I shake my head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” he asks. “You already stayed with me last night. So, you know I’m not some pervy-creeper who’s gonna pressure you into sex.”
I bite my lip. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I want him to sleep with me.
No. No, I don’t. I’m not ready for anything complicated.
“Please. I’d like to see you again. After today that is,” he says.
I sigh and look down at my hands. Beau has to want something from me. Why else would he be trying so hard? The question is, what do I want from him?
Friendship?
Sex?
A relationship?
Friends with benefits?
Maybe I’m overthinking things.
Beau’s honeycomb eyes look my way, begging me to say yes. Taking my time to answer, I watch his muscular chest rise and fall under his white shirt. Each breath becomes quicker and shallower the longer I wait.
“I’ll think about it.”
Our eyes meet, and there’s a hint of competitive challenge in his before I look away. Beau lets go of my hand, his fingers finding loose strands of my hair that has fallen from my ponytail. He tucks them behind my ears. I turn my head to the window hoping to hide the heat in my cheeks.
Chapter 13
Mallory
Beau makes a right turn, somehow finding a dirt road that seems to come out of nowhere. The trail is winding and bumpy, throwing me closer to him with each pothole.
Where are we going?
Wild backcountry sex maybe?
Nope. No sex. I’m not allowed to want him like that…
Beau turns again, following a barbed wire fence until it ends at a pin pad adjacent to a metal gate. He rolls down his window and punches in a four digit code and the gate swings open at a snail slow pace. Once the space between the gate and the post is wide enough, he drives on through.
The driveway turns into a dirt road before leading us to a grey double-wide with a screened-in porch on a large lot surrounded by cows. Beau puts the truck in park beside the double-wide, near a shed.
“Wait here for a minute.” Beau gets out but leaves the truck running for me.
I watch him in the side-view mirror as he walks up to the front door. I bite my lip, realizing I like looking at him more than I care to admit. Between the grease-stained wranglers he’s wearing now and the towel he had on this morning, I don’t have to imagine much.
I’ve only spent a few hours with Beau, but I’m drawn to him. It doesn’t feel like a rebound thing, but I have to maintain self-control. I can’t give in. We will be just friends.
A few seconds after getting to the door, he’s inside and I’m left alone with my thoughts.
Whose house are we at?
Why is he so respectful?
I gasp. Oh. My. Goodness. I bet he’s a player!
Is this his game, woo me then screw me?
How many girls has he been with? I bet he’s screwed every girl within a five mile radius. He did say that bull rider line had never failed him before.
The last thought makes me cringe. I pull my phone from between my legs. Opening the Facebook app, I type in his name—Beau Cooper.
Next to his name is picture of a man, probably him, riding a bull. The man in the picture is wearing the same black cowboy hat Beau had on the night we met at the church. Yellow chaps cover most of his blue jeans, and he has on some sort of vest, hanging on for dear life with one hand raised above his head.
Okay, I guess Beau really was a bull rider. Searching through the rest of the pictures, there seems to be a common theme. In almost everyone, Beau’s got a drink in his hand. Picture after picture, they’re all the same. All but one.
One picture makes my stomach churn. Beau’s got his arm around some pretty blond in a bright pink bikini. It’s the only picture he’s got with another woman and he’s looking at her like she’s God’s gift to earth. They, as a couple, look so happy it’s physically making me sick.
Crap. I’m jealous. I nibble on my lip. Maybe I do want to be more than friends. I swipe to the next picture and pray that girl isn’t in this one too. She’s not.
In this one, Beau’s sitting shirtless on a green airboat. I don’t know if it’s water or sweat, but his chest is glistening. Those rock hard abs of his are on full display, the deep lines of his hips begging to be held. If women have love handles, these are lust handles. My body tingles just looking at him.
Whhaaappp.
Kevin’s hand slaps against the window. I jump and drop my phone but quickly bend down to grab it before I get caught Facebook creeping. Kevin walks away, laughing like a hyena at my expense.
Beau opens my door. He smiles at me, his dimples deepening, mocking my almost heart attack. He reaches across me and takes his key out of the ignition.
“Come on out, babe.”
Babe? Did he just call me babe?
Chapter 14
Beau
Mallory looks around, her eyes slowly taking in the scenery. “What are we doing ?”
I bite back a grin, knowing what she sees—a herd of cows, too many acres of grass to count, and a sun-faded double-wide. She probably thinks we’re white-trash.
I put my arm around Mallory’s shoulder and link her fingers with mine. I ignore her question, waiting until we get to the field of grass behind Kevin’s shed to answer.
“So, around here,” I say, “when shit’s eating at you, we blow things up.”
Mallory’s mouth falls open. With a chuckle, I put my finger under her chin and push it closed.
A few hundred yards in front of us, Kevin’s set up a half-dozen half-filled water bottles. He walks back towards us, my black 308 rifle on his back and his 12-gauge shotgun in hand.
“We’re out of things to blow up…safely.” I say, pointing at Kevin. “So, the next best thing is to shoot something.”
Kevin hands me the shotgun first. I raise it to my shoulder and take aim. I’m ready to shoot but hold off to look over at Mallory. She bites her lip, her eyes giving me a once over that she probably doesn’t think I see.
“Might want to cover your ears,” I say, “It’s pretty loud,”
Mallory’s delicate hands reach over her ears and I aim again.
BANG
My shoulder hitches from the kick. I rechamber and shoot two more times, hitting each target until the gun clicks, signaling that I’m out of shells. Taking a few steps back, I rest the gun against the shed.
Mallory chews on her bottom lip. She looks like she’s ready to eat me and I’m strangely turned on by it. I wave her over and she practically runs to be by my side. We walk up to the targets and replace my leaking water bottles with new ones that are waiting under the table.
“Dang,” Mallory says, her head nodding in approval. “Not bad.”
I know I’m a good shot, but it’s nice to hear her praise. I swell with pride and stand tall. “Thanks.”
Back at the safety of the shed, Kevin picks up the rifle and shoots at his targets. Mallory watches him take aim and fascination dances across her face.
The gun goes off and Mallory flinches. I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her close. Mallory rests her cheeks against my shoulder while her fingers play at the hem of my shirt.
Mallory lifts her head to look up at me. Without a word, she rises up onto her toes and presses her lips against mine, both her arms wrapping around my neck. I pull her closer, my body burning out of control.
Kevin clears his throat. Mallory’s lips leave mine cold and wanting more. Her gaze falls to the ground before looking over her shoulder at Kevin.
Mallory
Beau doesn’t seem too interested in shooting anymore, not since I kissed him. Kevin’s shot two rounds to his one. Kevin finishes resetting the targets for another round, then hands Beau the rifle. My heart skips, excited to watch him shoot again.
Beau turns to me, excitement in his eyes, and says, “Your turn.”
Panic swee
ps through me. He and Kevin shoot so well, as if they practice every day, hitting almost every target they aim for. I, on the other hand, have never shot a Nerf gun, let alone a rifle. As intriguing as shooting may be, I’d like to keep this halfway decent impression I’ve got going on.
I raise my hands in protest. “Oh, no. I don’t think so.”
Beau opens his mouth to argue but changes his mind. Without warning, he crouches down and takes me by the legs, flipping me over his shoulder. I scream, not expecting to be lifted off my feet.
My screams quickly turn to laughter as Beau carries me out into the field, fireman style. His grip loosens around my thighs as he sets me back on my feet. One hand slides up my thigh to my lower back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Beau remains still, devouring me with his eyes.
“Any day now!” Kevin shouts, breaking the trance we’re in.
Beau clears his throat and takes a step back. He walks to a black duffel bag resting on the ground and props the rifle on top of it. He lies down on his belly. Closing one eye, Beau looks through a small black cylinder on the top of the gun. Satisfied with what he sees, he turns his attention to me and pats the grass beside him.
On the outside, I feel like I’m walking over to him with confidence and grace. On the inside, my stomach is churning, my hearts is racing, and the little voice in my head is begging me not to get down onto my belly. I don’t listen.
“This rifle is a 308,” Beau says. His eyes flick to the gun and then back to me. “We call it that because .308 is the caliber of bullet it uses. It doesn’t have as much kick as a shotgun, but it can still leave a bruise if you’re not careful.”
“Great,” I mumble.
“I want you to shoot this lying down. The duffle bag will take most of the shock.” Beau looks over his shoulder at my backside and grins. “Also, I don’t want you falling on your ass. That bit there”—he points to the black cylindrical piece on top of the gun.—“you’re going to look through it. It’s called a scope. You need to line up the ‘T’ that you’ll see when you look through it with your target. That’s called the crosshairs. Once your target is in the center of the crosshairs, pull the trigger.”
“Got it.”
I suck in a deep breath and hold it, hoping my nerves will settle, then let it out. My body quivers as I close one eye and look through the scope.
Lining up one of the bottles in the crosshairs, I draw in a quick breath, holding it as I pull the trigger. The blast is loud. My ears are ringing and my shoulder is throbbing. Beau moves the gun from the duffle bag to lie beside him. I stick a finger in my ear and twist it. When I pull it out, the ringing is a million times better. I can actually hear again.
“Well,” Beau says, rubbing the nape of his neck, “that’s one way to do it.”
I roll up onto my knees. “What do you mean?”
“You’d have a better chance of not missing if you keep your eyes open,” he says through a chuckle.
I missed? The bottle was lined up. I should have hit it.
Beau stands then extends a hand to help me to my feet. My legs are shaky. I’m not sure if it’s from how Beau’s making me feel or from sitting on the grass.
“Want to shoot again?”
I shake my head.
Beau rubs at the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go check on the targets,” he says walking away from me.
“Uh…okay.”
Not sure what to do but knowing that I don’t belong in the middle of the field, I turn and walk back to the truck.
“You need to just get it over with,” Kevin says as I approach. He leans against the front of Beau’s truck, arms crossed in front of him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All right, be that way but you’re going to give into him eventually. I can see it already, even if you can’t.”
Kevin’s words make me nervous. Is my attraction to Beau that obvious?
“Whatever you think you’re seeing, you’re wrong. Beau and I are just friends.”
“Friends that kiss?”
I stare at him, expressionless.
“Whatever you say, Sunshine,” Kevin says, leaving to join Beau.
They each take a gun and shoot until they’ve run out of things to hit. Beau helps Kevin pick up the busted targets and take them to the trash can beside the house.
“Kevin,” Beau says, slapping him on the back, “it’s been real and it’s been fun, but it hasn’t been real fun.”
Kevin snickers and pulls Beau in for a hug. “See you later, brother.” Kevin tips his hat at me. “Mallory, until next time, darlin’.”
“Bye Kevin,” I say, with a wave.
***
I try not to think about how Beau knows where Shannon’s house is. I’m hoping it’s a “small town” thing and not an “I’ve slept with her” thing, but I can’t bring myself to ask him. His big black diesel takes up her whole driveway. Beau puts the truck in park and gets out first. Shuffling around the truck, he opens the door for me. He slides his hand into mine and walks me to the silver Jetta my aunt has loaned me.
“So,” Beau says, his voice husky and low, “you never answered me. Will you come back next weekend?”
“I…” My chest constricts, each breath becoming a struggle. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
Beaus’ jaw hardens. He pauses and stares off into the distance. Abruptly, Beau pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “Can I have your number? Please?”
I let out a breathy laugh, easing the tension in my chest a little. With trembling hands, I take the phone from him and type my number in under the name “the sexiest girl you’ve ever met.” It’s a bold move, but when I hand Beau his phone, a smile tugs at his lips.
“Yes, ma’am, you are.” Beau shoots me a text, and my phone dings in my back pocket. His finger brushes against my cheek, touching me delicately, like a rose petal he doesn’t want to bruise. I look up at him, my breath catching in my throat.
“I’m fighting the urge to kiss you right now,” Beau whispers into my hair. His lips press against my neck, lingering longer than necessary, sending a vibration through my core. He takes a step back, a cool breeze replacing where his body once was.
“I’ll see you soon, Mallory.” Beau says, backing towards his truck, a cocky smile on his lips.
I watch him climb into his truck and speed away, unable to chase the butterflies away.
What have I gotten myself into?
Chapter 15
Mallory
“Mallory,” my aunt calls from one of the many rooms as I enter her house. “How were things with Shannon?”
“Great,” I say, climbing the stairs to my room. “Glad I went.”
I close my bedroom door behind me before she can ask any more questions. Without bothering to flip on the lights, I fall onto my bed and close my eyes. Beau’s smiling face instantly comes into view. I reach my hand up and touch my neck, still able to feel where his lips brushed my skin.
My phone dings in my back pocket. The sound is almost foreign to my ears. Not one of my friends have bothered to check on me since I broke things off with Tristan. Looking at the screen, there’s two messages waiting for me.
Unknown number: Hey it’s Beau.
Unknown number: It’s Beau again. Did you make it back to your aunt’s house yet?
My phone dings again.
Unknown number: Just in case you were wondering, I made it home safe.
I let out a breathy laugh.
Me: Yes, I made it. Glad you’re safe too. XOXO
Clicking on the number, I type in his name. As I’m hitting the “save” button, my phone dings again. Heat radiates through my chest when I open the message.
Beau: So, about this weekend…
Me: What about it?
Beau: Why can’t we hang out again?
Me: There’s a fundraiser Thursday night I’m organizing.
Beau: That’s Thursday. Why can’t I see you Friday? Or even Satu
rday?
Me: I’ve got to get through this fundraiser. I can’t think about anything else until after that.
Beau: Alright beautiful. I’ll talk to you soon.
***
Monday passes with no call and no texts from Beau. My heart sinks into my stomach each time I check my phone and there’s nothing from him. I’m not sure why I expected him to message me; no one else does. Still, I can’t help feeling like a schoolgirl again, waiting for him to make a move. It’s exciting and frustrating all at once.
Finally, on Wednesday as I’m going over table settings with a volunteer, my phone dings. I jump at the vibration in my back pocket, knowing it’s not anyone related to the fundraiser. My heart’s pounding so violently it could bruise my rib cage.
Beau: About this fundraiser…
Me: What about it?
Beau: Can I come?
I smile. Those stupid butterflies I haven’t felt since I left on Sunday spring to life in my stomach.
He misses me.
Okay, maybe he doesn’t miss me. But he wants to see me enough to make a forty-five minute drive. I take a slow breath, failing at steadying my racing heart.
Me: I don’t know. It’s fancy. Dress pants, nice shirt, and tie.
Beau: I have all of that
Me: I…
Could I handle Beau being at the fundraiser? Or would he be a distraction? Beau probably looks amazing in a suit…
Me: I don’t think it’s a good idea.
Beau doesn’t respond. I put my phone in my pocket and get back to work. It’s probably for the best. I can’t be distracted right now. There’s food counts to finalize, raffle baskets to pick up, and thank-you notes to handwrite to the donors, all fifty of them.
Later that night, as I’m lying in bed looking over the spreadsheet on my aunt’s iPad, my phone dings. My stomach flutters as I reach over to the night stand for it.
Can't Let Go Page 5
