Breaking up now before you get too attached—”
“What? No! We’re not breaking up,” PJ cried. “We’re just… on a break.”
Her dad considered her for a moment, forest green eyes scrutinizing her flushed features before dropping to the bright yellow sweater-vest she’d been living in for the past sixteen hours. “Aw hell,” he said again, “you already are too attached.”
“Uh-huh,” PJ whimpered, another rush of tears blinding her.
“You love this guy?”
“I love this guy,” she said miserably. “But I fucked up. I lied to him about some stuff.”
Her dad wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed it aside. “Well, shit. Jill lies to me all the time. Tells me what she thinks I wanna hear whenever I call her from the shop to see how her day’s going. Says the girls are all ‘fine, fine’ when I know damn well they are tearing up our house and generally making it impossible for her to work from home. And I lied to her a few weeks ago, telling her I made an AA meeting when I didn’t—”
“Daaad—”
“It’s alright. I’m not in any danger of falling off the wagon. I was just tired from working late one night on the Chevy, and I forgot about it is all, and when I got home I didn’t feel like getting hen-pecked.”
PJ frowned.
“Look, I’m nine years sober, and I’m grateful as hell for it,” her dad said gruffly. “And I owned up to Jill the next morning about that lie because I’m grateful as hell to her for putting up with me—”
“And I’m grateful as hell for the c-car,” PJ cut in, her voice breaking on a sniffle.
“I know,” her dad said, smiling as he reached out to thumb away a tear. “Look, my point is, if this guy can’t accept that you’re gonna make mistakes sometimes, and if he can’t forgive you when you own up to ‘em, and if he isn’t grateful as hell for every day he gets to spend with the beautiful woman sitting before me, then maybe he’s not worth fretting over.”
“But if he can?” PJ said quietly. “If he is?”
Her dad pressed a kiss on her forehead, then winked. “Then when your break is over, tell him to come down to Lafayette and talk to me sometime. I’ve got a nice tire iron in the garage I wouldn’t mind showing off—”
“Aw, hell, Daddy—”
“What?! I just want to test out some new tools with him is all.”
“How ‘bout we go test out my new ride?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Her dad hopped up from his barstool and dumped the rest of his pizza before shouting to his girls in the living room. “Be back in a couple hours!”
PJ rolled her eyes as they headed for the door.
Chapter 48
“Wow. You look like shit, bro.”
Beau blinked at the couple staring at him. Janelle was wearing her hair in a wispy up-do to show off her pearl earrings and a long flowy sundress to show off her massive baby bump. Aaron had on gray dress slacks and an aqua polo to coordinate with his wife. They looked like the poster couple for young, happy, pregnant people, and Beau didn’t like it. He also had no idea what they were doing on his doorstep at nine o’clock in the morning. “Are we doing the switch early again?” he asked, ignoring Aaron’s chipper greeting as he let them in.
“Nooo.” Janelle eyed him with concern as she shuffled into the foyer. “It’s Sunday, Beau.”
Shit. He’d thought it was Saturday. He was off a day. What the hell had he done yesterday? Trailing the dapper couple into the living room, Beau was soon reminded.
His coffee table was littered with cereal bowls and takeout containers, and his couch was a mess of blankets and toys. Max sat right in the middle of it clutching a Nintendo remote, his bloodshot eyes glued to the TV.
“I’m guessing you didn’t get the text I just sent.” Janelle bent to kiss their son.
“Uhm, no. Been a little busy.”
“I can see that.” Janelle frowned. “I asked you to have Max dressed and ready for church. We’re trying to make the early service because I have my baby shower this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Beau glanced at their son and winced. While Max’s head hadn’t actually exploded after their gaming binge the day before, the kid was a damn mess. His hair stuck out in every direction, he had an hours old milk mustache, and he was still in the same pajamas he’d slept in Friday night. “Sorry. I must have turned my phone off.”
Janelle sighed as she glanced at her watch. “I guess we’ll have time to squeeze in the late service.”
“Sweet, bro. We’ll hang out.” Aaron sat down on the couch and snatched up Beau’s remote.
Janelle ripped the thing out of her husband’s hands. “Oooooh, no. I need you on clean-up detail. Max needs a bath.”
“Awwww. Baths is boring.”
Janelle ignored Max’s whining as she pulled a little pair of trousers and a smaller-sized version of Aaron’s polo from the giant handbag slung over her shoulder. “Don’t bring him back until he’s Facebook ready.”
Aaron hopped back up and dropped a disgustingly sweet kiss on his wife before scooping up a protesting Max, tossing him over his shoulder, and tickling him into submission. They disappeared down the hall, and Beau was left with his very pregnant ex staring him down in his very messy living room.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“Not much.” Beau gathered up the garbage on the table and carried it over to his recycle bin.
“I can see that,” Janelle said dryly.
Beau sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I missed your text and screwed up your schedule.”
Janelle took a seat on his couch, waiting patiently as Beau padded around in the kitchen. A moment later he returned with two steaming mugs.
“You’re forgiven.” Janelle sucked in the rich scent of his coffee, casting a furtive eye towards the bathroom where her caffeine-Nazi husband was currently washing down the
ir kid. With a quick appreciative sip, she glanced back at Beau. “But what I meant is what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing much,” he said, rubbing at his chin with a frown.
“Yeah, right. I’ve never seen you sporting so much beard action, and you’re probably about as ripe as Max.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. The coffee’s masking the funk. So what gives? You and PJ have a fight or something?”
Jesus. How in the hell did women know these things? They were like sharks, able to sniff out the emotional blood in the water with unerring accuracy. And by the sharp look in Janelle’s eyes, Beau was fairly certain he wasn’t going to be able to throw her off the scent.
“We had a bit of a setback,” he said gruffly.
“Sorry.” Janelle took another sip of her drink.
“Are you?” Beau set his cup down, then hit her with a sharp look of his own. He hadn’t forgotten their chat before his trip to the boathouse. Janelle obviously had some reservations about PJ, and Beau was every bit as testy about them now as he had been two weeks ago.
“Of course I am.” Janelle sighed. “Look, I’ll admit I was a bit surprised when you two got together, and also a little concerned considering PJ’s reputation.” Beau tensed. Janelle set her own cup down, turning to face him more fully. “But I’ve seen you two over the past couple weeks, Beau. I’ve seen how happy you are when you pick her up at the clinic. And Max is just wild about her.”
“I’m wild about her too.”
“I know.” Janelle patted his arm as though trying to comfort him, which was an odd gesture considering she was the one tearing up. “And the truth is, I’m just so… relieved.”
Janelle sniffed hard.
Beau’s eyes widened in alarm.
The woman was having some kind of third-trimester mood swing, and she wasn’t making a whole lot of sense.
“Relieved?” he asked, handing her a stray napkin from the table.
“Yeah. You don’t know how guilty I felt after I got pregnant the first time.” Janelle wiped at her nose, her hand settling over her stomach.
Aw, shit. She was definitely having a mood swing. After years of avoiding the awkward topic of the one and only time they’d ever had sex, it was clear by Janelle’s weepy but determined expression that she was suddenly hell-bent on discussing it.
“That night at Arnie’s party,” she managed in between sniffles, “I only really danced with you because I’d heard rumors that Aaron was sleeping with Rebecca Kennedy, and I wanted to start some rumors of my own, so when I saw you at the party, I basically jumped you, took advantage of you, and blew up your life with a baby all because I was a petty, jealous bi—”
“Hold up,” Beau said, cutting Janelle off with a wave. “I was the one who took advantage of you. I’d been drinking—”
“I know,” Janelle said miserably, “And you were way drunker than me, which is why I should have been looking out for you as a friend, not grinding on you in Arnie’s living room—”
“Nah,” Beau said. “No way was I drunker than you. You were so smashed you spilled your beer on me on the stairs.”
“No, I didn’t.” Janelle shook her head, her eyes wide. “Beau that was you. Don’t you remember? We got to the top of the stairs, and you were rambling about Arnie’s AC and complaining about being too hot, so I told you I’d get you some ice for your drink, and then you handed me your cup but ended up smacking me in the boobs with it and splashing it all over both of us.
“Shit.” Beau had no memory of any of that, except for the vaguest recollection of sticky beer running down his shirt, which is why he’d always assumed Janelle had spilled her drink on him. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Beau. I left you in the hallway upstairs, then went back down and grabbed you a daiquiri. When I came back up you started chugging it—”
“What?” Beau frowned. This really made no sense, but Janelle’s version of events was so much more detailed than the hazy one that had been rattling around in his brain for so long that it was kind of hard to refute. Beau tried anyways. “But I hate daiquiris."
“Well, you sure seemed to like that one. I only got a few sips in before you’d sucked the whole thing down. Next thing I know you were backing me up in the hallway and kissing me senseless. I mean, I was honestly kind of on the fence about the whole sleeping with you to get back at Aaron thing, but then it was like I just couldn’t think. And I just didn’t want to. I just wanted to—”
“—fuck,” Beau finished quietly.
“Yeah,” Janelle said lamely. “God, I’m sorry.”
Beau followed the trail of steam rising from his coffee, things finally starting to make sense as he stared at the cup.
He’d sometimes wondered if he’d ingested more than just a shit ton of alcohol that night, but he’d always shot down the notion because he’d made it a point to get his own drinks all evening. He’d been very careful about it up until he’d bumped into Janelle dancing.
Beau might have been into rolling the occasional joint back in the day, but that was really the limit to his recreational drug usage, and he’d damn sure known not to drink from the red cup at parties. But maybe Janelle hadn’t.
“Where did you get the daiquiri?” he asked carefully.
Janelle looked up with a start. “From the island in Arnie’s kitchen. I just grabbed one because it was the first cold thing I could find, and I wanted to help y—” Janelle stopped mid-sentence, her face paling, her hands flying up to her cheeks. “Oh my god! I drugged you—”
“We don’t know that—”
“I flipping drugged you—”
“Janelle, calm down—”
His ex wasn’t calming down. She was grabbing her baby bump, her eyes welling up again. “I’m so sorry—”
“Stop,” Beau said firmly, setting his own hand over her shaking one. The baby underneath their palms gave a nice hard kick. Janelle shut up with a hysterical giggle. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” Beau said with a smile. Then he was laughing a little hysterically too. “It really doesn’t matter.”
“But I made a mess of your life—”
“Are you kidding? My life was a mess before that night. I think you accidentally roofy-ing me might have actually saved it.”
“Beau, I drugged you, slept with you to get back at my ex, got pregnant with your baby, married you, and then dumped you to get back with my ex. How is that saving your life?”
Beau squeezed her hand. “Because you gave me Max. And he gave me purpose. It’s as simple as that.”
“But you changed so much. You stopped partying—”
“That’s a good thing,” he cut in adamantly.
“You stopped hanging out with your old friends.”
“Also a good thing. Aside from Eli, most of them were dicks. Hell, Arnie was probably the one who spiked the drinks. Wouldn’t put it past that asshole to raise his thermostat, serve up a bunch of fully loaded frozen cocktails, and then kick back to enjoy the orgy.”
Janelle sighed. “You barely even dated, Beau. I was beginning to think I’d turned you off of girls.”
Beau snorted. “Believe me. You did not. I just…” He shrugged. “Well, no one really interested me until now.”
“You love PJ.”
“Yes, I do."
“I’m glad.” Janelle smiled. “After we divorced, I felt awful, Beau. During our marriage, short as it was, you did everything right. You read all the pregnancy books and watched all the videos, you went to Lamaze with me, and you brought me extra snacks in between classes when I was waddling around campus our senior year.” They both laughed, an ease falling between them. “I knew you’d make some woman a wonderful husband,” she said when they’d quieted. “I also knew that woman couldn’t be me.”
Beau’s throat tightened as Janelle leaned in, her arms wrapping around him awkwardly. “I know who I want it to be,” he whispered as she hugged him.
Janelle smiled against his shoulder.
“Then go get her, Beau Browning.” She gave him one last encouraging squeeze, then grimaced. “But for the love of God, take a shower first.”
Beau chuckled.
Someone cleared their throat.
They broke apart, both looking to the hallway where Aaron stood with a cleaned-up Max. “Uhm, yeah, the bathroom’s free if you need it.”
“How long you been standing there, man?”
“Long enough.” Aaron shot him a crooked smile before smoothing a couple fingers over Max’s freshly gelled hair. “Now, if you’re done getting handsy with my woman, how’s about us getting a picture. I actually tamed this boy’s mop, and I am damn proud of myself, bro.”
“Sure.” Beau grabbed his phone from the table.
Aaron helped Janelle up from the couch, then tugged her over to stand in front of the fireplace with Max. Beau waited until they were smiling and Facebook ready before snapping a bunch of photos. When he was done, Aaron surprised him by waving him over. “Now you, bro.”
“Whaaat?”
“Get your butt in the shot, Beau.” Janelle whipped a selfie stick out of her giant purse and pointed it at him like a sword.
“You said butt.” Max giggled.
Beau knelt down next to him as Janelle set up the camera.
“Butt, butt, butt, butt, butt,” Max chortled.
They were all grinning from ear to ear when the flash went off.
After they’d gotten their fill of pics, Janelle sifted back through them with a smile. “I think this one’s my favorite,” she said, pausing on the silly shot of the four of them.
Beau rolled his eyes. Janelle, Aaron, and Max looked like the poster family in their perfectly coordinated ensembles. He looked like a heathen with his wrecked hair, scruffy face, and frumpy sweats. But it was kind of his favorite too. Only it was missing something. More accurately, it was missing someone. And Beau had every intention of going after her.
But first he needed that shower because he was a mess. Then he needed some advice because he had a feeling he’d made a mess of things with PJ Friday night.
Pretty Jane (The Browning Series Book 3) Page 35