She was pretty sure she wouldn’t like what she saw if she did.
Chapter Nineteen
A fist pounding on wood roused him from a dead sleep, but it was the panicked voice yelling his name that had him yanking on his pants and running for the door. He opened it to a red-faced, crying Lottie.
She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Beau! You have to help her. She’s dying.”
He knelt to get on her level. The cobwebs in his brain made it hard to unscramble what she was saying. “Slow down, Lottie. Who’s dying?”
“My mom,” came out on a big shuddering breath. “She’s sick. She says she’s dying.”
“Hang on.” He grabbed a t-shirt and shoved his bare feet into a pair of boots. “Let’s go.”
They ran into the house, and Lottie led him to the bedroom where a pale, sweaty-faced Hailey lay in a messy nest of covers. Beau would’ve thought she was dead if weren’t for the moaning, and her head rolling from side to side.
The smell of sickness slammed into him. It immediately transported him back to Clyde’s bedroom, where the stench of impending death circulated in the air like ravenous, black vultures gathering for a meal. He forced oxygen in and out of his lungs and willed himself to hold it together for the little girl next to him. He’d have his moment of grief later when he’d taken care of Hailey and her daughter.
“Lottie, do you know how to call May?”
The worried little girl didn’t take her eyes off her mom. “Yes.”
“Go call her.” He took her shoulders and turned her away from the picture of Hailey in the bed. “Go call May and ask her if she can come to get you ready for school, then drive you there.”
She grabbed his forearms. “But my mom—”
“Will be fine. We might have to make a quick trip to the clinic, though.”
“Okay.” Little fingernails dug into his flesh. “Don’t let her die.”
“Lottie, she’s not dying, but I bet she feels like she is. I’ll take care of her.”
Thin arms went around his waist, and she buried her face in his side. “Thank you, Beau.”
“It’s going to be alright, darlin’. You did the right thing by coming to get me.” He ran his hand over her riot of dark curls. “Go call May, then get ready for school.”
After Lottie left the room, Beau went into the bathroom to get a washcloth. He ran it under cold water, then went to Hailey’s bedside. “Hailey.” He gently shook her shoulder. “Hailey, I’m here.”
Her bleary eyes cracked open just a tad. It either took her a minute to recognize him or for him to come into focus because she blinked several times before she spoke. “Beau? What are you doing here?”
He laid his palm on her forehead. Her skin was on fire. He replaced his hand with the cold rag, and she sighed. “Lottie came to get me. She thought you were dying.”
She grasped at his shirt but didn’t have the strength to get a good grip. “I am. Take care of Lottie. Don’t let Derek and Ariel have her.” Tears streamed from her glassy eyes into her hair.
“Hey, it’s alright.” He took her limp hand in his.
“No, it’s not. I’m so sorry I was mean to you yesterday after you were so nice to us. I’m a terrible person. I deserve to die.”
“You’re not dying, and I forgive you.” And he had. He’d overstepped his boundaries. She had every right to set him straight, even though he still believed he was correct in his assessment. But it still wasn’t his place to point out that bit of truth.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry I crossed the line.”
She dismissed his statement with the flick of her wrist. “What’s today?”
“Monday.” Where was May? Hailey seemed to be getting less and less lucid, and her skin was on fire. He needed to get her to the clinic.
“Oh.” Her head rolled to the side. With a gasp, she jerked it back to him with wild, panicked eyes. “Monday? Where’s Lottie?”
He stroked her hair. “It’s okay. Lottie’s getting ready for school. May’s coming to take care of her, while I take you to the minor emergency clinic.”
That seemed to sober her a bit, though she was still out of her mind with fever. “I can’t go to the clinic. I have to work.”
“Not today. You’re off on Mondays, remember?”
“I do stuff on Mondays. I clean the house.” Her eyes drifted closed. “I have the PTO dance.” She slurred her words like she’d been on a three-day bender. “And I wash my privates on Monday.”
“Beg your pardon?”
She tried to push herself up in the bed, but her arms wouldn’t hold her. “I wash my privates by hand every Monday. If I don’t, then it won’t get done because I don’t have anyone to help me.”
He bit the inside of his lip. What in the hell was she talking about? “I’m sure May or myself can help—”
“You can’t touch my privates.” Her eyes were closed again, but a sly smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Well you can, I dreamed you touched my privates last night. It was nice…”
What. The. Hell?
“Wait.” Her lids flew up. “No, not privates. What’s the word?” The question came out on a huff of air.
He chuckled. “I don’t know, honey, but let’s get you to the doctor. I’ll help you get dressed.”
She slapped at his hand when he tried to straighten her sleep top. “There’s another word. Why can’t I think of the word? What’s wrong with me?” She was crying again. Big sobbing, hiccupping cries. “What’s the word, Beau?”
“Um…” What word was it she wanted him to say? He had no idea, but he’d do anything to make her stop crying. “Vagina, vajayjay, beaver, pu—”
“No! I mean for those.” She flung her hand in the direction of a pile of underwear and bras.
“Oh. Panties, underwear, drawers?”
“Delicates.” She let out a relieved sigh. “My private delicates. I have to wash them.” Her head lolled to one side, and she fell back to sleep.
She was sick as a dog, and talking out of her head. It was concerning, and yet he couldn’t get past the fact that she’d had a dream he’d touched her privates.
“Beau?” May came rushing into the room. “What in tarnation is going on?”
“Probably the flu. She’s burning up with fever. Can you get Lottie to school?”
“Of course. What are you going to do?”
“I’m taking her to the minor emergency clinic.” He retrieved Hailey’s robe and slippers from the floor, then put them on her, which was no easy task since she was dead weight. But he knew the drill. He’d dressed Clyde plenty of times when the man had been as ornery as a bull but as weak as a kitten. Once clothed, he scooped her in his arms and headed out of the room.
May took Lottie by the hand, and they stepped out of Beau’s way. “Call when you know something.”
“I will.”
Lottie whimpered at May’s side.
He dipped his chin toward Hailey’s daughter. “You’ll take care of her?”
“Always.” May moved to the back door. “Let me get that for you.”
“Thanks.” He carried his sick landlady down the steps to his truck.
Hailey’s eyes fluttered open. “Beau?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to get you well.”
“Oh, good.” She snuggled her head against his chest. “Beau?”
“Yeah?”
“I wish this was a good idea.”
“Me too, darlin’. Me too.”
The flu sucked. She hadn’t been able to go to work for four days. Thankfully she was able to take the flu medicine and had stopped running any fever the night before last, but she still had a cough. She was weak as a newborn colt, but she’d been doing what work she could from home. Thank God Newt was trying to buy a new motorcycle and welcomed the extra shifts.
She sat at the kitchen table with the back door open and listened to Beau and Lot
tie practice guitar. The fresh air felt good on her face and in her lungs.
“Slide your fingers from one chord to the other, Lil’ Bit.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, just like that. You’re gettin’ awful good at this.”
Hailey smiled. She couldn’t see them from where she was sitting in the kitchen, but she knew they faced each other and that Lottie probably had her tongue caught between her teeth. Beau was right, Lottie was getting good. It was like she was born to play the instrument.
“Will you play one of your songs?” Lottie asked.
“Only if you promise to practice all your chords and not just the easy ones.” Beau chuckled.
“Promise.”
The sound of the song flowed around Hailey. The bar order she was going over required all her concentration, but the words of Beau’s song flowed freely from her lips. She was singing along and crunching numbers when she noticed that the music was closer than it was before. She looked up and saw Beau with the strangest look on his face.
“What is it? You’re not getting sick too, are you?” That would be the worst thing to happen after he’d been so kind to her. “I’ll feel just horrible if I got you sick.”
“Sing it again.”
He was on the other side of the screen door, which was distorting his features some, so she couldn’t read his expression. “What?”
“Sing. It. Again.”
“Sing what again?”
He started playing the same song as before. “Sing.”
“No.” Oh crap, she must’ve been singing louder than she thought she was. She started coughing. “See, I can’t sing.”
He never looked away from her. “Lottie, will you put my guitar in the case for me, then throw the ball for Walter? He’s been too lazy today.”
“Sure.”
The screech of the screen door was the only sound besides the hammering of her heart.
He pulled out a chair and positioned it right in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that?”
She tried to push her chair away, but the wall behind her prevented that from happening. “I can’t sing. I told you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Why are you making such a big deal about this?” He just stared at her. “Okay, I can sing a little, but I don’t ever sing anywhere but here and in the car. So, for all practical purposes I don’t sing.”
One of his long arms went behind her chair and the other rested on the table. “I’m making a big deal because you have a fuckin’ amazing voice that you don’t share with anyone.”
Her head went back and she couldn’t control the face she made. “Share it with anyone. Who would I share it with? And for that matter, why do I have to share it with anybody?”
“Hailey, you have an instrument.” His green eyes bored into her like he saw that singing was one of her greatest pleasures in life. “It’s a crime not to use it. You should be singing every chance you get.”
“Oookay.” She finally wiggled her chair out far enough away from him to escape his overpowering presence. “Clearly you’re overexaggerating. I sing for fun and for myself.” She shrugged. “No big deal.”
“Are you hiding this like you hide what a badass you are? Like you’re afraid if people know how amazing you are, then they’ll not like you because they’ll feel bad about themselves?”
That hit its mark, but she’d never tell him that. “No, that’s ridiculous.”
“Did you know Lottie does the same thing?”
That stopped whatever denial she was about to lob in his direction. “What did you say?”
“I said, Lottie’s doing the same thing.” She must’ve looked as confused as she felt. “She didn’t tell you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Tell me what?”
“Her music teacher knows she’s been taking lessons with me and asked her to bring her guitar to school, so she could show the class what she’d learned. The teacher did this in front of the class. She told the teacher no because she doesn’t play very well and she’d be embarrassed.”
“But she plays better than most adults, and she’s only been doing it a few weeks. Why would she say that?”
“Why do you think she did it? The same reason you let people in this town walk all over you. She wants them to like her.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What, that you don’t stand up for yourself and show people how unbelievably competent you are, or that you’re teaching your daughter to do the same thing?”
She had to sit down. The room was starting to spin. It was the flu, and not the truth bomb that he’d just exploded in her kitchen. “You should go.”
He sat nodding his head for several moments like he wanted to say something else. “You’re right. I should.” The screen door slamming behind him was the exclamation point on all that he’d said.
Stupid country music star, thinking he knew everything. She and Lottie were survivors, and sometimes you had to do things you didn’t like to survive.
It sounded good, but it was a bald-faced lie.
Chapter Twenty
Beau’s pulse popped and jumped. The pounding behind his ribs kept time with the music coming through the speakers at Boon’s, and endorphins rocketed through his veins with every beat. If he could bottle the sensations he had before every performance, he could make a million dollars.
Nothing compared, except maybe sex—really, really incredible sex.
The jangle of excitement and anticipation had his fingers tapping out a beat on the table where he sat with Jack, Luanne, Gavin, Scarlett, Hank, and Charlie.
“Are you nervous, Beau?” Hank asked.
“No, why?”
Hank gestured toward Beau’s hands with his beer.
Beau glanced down and chuckled. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I’m just fired up.”
“You should be. This place is packed.” Jack slapped his back. “And you’re the reason.”
“Thanks, man.”
“How’s the new band, Beau?” Charlie asked from across the table.
He couldn’t help the grin that tugged on his lips. “Really good.” He and the band were jelling, and Tabitha was working out better than he’d expected.
“I’m so glad.” Charlie slid her arm along the back of Hank’s chair. “We’re looking forward to hearing you tonight.”
“Thank you, Charlie.” He glanced around the table at his new friends. Everyone was there…everyone but Hailey.
The undertone of restlessness trying to kill his pre-performance buzz was because he and the bar owner hadn’t spoken in three days, not since their confrontation in her kitchen. He missed hanging out with her. Her reasons for hiding from people outside her tight circle were her business, and even though he’d spoken the truth, he hated that he’d aggravated that wound. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. It killed him, though, that she didn’t let people see how amazing she was.
“I’ve never seen so many people packed in here.” Charlie gave an exaggerated flip of her hair. “I mean, I drew a crowd, but nothing like this. Then again, I’m a has-been, and you’re The Heartbreaker. Hailey must be beside herself.”
“I must be beside myself about what?” Hailey stepped over the rope that separated the makeshift VIP section from the rest of the bar.
Charlie took Hailey’s hand. “That The Heartbreaker draws such a huge crowd.”
Hailey laughed. “He does indeed.” Her whiskey gaze changed from joyful to apprehensive when she turned to him. “Thank you, Beau. I do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, but don’t forget, you did blackmail me with a place to live.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.” She laughed along with everyone else.
The edginess in his body bled away at the sound of her laughter, and his happy buzz morphed into a full-on high.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you in action, Beau,” Gavin’s wife Scarlett said. The redhead appeared r
ight at home in the rock star’s lap, though she could’ve easily been someone’s Sunday school teacher.
Gavin placed his hand on her cheek and turned her to face him. Their mouths were only a millimeter apart. “Woman, I’m the only action you get to see.”
Her fingers tangled in Gavin’s hair. “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” He closed the small space between them. The kiss wasn’t sweet or polite, it sparked a fire and scorched the air around them.
“Get a room,” the other two couples yelled.
With his lips still plastered to his wife’s, Gavin raised his middle finger to the rest of the table.
Beau’s gaze drifted to Hailey and caught her watching him. He expected her to turn away and pretend she hadn’t been staring. But she only shrugged and smiled. The shamelessness of it sent a white-hot shot of electricity down his spine and straight to his lap.
Charlie and Hank got her attention, and she turned away from him. Thank goodness, or he might’ve done something embarrassing.
What was it about her?
The answer hit him square in the face.
Hailey Odom had gotten under his skin, and he liked it…a lot. And it wasn’t just desire. If that were it, then he wouldn’t feel so off-balance. He knew how to handle a mutually beneficial, lust-fueled, friends with benefits arrangement.
This was something more—a whole hell of a lot more. His emotions were involved. His brain protested that it was too soon. But his heart reminded him he’d known her for months. She’d just been off limits. Now that she wasn’t, the troublemaking organ was demanding to get in the game.
But there were things to discuss. She’d made herself pretty clear about only wanting a platonic relationship. And after the other day, he didn’t know if she still wanted to be friends, let alone anything else. It would be a lot easier if she gave him a definite sign. But she was the queen of mixed signals.
Running After a Heartbreaker (Brides on the Run #4) Page 15
