by Carly Bloom
“Kind of a man-whore,” Claire said.
The word whore was offensive, but Alice was too tired to say so. “Beau isn’t my boyfriend. In fact, we’re not even dating. He’s simply agreed to accompany me to Brittany’s wedding, and I’m helping him with something in return.”
Claire opened her mouth, but Alice cut her off.
“And I’m not at liberty to say what, so please don’t ask. We’re just letting folks think what they want to think. And anyway, it’ll all be over as soon as Brittany finally freaking gets married.”
“Aw,” Claire said with a pout. “Y’all are going to break up?”
“No, because we’re not really dating.” She thought for a moment, and then added, “But yes.”
“Um, Alice,” Carmen said. “Before you and Beau break up, you should definitely consider trying that sex with a human thing, at least once.”
“Why? Sixty-five percent of women don’t climax during intercourse. A vibrator provides a more satisfying experience.”
“There are some things you can’t get from a vibrator, though,” Maggie said.
Claire nodded in agreement. “Like warm hands that aren’t your own. The touch of another person is so . . .” Claire shivered instead of finishing her sentence.
“And then there’s the emotional connection when it’s someone you care about,” Maggie said. “The first time Travis and I had sex, we were wearing Halloween costumes, and it was anonymous. And it was freaking fantastic. It was kinky and fun, and I was so turned on I actually had an orgasm. But the second time was even better. Because we knew each other then. And the connection we shared—the love we made—well, it was mind-blowing.”
“With Ford,” Claire said. “There’s always been this sense of falling into him. I can’t tell where I end and he begins. It’s weird, and I’m not doing a very good job of expressing it. But it’s practically spiritual.”
“That was an excellent way of expressing it,” Maggie said.
“The best sex I’ve ever had is with friends,” Carmen said. “I don’t really believe in romantic love—not for me anyway—but deep emotional friendship paired with physical attraction is my jam. There is nothing like it.”
When Alice had been in Beau’s arms, pressed up against his naked body, they’d been playing and laughing and enjoying each other’s company—like friends—just moments before. But when she’d looked into his eyes, she’d had that brief sense of falling that Claire mentioned. And her skin had tingled and buzzed beneath his hands.
Sex would probably be pretty amazing.
The other women sat quietly, wearing little grins. They were all so different, yet deeply supportive of each other. Each one seemed lost in her own thoughts, yet the feeling of connection was almost palpable. Maggie smiled at her, and Alice realized they were sharing a moment of comfortable, companionable silence.
That was something friends did. And it was nice.
Chapter
Eighteen
The crickets and tree frogs started up nature’s sonata as Beau and Alice sat on the open tailgate, swinging their feet. He was doing his best to be jovial, but he couldn’t shake the shame and guilt he felt over having told Worth to lock those cows in a dry pasture. God. He could have fucking killed them. What kind of a ranch foreman penned his cattle up in a dry pasture? He longed to unload his feelings, but he was too embarrassed.
Soon, everything would rest on his shoulders. He’d thought he was ready, but this had really shaken his confidence.
“It’s so peaceful here,” Alice said. “Do you come to this spot often?”
“Every chance I get.”
A lot of the times when folks probably assumed that he was out chasing women, he was actually out here, lying in the bed of a pickup all by himself, staring up at the stars. There was nothing better than losing himself in the dark night sky.
“I bet you and Bryce played here a lot when you were kids.”
“Not Bryce. Just me.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah. This is my special place.” He winked at her. “Consider yourself special.”
Alice looked down at her swinging boots—they’d gone boot shopping after tutoring on Wednesday—but Beau could see the little grin on her face.
“Anyway, I used to sneak off and spend hours out here, having adventures and whatnot. This was Beau Country, where it didn’t matter if you struggled in school, or who was the smarter twin.”
“Bryce is not the smarter twin. You’re both smart.”
“He’s pretty dang smart, Allie. He got that scholarship to A&M. I never could have done that.”
“There are plenty of students with dyslexia at A&M. They’ve just taken the necessary steps to mitigate it, and they take advantage of the tools and assistance available to them, which is something you seem a bit reluctant to do.”
Beau rubbed his palms on his thighs and took a deep breath. “I messed up. I misread a text, and it could have killed some cattle.” He stared straight ahead, too ashamed to look her in the eye.
The feel of Alice’s soft fingers on his chin startled him. “Look at me,” she said, turning his face to hers. “Everyone messes up. And I’m assuming the cattle are fine. But Beau, you probably shouldn’t communicate via text if it’s something important. And yes, that’s going to mean telling people not to text you, and it’s going to mean telling them why.”
She hadn’t removed her fingers, and her thumb lightly tracing the cleft in his chin made it hard to focus on words. But he still heard them, and Alice was right.
Her eyes dipped down to his lips, almost as if she wanted to—
“It sure is getting dark fast,” she said, suddenly dropping her hand to her lap and staring up at the sky.
She’d chickened out, but Beau had no doubt that she’d wanted to kiss him. The idea of it had him tingling all over. “Good. It’s kind of necessary if you want the stars at night to be big and bright . . .”
He waited for it, and after a few seconds, Alice grinned and performed the customary three claps, before singing the words, “Deep in the heart of Texas.”
“Atta girl.”
Alice giggled, and it was like windchimes, only windchimes didn’t send a wave of butterflies through his belly. It was time for the first surprise of the evening.
“You know, if this were a traditional pasture party,” he said, sliding the ice chest over, “you’d have your football player types over there on the left, and your rodeo types there on the right. And in the middle would be a keg of beer, brought by somebody who shouldn’t still be hanging out with high school kids but can’t get over his glory days.”
Alice laughed. “And where are the cheerleaders?”
“All the girls are huddled along the back row of pickup trucks, needing to pee but not wanting to do it out here. And they’re chugging cheap Strawberry Hill that somebody’s older sister bought at the Pump ’n’ Go.”
“You’re good with details.”
“I attended many a pasture party.” He opened the ice chest and pulled out a bottle of wine. “And since you and I can’t handle an entire keg by ourselves, I purchased this.”
Alice looked at the bottle. “I have never tried Strawberry Hill.”
“Do you like a crisp, dry wine?”
“Yes, that’s—”
“Not what this is,” Beau said, unscrewing the lid. “You’re going to hate it. And I didn’t bring cups, so . . .”
Alice took the bottle. “Bottoms up.”
Allie took a healthy, impressive sip with nary a wince. “Yikes,” she said, passing the bottle. “That is toe-curling sweet.”
“Hefty alcohol content. It’ll get you in trouble pretty damn quick if you’re not careful.”
“I’ve never been drunk, and I have no intention of adding the experience to my bucket list.”
“Smart woman,” Beau said, taking a quick swig and handing the bottle back.
“I can’t believe you fixed such a delicious dinner tonight. I’m not
much of a cook, myself.”
“My mom talked me through it, if it makes you feel better. And she told me I couldn’t use paper plates, so you have her to thank for the nice dishes, too.”
“Did she also tell you to pick the pretty flowers?”
“Nope. I did that all by myself.” He hadn’t had a vase, but a Mason jar had worked just fine. Next time he’d be prepared with candles. Allie would be pretty in candlelight.
“There’s the Milky Way,” he said, pointing at the sky. “Also, I brought a second surprise. Hold on.”
He hopped off the tailgate and went around to retrieve the telescope from the back seat. He grabbed it before giving the door a shove with his hip. As he turned to walk back to the tailgate, he caught sight of Alice—feet swinging, staring at the stars, bottle of Strawberry Hill in her lap—and froze.
She looked as if she belonged here every bit as much as the giant oaks and the prickly pear cactus and sharp-scented juniper trees . . . It felt right. And that was weird. Because this is where Beau came to be alone. He shook his head and grinned. He could get used to this.
It was too bad he wouldn’t get to.
“You okay back there?” Alice asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Yep. Have you ever peered through a telescope?”
Alice hopped off the tailgate. “You brought a telescope?” She clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet.
Beau’s heart seemed to expand inside his chest, making it hard to breathe. He was sharing his sky with Allie. And he’d never shared his sky with anyone.
Beau Montgomery was full of surprises. So many, in fact, that Alice was having a hard time keeping up. “This is a really good telescope.”
“It’s adequate,” Beau said simply. “I bought my first one at fifteen, and I bought this one last year.”
He quickly set it up, messed with some knobs, pointed it this way and that, and invited her to take a look.
“Wow,” she said, staring through the eyepiece. And wow was a totally inadequate word, because the view was amazing! She wasn’t even sure what she was looking at, but she didn’t care. The view was dizzyingly beautiful, and for the next few minutes, Beau let her hog the telescope while he lectured on nebulas, galaxies, black holes, and probably some other things. It was hard to focus on the sky or his lecture when the only heavenly body she was interested in was right here on Earth. And standing so close.
He put his hands on her hips to gently nudge her aside so he could peek through the telescope himself. And when it was her turn again, he stood behind her, touching her in a myriad of what were probably mindless and unconscious ways.
A big warm hand on the small of her back.
Squeezing her shoulder.
A small oopsie when she stepped back and bumped into him.
It felt like one of those dumb movie moments where the hero assists a woman in improving her tennis game or golf swing. Or where he helped her shoot a gun or cast a fishing line or—
Beau’s breath brushed the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Do you see it? Is it in focus for you?”
See what? How could she focus on anything with his hand resting casually on her left hip? She wanted to step back and melt into him, to be completely enveloped in his arms . . .
“Shooting star,” he said suddenly, pointing up.
Alice only caught the tail end of it, but she shivered from the thrill. She hadn’t seen too many shooting stars in her lifetime. Probably because she was usually looking at a schedule or a calendar or a book.
“Are you cold?” Beau asked. “It can get chilly up here on the bluff, even this time of year.”
She wasn’t cold at all. Just excited. But Beau was already walking back to the truck.
“I have a sleeping bag,” he said. “And since we just saw our first shooting star of the evening, it’s time to crawl in the bed of the truck and do some proper sky-scouting.”
Was he suggesting they lie down in the bed of his pickup? Next to each other?
Beau shook out the sleeping bag. Then he unzipped it and laid it out like a blanket, smoothing all the wrinkles. He held a hand out to Alice. “This time of year, we should see some more. Meteor showers abound.”
Alice took his hand, hoping he couldn’t feel how she trembled.
“Damn, woman. You don’t have enough meat on your bones. You’re shivering like a leaf.”
He started to unbutton his shirt. That wasn’t going to do anything to squelch the trembling, but she watched silently as he finished with the buttons. He wore a plain white T-shirt underneath, which was both a relief and a disappointment.
“Here, put this on,” he said, wrapping it around her shoulders.
It was warm from his body, and it smelled like his aftershave.
Beau stretched out, flat on his back, placing one arm behind his head and extending the other out to his side. “I didn’t bring any pillows, but you can rest your head on my arm, if you want.”
She did want. Very badly. So, she tentatively leaned back, resting her head against his muscular arm, which was surprisingly comfortable. She looked up and . . .
“Oh,” she said. “I feel so—”
“Small?”
“Yes.” Beyond small. In fact, she felt lost. Unanchored. Like she might float away into the black abyss. But Beau was warm and solid. Maybe she wouldn’t float away, after all.
“If you’re this small, imagine how tiny your troubles are.”
That was a delightful notion, and it made her smile. “Is this something that happened at pasture parties? Lying in the beds of pickups?”
“Yes, and no,” Beau said.
“Oh?”
“Yes, people cuddled up in the beds of pickups, but no, they weren’t typically looking at the stars while they did it.”
“What were they doing?”
“Making out like fiends.”
Oh.
“I’ve never made out in the bed of a pickup truck.” She’d blurted it out in the hopes that Beau would suggest—
“Maybe you should add it to your bucket list.”
Was he simply making a suggestion? Was he flirting? Was she flirting? Where was the instruction manual? “I didn’t bring the bucket list.”
Dang it! Dumb thing to say dumb thing to say dumb thing to say . . .
“We could make out now and write it down later.”
She swallowed loudly. There it was. He sounded so confident. Like he’d made out in the bed of a pickup truck a million times. Probably because he had. He’d be a good teacher, right? And it wouldn’t mean anything to him. This was Beau Montgomery. Kissing women was like breathing for him.
No big deal.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Let’s make out.”
“For real?”
Holy guacamole, what if he didn’t want to? His voice sounded weak and shaky. What if she’d made a rather large assumption? Beau was a playboy, but that didn’t mean he played with just anybody. He’d never shown a lick of interest in her, and now she’d put him in this horrible position. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine—”
Beau rolled onto his side, leaning on his elbow and bringing his face mere inches from hers. “I want to.”
“Okay, but we need some ground rules.”
“Always,” he said, grinning.
“Just kissing.”
“Scout’s honor that I will not try to sneak past first base.”
“We’ve already established that you were kicked out of the Boy Scouts—”
Beau looked at her lips, and she lost her train of thought. He traced his thumb over her bottom lip, and holy guacamole, that felt nice. Even in places that were nowhere near her lips.
He cupped her chin and kissed her with lips that were soft, warm, and sweet, like Strawberry Hill, holding her mouth with a gentle suction that shot sparks up and down her spine. She was the one to intensify things with a timid flutter of her tongue, and Beau accepted the gesture, opening his mouth and deepening the k
iss.
He pressed himself against her, and Alice’s body became an entity completely separate from her brain. There were no thoughts or desires, just an aching, frantic need. Her skin wanted contact everywhere, all at once, so she pulled Beau even closer, loving the weight and feel of him. She explored the landscape of his back, and then ran her fingers up to his hair.
She wanted to touch every inch of him.
Beau groaned and thrust his tongue into her mouth, invading it completely, showing no mercy at all. True to his promise, he kept his hands to himself, and Alice began to regret the ground rules. Her body craved his touch so badly that it was almost unbearable, and she rubbed against him frantically, craving friction. Her hands went from his hair to his firm butt. She wanted him to move in a certain way . . .
She was out of control, and it was wonderful.
Beau broke the kiss and raised up. And then, while staring directly into her eyes, he began to move his hips with a fluid, gyrating motion. Alice gasped at the feel of his erection, and to keep herself from going mad and wrapping her legs around his waist, she reached up and pulled him back for more kissing.
She moaned and bit his lower lip. She was insatiable. Beau could kiss her from now until the end of time, and she would never get enough.
He stopped and looked at her, panting and gasping for air. Despite the chill, his cheeks were splotchy and red. “Damn, Allie Cat. For someone who’s never made out in the bed of a pickup before, you’re really good at it.”
“Am I?” She sounded just as breathless as he did.
“Yes. You’re driving me crazy.”
He looked a little crazy. She’d thoroughly mussed up his hair, and his lips were swollen—as were other parts. She liked the feel of him, hard and thick. “Do we have to stop, Beau?”
“No, darlin’. I could kiss you forever.”
Chapter
Nineteen
Bryce parked the truck in front of the Kowalskis’ ranch house. “Wake up, dumbass.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
Not technically anyway. But he was definitely lingering on the edge of dazed. Borderline comatose. Because after getting home at two in the morning and taking an extremely cold shower, he’d risen early to escort Nonnie to church, where he’d entertained deliciously dirty thoughts while Miss Mills played the organ and Nonnie sang off-key. That was followed by brunch at Chateau Bleu and Nonnie’s endless inquiries about Alice.
