by Devney Perry
“Dreams?” he asked, surprised by my seemingly random question.
“Yeah, your dreams. Do you have everything you want in life?”
He pulled in a deep breath before answering, his chest swelling to twice its gigantic size. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had dreams.”
Was it wrong that his sad statement made me feel better? Maybe I didn’t need dreams either.
“I’m not really a dreamer,” he said. “I set goals and work hard to achieve them.”
Goals. I liked that. The word itself seemed less daunting. Goals were reached methodically. Goals were within one’s control. If you missed a goal, your soul wouldn’t be crushed and your hopes wouldn’t be shattered. You’d just reset your priorities, make a new plan and trudge onward. Heartache and disappointment were not part of the equation.
Forget dreams. Beau’s goals sounded like just the thing for me.
“Tell me more about your goals.”
“I wouldn’t say they’re anything out of the ordinary. They’re probably fairly similar to most peoples’. I’ve got the only job I’ve ever wanted. After twelve years, I still like going to work every day. I have a good relationship with my family, and the time we spend together is fun. I love my town and do my best to support my community. My biggest goal is not fucking that up.”
He bent to pick up a long stem of grass, twirling it between his fingers. “But you asked, do I have everything I want in life? No, not yet. I would like a family someday. A wife. Kids of my own. I want to make memories with them like the ones I have from my childhood. Take them to all those places my dad took me.”
“I’m intrigued.”
He smiled. “It wasn’t anything fancy. My parents didn’t have a ton of extra cash for five people to fly all over the world so we mostly just traveled around Montana. We camped and fished in the summer. Went skiing in the winter. My dad bought a ski boat when I started high school so, from that summer on, we went waterskiing as much as we could.”
His childhood vacations sounded simple and pure. The exact opposite of any family trip I could remember.
“My parents only believed in enlightening travel experiences,” I told him. “My entire life, I can’t remember a single trip we took that was just for fun. You’d think that since we lived in Florida, they would have at least taken us to Disney World, but I’ve never been.”
“Child abuse.” He grinned, tucking the piece of grass he’d been twirling into the hair behind my ear. “I’ll make you a deal, Shortcake. When the mafia isn’t a threat, you’re not considering WITSEC and life goes back to normal, I’ll meet you in Disney World and take you on the vacation six-year-old Sabrina never had.”
I smiled. “You’ve got a deal, Goliath.”
“Good. Now, tell me. What exactly are ‘enlightening’ travel experiences?”
I laughed and told him all about the trips I had taken in my youth.
He listened to me talk about the month we had spent in Europe, bouncing from country to country. How we had all contracted bed bugs in one of our last stops and brought them back home.
He laughed when I told him that my parents had taken us to China and gotten sick one night when they’d insisted on eating duck heads and deep-fried scorpions from a street vendor.
He smiled when I told him about the beach cottage my parents had rented one winter on the Oregon coast. My parents had purposefully reserved it during the worse possible season so we would learn to appreciate the warm weather of Florida. My brothers had obviously learned the intended lesson since they hadn’t strayed much from home but, much to my mom’s chagrin, I had found the rain mixed with the salty air comforting. That trip had inspired me to choose Seattle when I was browsing colleges.
“It was eye-opening to see different cultures and environments,” I said, “and it wasn’t that the trips were horrible. My parents paid a lot for them, so I don’t want to sound ungrateful. But when my friends came home from their summer breaks with stories about amusement parks and beach expeditions, I was so jealous. Teenage me didn’t appreciate my experiences like I do now.”
“So, you just needed time. Does that mean one day you’ll appreciate this enlightening travel experience?”
I laughed. “Yes, I’m sure I will. What would you say your most educational trip has been?”
“Probably my senior class trip to Washington D.C. It was the first and only trip I’ve ever taken to the East Coast. It was my first real trip period. Before then, I’d never been on an airplane. Hell, I’d rarely ever stayed in a hotel room before that. The museums and monuments were awesome but the whole travel adventure itself was what I remember the most.”
“Have you traveled much since?” I asked.
“Nah. I went to Denver with some buddies for a concert in college. Vegas for a party weekend. Michael’s the traveler in our family. He takes a vacation at least once a year to someplace exotic. Maisy probably would too if it weren’t for Coby. I’m content to stay here where I belong.”
Where he belonged.
Where I didn’t.
Why did that idea bother me so much? It was the truth.
I had no desire to live in rural Montana. I’d go crazy in Prescott. I needed fast-paced streets and faceless crowds. I needed to live in a county where there were more people than cows. I was a city girl.
Even if I liked the clear night skies of the mountains. Even if I liked the quiet evenings blessedly free of traffic noise. Even if I liked the longer days because I wasn’t wasting time waiting for a late bus. I was a city girl.
So why wouldn’t the knot in my stomach go away?
It had to be this crazy fucking situation, right?
Right.
Having my life turned upside down was unearthing all of these new doubts.
Being around Beau wasn’t helping.
This pull I had toward him was magnetic, the strongest I’d ever felt toward another person. In the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, I pictured a relationship with him. I pictured a life with him.
Impossible pictures.
Beau needed a woman who would be his camping co-captain. Who would trail along behind him on an outdoor adventure as he taught their children about wildlife and navigating forest trails. A woman who would love his sleepy town and going to the small-town high school’s football games each Friday night.
He needed a woman who didn’t get ecstatic at the sight of a hair dryer and designer jeans.
So why, when I knew all these things, were they so hard to accept?
Because I liked him that much.
It probably wasn’t helping that he was giving me mixed signals. He was so damn affectionate. Was this how he was with his other female friends? The hair touching. The hand-holding. The hugs. He’d gone to high school with Felicity; I wished I could ask her.
But since I couldn’t, I resigned myself to putting some distance between us.
Somehow, I had to kill these silly feelings. These silly dreams.
I was done dreaming.
My goal was to survive this experience and go home, without a broken heart.
As we walked back to the outpost, I made sure to let Boone run between our feet so my shoulder couldn’t brush against Beau’s arm. I cooked him dinner, insisting that he hang out in the living area so I had full control of the kitchen and wouldn’t risk bumping against him. And while we watched a movie together, I curled up on my cot while he sat on the log chair, three feet away.
I had done well all evening, establishing distance, but when I emerged from the bathroom, wearing pajamas and my long hair tied in a sleek ponytail, I couldn’t resist climbing into the bed Beau had laid out on the floor and sleeping in his strong arms.
Beau
“Unka Bo!”
“Hey, buddy.” I bent low to catch Coby as he launched his small body at my legs. With one quick toss, he was flying in the air, nearly skimming the ceiling. I’d missed his little laugh and squeal so much, I did it again.
“Go
od thing we’ve got tall ceilings in here,” Maisy said.
The lobby of her motel wasn’t a big space but it was nice and inviting. I had helped Maisy remodel it and her adjoining office when she’d bought the motel from the previous owners. Maisy had great style but a small budget, and I’d spent more weekends than I could count helping her fix it up so she could save some cash.
Propping Coby on my side, I reached out to give Maisy a one-arm hug. “Thanks for having me over for dinner.”
“Anytime. We’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you guys too.”
“I’m glad we’ll finally have a chance to catch up.”
Maisy wanted the full scoop on Sabrina and how things had gone at the outpost this last month. There had been so much activity since I’d come home after those first three weeks I hadn’t had the time to catch her up.
Instead, I’d been putting out fires.
Work was a disaster. When I wasn’t at the outpost, I was in the office, picking up dropped balls and getting projects back on track from my three-week disappearance. I’d only taken one break and that was to have dinner at my parents’ house.
Mom and Dad had wanted to know all about my fake search and rescue case so I’d spent the meal evading questions. Luckily, Maisy had been there too and she’d helped distract them with stories about motel guests.
“Do you need to finish anything?” I asked, glancing around the lobby. “I can hang with Coby for a while if you need to stay down here.”
She shook her head. “I’ll just put a sign up for people to call if they need anything.”
Most of the year, Maisy was a one-woman show at the motel. During the summer tourist season, when things were at their busiest, she’d hire a part-time housekeeper to help clean and do the laundry, but even then, she worked from sunup to sundown.
I was proud of my sister for making this a successful business. Her hard work had built a great life for her and Coby.
While Maisy locked the door, cleared off the front desk and shut off the light in her office, I tickled and teased Coby. Then we went up the stairwell that led to her small loft apartment above the motel’s lobby.
“Pway Wegos,” Coby said, pulling me to his room the second we crossed into his home.
I looked over my shoulder at Maisy, who was smiling and waving us out of her way. “I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
“Thanks.” I had spent so little time with Coby the last month I couldn’t believe how much he’d changed. He was right in the middle of the transition from toddler to little boy. Maisy had cut his hair recently and he looked more grown-up than ever.
Playing Legos with him was exactly what I’d needed to let go of some of the stress. After playtime and an awesome meal, Maisy gave Coby a bath and I tucked him into bed. Then Maisy and I settled on opposite sides of her couch to talk.
“So, how is Sabrina doing?”
“She’s okay. The beginning was rough but I think she’s getting settled.” Rough was an understatement. When I’d seen the pained and terrified look in Sabrina’s eyes that first night, I’d almost loaded her back up in the truck and brought her home with me.
“Have all of her injuries healed okay?”
I nodded. “Her ribs are still tender but everything else is fine.” Sabrina’s face was back to normal. Her full lips and perfectly shaped nose were no longer covered in welts and gashes. She was as beautiful a woman as I’d ever seen.
Maisy grinned and mischief flickered in her eyes. “And you two got along okay?”
“Maze, stop.”
“What?” she said, feigning innocence.
“No matchmaking. Save it for your single friends or Michael.”
“I’m not matchmaking, but I’m not blind. That woman totally liked you and you’re no good at hiding a crush from me, big brother.”
Damn it. There was no point in pretending she wasn’t right. “I like her,” I admitted. “She’s smart and funny. We have a good time together. I just don’t see us having a future. The second she’s free to return to the city, she’ll be gone in a flash and never look back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know it. Trust me, Maze. She doesn’t have a country bone in her body.”
“People change, Beau.”
“Not that much.” I couldn’t get my hopes up with this one. Sabrina was everything I’d ever wanted in a woman but fitting her into my lifestyle was the definition of square peg, round hole.
“You could move with her.”
I scoffed. “Me in the city? I’d hate it.”
Besides that, who else could do my job? Or be around to help Maisy with her motel remodeling projects? Or be a father figure to Coby? That kid needed me in Prescott. A lot of people needed me in Prescott. Which meant when Sabrina went back to Seattle, I’d be left behind.
“Well,” Maisy said, “I don’t think you should count her out yet. She might end up liking it here if you two got together.”
I shook my head. “I’ll do whatever I can to keep her safe, but our relationship is going to stay platonic.” Anything more would be asking for trouble.
I’d already gone too far.
Sleeping with Sabrina in my arms had been a huge fucking mistake. It was too easy to picture her there for good. It was the best sleep I’d ever had. When I’d left the outpost three nights ago, I’d known it was time to pull back. I was getting way too fucking attached.
My life was here in Prescott and Sabrina’s was in Seattle. This was temporary.
Which meant it was time to put some distance between me and the outpost.
No more staying the night. No more cuddling and sleeping together. No more kidding myself that she’d learn to love it here.
Because she’d never stay.
My eyes were closed but I knew Beau was moving in. The heat from his full lips intensified as they came closer and closer. My heart pounded louder with every passing second that his lips hovered above mine but didn’t touch.
I fought to keep my eyes closed, but eventually, I gave into the temptation and opened them. Beau’s gaze was waiting to lock with mine. His eyes were a hurricane of gray and blue clouds, darkening with every one of his heavy pants. The erection against my hip was swelling, hard and thick. I lifted my hips up further, wanting my body touching its entire length.
His tongue darted out and touched his lip, causing a wave of heat to pool between my legs. I desperately wanted to be the one to wet that soft, pink bottom lip. I slowly lifted my head, inching my face closer to his, but then he was gone.
Beau’s head jerked back a foot, recoiling from me like a spring. His arm yanked from underneath my neck. The hand that had lifted up my camisole to splay across my ribs was now held high in the air like he’d touched a hot plate. The desire in his eyes had vanished, replaced by disgust. The top lip I had been longing to feel against my own was now curled up on one side.
He didn’t have to explain. I knew exactly why he had retreated.
Beau Holt did not get involved with whores like me.
I pressed my face further into my pillow and groaned. That dream was getting old. Really fucking old.
I’d been having the same one off and on for the last couple of weeks. It was almost guaranteed that I’d have it after writing a sex scene in my novel, and since yesterday I’d written a doozy, it came as no shock that Beau had found my sleep. If only I had the ability to change that ending and feel his lips move against mine. Even if it were all in my head, I’d take it. I was beyond sexually frustrated—another side effect of writing sex scenes.
Beau’s presence always left me charged, so the fact that he’d been scarce lately should have cooled me off. But here I was, desperate for some relief.
It had been over a month since Beau had spent the night at the outpost. Not since the day he had forced me into the shower and out of my funk. The same night we had crossed some invisible emotional boundary, causing him to pull back and put some distance between us.
After I had crawled into his arms that last night, we’d talked in hushed voices, laughing and teasing one another. Minus the actual sex, it had been the most perfect postcoital cuddle of my entire life. It had been intimate and raw. Real and honest. The threads connecting our hearts had felt stronger, like industrial chains rather than loosely woven fibers.
The next morning, I had woken up alone, something I hadn’t done since I’d started sleeping with Beau on the floor. He had avoided my eyes and left not long after breakfast.
Since then, he had only come up for brief, once-a-week day trips. He’d leave Prescott in the morning, arriving at the outpost before lunch. We’d share a quiet but polite meal before unpacking whatever supplies he’d brought, then he’d say good-bye, leaving to make the three-hour journey back to town so he could get home before dinner.
The distance was a good thing—my new mantra.
Yes, it had dinged my pride to feel that rejection from Beau but it really had been good for me.
During the first month at the outpost, I had let myself get swept up in all that Beau goodness. His strength. His gentle nature. His calming essence. I had convinced myself that I’d be fine at the outpost as long as he was by my side.
But he’d left and I had found a new determination to make this work on my own. I’d prove to myself that I could stay in this place alone. That I could be content here. I’d take back some of the independence I had lost when I’d been forced to hide in the woods.
Those were my goals.
My plan for achieving them was simple.
Write a book.
Now, a month later, it was almost done.
Forcing my face out of the pillow, I sat on the edge of my cot, swinging the sleep from my legs as I stretched my arms to the ceiling. Boone crawled out from beneath me and rested his chin on my thigh for a good-morning scratch.
“Last chapter today, buddy,” I said. “Let’s get after it.”
Quickly showering and blow-drying my hair, I threw on my freshly hand-washed jeans and a simple white T-shirt. The June weather was cool in the morning, but by mid-afternoon, the outpost would be quite warm and I would drag my chair outside to write in the shade of the trees.
