The Outpost (Jamison Valley Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  “Are you coming in or not?” Beau asked.

  “Not. I like my rock.”

  “Okay.” He dipped his body back down into the water.

  “That’s it? No pressure?” I was braced and ready to defend my choice but Beau just kept swimming.

  He shook his head. “No pressure. Not today.”

  I gave him a wary glance, but he just kept lazing around in the water, floating back and forth from one edge to the other. The chill from the water must have only been temporary because he looked relaxed and comfortable.

  Evil genius. Now I wanted to get in the water.

  “Fine. You win.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Exactly.” I pushed myself up to standing and unbuttoned my shorts, sliding them off my legs. Then I went for my tank, whipping it over my head and tossing it on the rock.

  Beau’s eyes raked up my bare legs. As his gaze rose, a rush of heat followed, my skin warming from the heat in his eyes. I wasn’t worried about the cold water anymore—not in the slightest. I needed to get in that water and cool off before I did something crazy like untie my top and let it join the pile of clothes.

  I tore my eyes away from Beau’s and sat back down, putting my legs in first. One. Two. Three. I pushed off the rock and into the water, sinking all the way to my shoulders. “Oh my god,” I gasped. “That is cold.”

  I breathed through the chill and took a few breaths before looking over to Beau.

  He was rubbing his wet hands over his face. When he brought them down, his eyes were still hooded with lust. “Good?” His voice was hoarse.

  I nodded. “Good.”

  “I’m going to . . .” He trailed off and swam to the waterfall, letting the water run over his hair and face.

  Thanks for the suit, Felicity. I smiled to myself, glad I wasn’t the only person affected by the other in this pool.

  Swimming for a few minutes, I made my way around the pool but avoided the waterfall so I wouldn’t get my hair wet. Though the water wasn’t frigid, it was cool and I decided to get out and let the sun warm me back up.

  I hoisted myself up on the rock and was just brushing off the extra water drops when Beau left the waterfall and swam to the edge of the pool. “Boone!”

  The dog approached hesitantly—knowing what I didn’t—that Beau was going to pull him into the water for a bath. As quickly as Boone could swim free, he hauled his dripping body out of the water and did his doggy shake.

  “Gah!” I yelled, holding up my hands to shield my face. The yell was a mistake. A couple of droplets landed in my mouth. “Yuck.” I swallowed and fought back a gag.

  “Sorry,” Beau said, wading closer to the rock platform. “Get out of here, Boone.”

  I wiped my face and rinsed my hands in the pool, laughing at the irony of the situation. “I was just reflecting earlier on how nice it was out here, despite my previous aversion to nature. Then I get dog bathwater in my mouth and realize I’m not as close to nature as I thought.”

  Looking up from the pond, I expected to see Beau smiling at my joke. Instead he was studying my face in complete seriousness.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Is that true?”

  “What? That I don’t like dog bathwater in my mouth? Of course, who would?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “That you like it here.”

  “Oh. Well, yeah.”

  All the muscles in his face relaxed except for the corner of his mouth that turned up. “Good. That didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing, Shortcake.” He chuckled and sank backward into the water. “I’m just glad you approve.”

  Who wouldn’t approve of this waterfall or that water? Maybe he meant something else. Before I could ask him to clarify, he took a deep breath, then sank under the water. Beneath the surface, I could see him inching closer.

  I was about to move up onto my knees when he rose up out of the water and sent a streaming burst of water out of his mouth and into my face. I did my best to block the stream but I got soaked.

  “Lovely,” I deadpanned once the onslaught had stopped and water was dripping down off my nose and chin.

  “Better than dog bathwater, though.”

  I didn’t acknowledge the truth of that comment as I stood and dried off my face. “Don’t you think you’d better get out of there before you turn into an icicle?”

  He grinned and pulled himself up on the rock. Beau tugged on his tennis shoes and wadded up his dry shirt and cargo shorts rather than put them on.

  Once I had my clothes and shoes back on too, we set off back down the trail. Maybe one day I’d get the chance to visit this place again. I could take a vacation back in Montana when my ordeal with the Federovs was all over. Until then, I’d find a way to work that waterfall setting into a future novel. My memory of that magical place wouldn’t just live on in my own head but through the written word that others could cherish too.

  I smiled, thinking that place might be just the right spot for my current novel’s heroine to get frisky with her hero.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s making you smile?” Beau asked.

  Definitely not in detail. “I was just thinking about a scene for my book.”

  “How’s the writing going?”

  “Good.” I smiled. “Great, actually. I’m working on my second novel. The first one is done and pretty special, if I do say so myself.”

  “Impressive. What’s it about?”

  “Well, since I know you will never read it, I guess I can tell you.”

  “Hey, I might read it.”

  “Goliath, let me assure you, it is not your type of book.”

  “No pictures?” he asked, making me laugh. “Come on.” He nudged my shoulder. “Tell me what’s it about.”

  “Me,” I answered honestly. “It’s a lot about me and this experience.”

  “An autobiography?”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s fiction but I based the main character’s struggles on mine. She gets thrown into an unknown environment, she’s cut off from the people she loves, and she’s trying to work through some of the bad decisions she’s made.”

  “What kind of bad decisions?”

  I took a deep breath before explaining. To divulge my main character’s shame was to share my own, and I was dreading the inevitable disgust on his face and disappointment in his eyes.

  “My character is a famous actress. She earned her fame by using others as she climbed. Then she took a proposition to sleep with a director for an Oscar-winning role. In the book, she’s trying to come to terms with those bad decisions and wondering if her career was worth feeling like a whore.”

  Beau didn’t say anything and I kept my eyes glued to the path as we walked. The farther we went, the more I regretted telling him about my book. Waves of anger and disappointment rolled off his bare shoulders.

  Had I made the wrong assumption? Hadn’t he realized I’d slept with Anton? Beau was smart, so surely he’d read between the lines when I’d told him that I’d been faking a relationship, right?

  When he stopped walking, I stopped too, holding my breath as I braced for his response. Turning to me, he slid his sunglasses onto his hair. His eyes were narrowed and his eyebrows were furrowed together.

  “You feel like a whore?”

  I nodded. “Most days.”

  The concern in his eyes vanished in a flash, fury taking its place. Without a word, he turned and stormed down the path. His long legs took him away from me so quickly I had to jog to keep up.

  Tears welled in my eyes but I blinked furiously to keep them from falling. My heart didn’t just hurt, my entire body ached. I wasn’t sure what to make of Beau’s reaction, but the more distance he put between us, the more I wanted to curl into a ball and cry.

  Up ahead, the trail took a sharp curve and Beau disappeared from my sight. Panic set in at the idea of being lost in the woods alone and I
started jogging again, rushing to catch him before I lost the trail.

  Right as I was rounding the curve, Beau’s bare chest appeared and I crashed into him. My feet tripped over themselves and I would have fallen if not for his large hands gripping my arms.

  “I thought you left.” I dropped my eyes to the ground to avoid his angry face.

  “Sorry. I just needed a second to cool off and get my head back on.”

  I nodded and waved him off. “Sure.”

  So much for opening up. Why had he gotten so angry? Was my honesty really that upsetting? Our otherwise lovely afternoon was ruined. My feet were steady now and I tried to step away but Beau’s grip remained firm.

  “Sabrina, look at me,” he said gently.

  “Can we just go?” I asked our shoes.

  “Hey.” He let me go and cupped my chin, tipping my eyes to his. “We need to talk about this.”

  The last thing I wanted was to dive into this subject any further. Apparently, I had already said too much. “It’s fine,” I lied, avoiding eye contact.

  “It’s not. Calling yourself that word is not fine.”

  I jerked and my eyes whipped back to his. “What would you call me then?”

  “Brave. Selfless.”

  I scoffed. “How can you say that?”

  “Because the truth feels right. The lies hurt. And hearing you call yourself a whore felt like someone had kicked me in the gut.”

  I stared at Beau, dumbfounded, tears pooling again.

  “Don’t ever talk about yourself like that again. Ever.” He reached up and pulled the lock of hair I had been twirling from my fingers. “You did something no one else had been able to do. Putting a stop to those gun shipments saved lives. You sacrificed yourself for the good of others even though you took a major hit. Literally. Don’t forget the destination as you analyze the journey.”

  “But Beau, that wasn’t the only reason. I wanted to get ahead. I wanted to make a name for myself.”

  “I don’t believe that was your only reason.” His hands framed my face. “People do things for a lot of complicated reasons. Think about it: if you were just in it for the glory and the fame, you wouldn’t have become an investigative reporter. If you really wanted to use your looks to get ahead, you’d be in Hollywood, interviewing celebrities or some shit like that. You wouldn’t be taking stories that could get you killed.”

  “But—”

  “No.” His hands left my face and settled on my shoulders. “No. Did you take the story to get guns off the streets?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then that’s it.” He cut me off again. “Leave it there. You did what you had to do to get evidence. Do you think there aren’t cops that go undercover and have to do the things you did?”

  “I’m sure there are.”

  “Damn straight, there are. Would you call them whores?”

  “No! Of course not.”

  His eyes gentled as his point was made. “Then there you go.”

  There you go.

  My shoulders relaxed, the sting in my nose starting to fade. “Okay,” I whispered.

  I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone other than myself to tell me that I’d made the right choice. That it hadn’t just been about the fame, but the guns too. That in the end, the good outweighed the bad. Much like my writing, Beau’s words had been healing.

  Good people don’t just see the good in others, they see it in themselves too.

  My dad’s voice popped into my head. He used to say that to me whenever I was down on myself. He wasn’t here to help me through this but I was sure he’d approve of Beau taking his place.

  “You’re a good person, Beau Holt.”

  “So are you, Sabrina MacKenzie.” He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let’s go home.” With Beau leading me down the path, we made the careful descent back to the truck.

  On the drive back to the outpost, I realized that Beau had captured another piece of my heart today. Little by little, he was taking them all.

  I just hoped that when I left, he’d give them all back.

  “Looks like we’re going to get a sky show after all,” Beau said, staring out the kitchen window.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a thunderstorm rolling in.”

  I squeezed in next to Beau to look outside. Between the trees, the sky was darkening to an ominous gray, and the wind was whipping the tops of the evergreens.

  “Cool! I love thunderstorms. Seattle rarely gets them but back home in Florida they happened all the time. Lightning fascinates me.”

  “You probably won’t see much from inside.”

  I shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s still cool.”

  He sighed. “I hope it doesn’t hit town until after the fireworks show.”

  I smiled, knowing he didn’t want his little brother’s big night to be ruined by the weather. “Me neither.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll have to take a walk in the meadow,” he said. “It’ll smell pretty fucking awesome after a good rain.”

  “Sounds great.” I went back to the dishes in the sink. While I washed, Beau dried and put them away, our movements so in sync, we were like a couple that had done this together for years.

  We had come back from the waterfall and spent some time apart. I’d written while Beau had cut up a fallen tree and chopped it for firewood. Even though it was summer, I’d been lighting a fire at night to ward off the chill. I rarely used the electric baseboard heaters now that I knew how to build a fire. Only once had I made the mistake of smoking up the outpost because I hadn’t set the vent correctly. Luckily, Beau hadn’t been here when that had happened so my embarrassment—and smoky home—had only been shared with Boone.

  By the time Beau had come inside from chopping wood, my somber mood from earlier had disappeared. I’d volunteered to cook our steaks and make a salad, then we’d eaten at our makeshift cooler table on the floor, chatting about nothing serious, before we’d gotten up to do the dishes.

  “Want to play a game?” Beau asked, putting away the last plate and pulling out two glasses.

  “Sure. Cribbage?”

  “Or gin.”

  “Cribbage. You always beat me at gin.”

  He chuckled while filling up our glasses with the whiskey he’d brought earlier. Grabbing a couple cubes from the freezer’s plastic ice trays, he plopped them into the glasses and handed one over.

  I took a small sip, wincing as the burn spread down my throat and into my belly.

  “Not a fan?” Beau asked.

  “Whiskey is Felicity’s thing, not mine. If there isn’t red wine, I default to top-shelf tequila.”

  “Good to know. Next time.”

  I smiled, hoping there would be a next time and that the rekindled closeness between us wouldn’t vanish when he got back to town. I had missed him being at the outpost these last couple of months. Not just because I was lonely but because I’d often found myself wanting to tell him something or ask him a question.

  Without a doubt, I would miss Beau a great deal when I went back home to Seattle.

  An hour and two glasses of whiskey later, I was tipsy and had gotten my ass kicked at cribbage.

  “I give up.” I threw my cards on the deck. My slightly inebriated state made me happy and curious along with really bad at simple math. “Let’s play a new game. For the rest of the night, we can ask each other anything we want and the other person has to answer.”

  “Isn’t that what we always do?” he asked. “You badger me with personal questions until I finally give in.”

  I giggled. “Yes, but this time I won’t have to badger you.”

  “I’m game but we each get a pass at one question.”

  “Agreed.”

  Beau stood from the floor and put the cribbage board away, then quickly started a fire before going to the kitchen to refill his drink.

  When he tipped the bottle at me, I shook my head. “I think I’ll switch to water.”<
br />
  I’d had enough to drink, and if I kept going, there was a real chance my already-too-thin verbal filter would disintegrate like wet toilet paper. The last thing I needed was to go blurting how much I wanted Beau to satisfy the three-month-long craving I had for him.

  Beau came back into the main room and settled against the wall on the opposite side from my log chair where I was now sitting. His long legs ate up the short distance between us. With his bare feet aimed my way, I got a good look at just how big they were.

  “What size shoe do you wear?” He gave me a strange look but before he could comment, I said, “Remember. We agreed no badgering.”

  He grinned. “Thirteen.” Big. Oh, boy.

  I smiled. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now it’s your turn.”

  “Most embarrassing moment from when you were a kid.”

  “Probably when Janessa and I tried drinking for the first time. We got smashed on cinnamon schnapps and I puked all over myself and the boy I had a crush on. He never talked to me again. Even after all these years, I still can’t stomach the taste of artificial cinnamon.”

  “No Big Red gum?”

  I made a sour face and he laughed.

  “My turn.” I shifted on the chair as the wind outside the outpost started howling. “What’s the scariest thing to ever happen to you?”

  Beau leaned his head back against the wall and spoke to the ceiling. The tortured look on his face made me want to take back my question.

  “A couple of years ago, Jess, one of his deputies and me were up in the woods searching for a meth house. We found it, but before we could check it out, an old propane tank exploded. It was some sort of trap. Milo, the deputy, got third-degree burns. Jess got thrown into a fallen tree and a branch punctured his side. Lucky for me, I was far enough away that it just knocked me down but they both almost died that day.”

  “God. I’m so sorry.” My hand went to my chest. The pain in his voice was palpable.

  He lifted his head off the wall. “We got lucky. Both of them survived. But Gigi, Jess’s wife, was at the hospital when I brought them in. She’s a nurse. The scariest moment of my life was when I was sitting with her, waiting for a doctor to come out and tell us if Jess was going to live. I knew if he didn’t make it, I’d see her heart break.”