Beau: What r u wearing?
Mallory: Lol, well hello to you too.
Beau: I’m wearing….
loading
I gasp as the picture comes into focus. Beau’s lying shirtless on his bed. One arm’s outstretched, holding the phone while the other is curled behind his head. A happy trail of hair stretches from beneath his boxers, up past his belly button, stopping in the center of his abdomen between both lust handles. The hardlines and dips of his impossibly perfect torso are on full display.
Beau: Like?
Yes!
Me: Maybe
Beau: So, what are you wearing?
Uh…how do I respond to that? Wait…is he flirting? He is isn’t he. Okay, I can do this. I can be fun, playful, flirty Mallory.
Me: Oh, a little of this, a little of that
Beau: Pic??
My stomach jumps. I’ve never sent a naughty picture before. Looking down at my pink unicorn pajama shorts and baggy shirt, I bite my lip. I’m not wearing anything worth sharing.
A scandalous idea pops in my head. Going to my dresser, I grab a pair of panties. I can’t bring myself to actually send something dirty, but he doesn’t need to know that. Crawling back in bed, I kick my unicorn pants off slide the lacy, black thong up my legs, just over my knees, then take the picture. It’s deceptively angled to look like I’ve taken off my panties for him. My thumb hovers over the send button, unsure if this is a good idea. The phone slips out of my hand. Fumbling to grab it before it hits the floor, my fingers brush over the screen. Circumstance, or perhaps fate, sends the picture for me.
Beau: Woman! What are you trying to do to me??
Me: Only what I want you to do to me.
Oh. My. God.
Did I just say that?
Does that even make sense?
I drop the phone in my lap and throw my face into my hands. This isn’t me. This has never been me, but I want to be different. I want Beau to want me, even if I’m not sure what I want from him yet.
I pick the iPad up and try to focus on my spreadsheet, but the image of Beau’s bare chest won’t leave me alone. I roll onto my side and look at the time. Almost half an hour has passed since Beau’s last message. Maybe he fell asleep…
DING.
Beau: Did you think I forgot about you
Me: No
Yes.
Beau: Tell me something about you
Me: I’m a girl
Beau: I knew it!
Beau: Seriously though...
Me: I really am a girl
Beau: And you’re the prettiest one I’ve ever seen
My cheeks grow hot. Damn my body for betraying me and falling for his charm.
Beau: Tell me something no one knows
Me: Only if you tell me something first
Those three little dots seem to stay on my screen forever. Appearing and disappearing. Over and over again. I chew on my thumbnail, impatiently waiting for them to change into words.
Beau: When I was six my brother hit me in the head with a baseball bat. It was an accident but totally sucked. I had to get a bunch of stitches. He almost took off my ear. I have a wicked scar, but my hair hides it. That’s why I wear my hair kind of shaggy
Oh my God!
Me: That sucks I’m sorry
Me: And your hair is def not shaggy
Beau: Well most guys around here have their hair buzzed short. Mine is long compared to theirs
Beau: Your turn
Uh…
Me: I have an irrational fear of the color purple
Beau: Seriously?
Me: Yup
Me: Anything purple gives me the heebie-jeebies. I can’t explain it. I get goosebumps and chills and everything
Beau: That’s so weird
Beau: So, I should throw out my super soft purple comforter? lol
Me: Ha Ha
Beau: :D
My thumb hovers over the keyboard, unsure what to type next.
Me: Tomorrow’s the fundraiser
Beau: Yeah?
Me: So, I won’t be able to text. Like at all
Beau: Jeez. Is it a 24-hour thing?
Me: No, but setup starts at 7am. The fundraiser itself is from 5-10 and then there’s the cleanup.
Beau: It’s gonna be great. You’re gonna be great.
Me: Well aren’t you sweet.
My eyes are heavy. The last thing I hear before drifting off to sleep is the sound of my phone alerting me of another message. I peel my eyes open and hazily read the text.
Beau: It’s midnight
Beau: See you soon beautiful
Chapter 16
Beau
Turns out, there is only one fundraiser tonight in the tri-county area; a benefit for a local girl who’s been diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis. I was able to call this morning and purchase a ticket at the last minute—a two hundred dollar ticket. Mallory better feel loved.
Every space in the parking lot is taken. So, I park behind a red Mercedes-Benz on a side street. Flowers in hand, I follow a stream of people inside. After checking in at a table near the entrance, I’m given a card with my table assignment and allowed to enter.
The room is brightly lit with pastel pink accent lights, adding a calming ambiance. There are at least a dozen round tables scattered about, covered with white tablecloths. After locating table five and putting the flowers in my seat, I head to the bar.
In a room filled with people who have more money than God, I feel out of place. My dark slacks, white button-down shirt, and black tie look similar to those around me. However, like a shark sniffing out blood in the water, somehow these people know I don’t belong. People step out of my way, as if I have the plague, upon reaching the bar.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks, not bothering to look up from the drink he’s mixing.
“Jack and Coke, please.”
The bartender looks up at me, brows pressed together and recognition spreads across his face. “Cooper. How are you doing, man?”
“Uh, good. Do I know you?”
He shakes his head. “Probably not. I was a fan in the stands at the football games. Sucks you quit.”
I shrug. He hands me my drink and I walk back towards my table. Pressing the cup to my lips, I swallow it in one big gulp, welcoming the burn. This going to be a long night.
“Good evening. If everyone could please find their tables, we’d like to get started,” a cheery voice says through the speakers. I recognize it immediately.
Mallory stands at a podium on the stage. She smiles at the crowd. Her eyes flit across the room, bouncing from person to person until they stop on me. Her gaze falls to her papers, cheeks flushing red, before darting back up to me.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight. As you all know, eight-year old Laura was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis last summer. Cystic Fibrosis is a terrible disease that damages the lungs and digestive system. While scientists have had many breakthroughs, there is still no known cure, and the medications are costly. All proceeds from tonight’s auction will go towards Laura’s never-ending medical bills.” Mallory pauses, letting the crowd whisper amongst themselves before adding, “and now, I’m going to turn the stage over to Hank. Let the auction begin.”
The room erupts in applause as Mallory steps to the side of the stage. The auctioneer, Hank, begins rambling off words and numbers at an alarming speed while the runner delivers basket after basket to the highest bidders.
Two hours later, the auction is over, and everyone is allowed to mingle again. Mallory makes her way across the room, periodically to shake hands with patrons before finally making her way over to me.
“What are you doing here?” Mallory asks, her arms linking around my neck for a brief hug.
“I thought I’d surprise you.” Taking the bouquet of flowers from under my seat, I hand them to her. She bites her lip, surprise dancing in her eyes.
“You’re so sweet.” Mallory looks around. “I should get back to ma
king my rounds, but I’m glad you came.” She turns, heading back to her guests. Looking over her shoulder, she adds, “Don’t leave before saying goodbye. Okay?”
I nod, a goofy grin on my face.
***
“I’m exhausted,” Mallory says, sagging into the chair next to me. The fundraiser ended over an hour ago, but I stuck around to help with the cleanup. “You didn’t have to stay. Don’t get me wrong, your man-strength was amazing, but you have a forty-five minute drive home.”
I chuckle. I’ve never heard the phrase “man-strength” before.
“Every back-breaking minute was worth it since I got to spend more time with you,” I tease, nudging her arm with my elbow.
Mallory throws a dirty napkin at me.
“So, about tomorrow…”
“What about tomorrow?” she asks.
Reaching both arms above my head, I stretch, a yawn escaping me. “Now that the fundraiser is over, and everything is picked up, how about coming to spend the weekend with me.”
Mallory groans, her eyes rolling. “Are we back to this?”
“Yup.”
“You’re not going to give up, are you?”
“Nope.”
She sighs. “Fine.”
“Really?” I say, a little too enthusiastically.
“Really.” She giggles. She lays the palm of her hand against my cheek. “You’re cute when you’re excited.”
I shift in my seat, warmth spreading through my body. “It’s getting late. I should get going. Bring something nice to wear; I have big plans for us”
She raises her brow at me. “Oh yeah? What are we doing?
“It’s a surprise.”
Chapter 17
Mallory
Exhausted doesn’t come close to explaining how I feel this morning. It’s like I fell off a wagon, was run over by another, then had to run a mile home. I did not plan on being up before noon, but the sound of my phone dinging has ruined my plans to sleep in.
I drag myself over to the side of my bed. Who in their right mind is texting me at eight in the morning? This person is about to get my wrath.
A smile spreads across my face upon seeing who it is, all anger gone. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. Or perhaps it’s the rumble of hunger. I try to convince myself the feeling is because I’m hungry and not because of Beau.
Beau: Today’s the day!
Me: Lol I’m aware of that
Beau: What time will you be here?
Me: Um, not sure. I have to help with the last of clean up and take care of a few things before I can leave. So, Idk maybe 5 or 6
Beau: How much further from the fundraiser do you live?
Me: My aunt lives…
I start to text, but then change my mind and delete it. I’m not sure I’m ready to tell him. My Aunt is one of the wealthiest women in the tri-county area. If not for her being my mom’s sister and having a different last name, I don’t think I could have kept who she is a secret for so long. I have nothing against Beau, or his friends. I just don’t want them treating me differently. The anonymity has been nice.
Beau: ???
Me: My aunt has a lot of property. It’s kind of far out
It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth.
Beau: That’s cool.
Beau: I told you my Granddad has a ranch, it’s pretty far away too. We should go sometime.
Beau: Drive safe babe. Can’t wait to see you.
I’m not sure what to say. Thanks? You too sunshine? Can I call him sunshine? Is it too soon for a pet name? I type sunshine and babe over and over, deleting it only to type one or the other again just to delete it a few more times. Texting shouldn’t be this difficult. I’m sure those three little dots are driving him crazy. They drive me crazy.
Beau: See you soon beautiful
***
My stomach feels like it’s on a rollercoaster, lifting high into my throat as I get closer to his place, then dropping deep down into my seat as I pass it. I’ve circled the block twice already, trying to decide if staying with him again is a good idea. After two more drive-bys, I park my Jetta beside his truck. Unable to move, I pull at the hem of my shirt.
What am I doing here?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I look up. Beau’s at my window, his lips curling into a smile that reaches his eyes. I click the unlock button and Beau swings my door open.
Seriously, where did you come from?
“Are you gonna come in or gonna circle the block once more?” He holds his hand out to me.
I look down at my lap, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Busted.
I take Beau’s outstretched hand. He pulls me out of the car and into a big bear hug. His strong arms wrap around me, pressing me into his body. Closing my eyes, I breathe him in, his smell making me dizzy.
I crane my neck to look up at him. His big brown eyes stare down at me. He leans back and smiles. There’s a burning sensation of anticipation in my chest and I find myself blushing again.
I grab my overflowing backpack from the back seat but Beau immediately takes it from me, swinging it over his shoulder as if it’s an empty pillowcase.
He clears his throat and looks over at his house. “Come on.”
Inside the garage apartment, Beau shrugs. “I know you’ve been here before,” he holds his hand out, gesturing to the room, “but here it is.”
I smile, closing the door behind me.
“Uh…you can have the bedroom this weekend. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, guiding me to where his room is.
Beau opens his bedroom door and everything is the same as I remember, not that I expected anything about it to change. The king size bed is the focal point of the room, clad in the same deep blue comforter as last weekend. He sets my bag on the bed and walks over to a set of bi-fold doors.
“Uh.” His hand rubs the back of his neck again, it’s definitely a nervous habit.
Do I make him nervous?
“I thought you might like some space of your own while you’re here,” he says, pointing to the empty hangers and bare shelf in the closet.
My crimson cheeks betray the calm bravado I’m trying to portray. Giving me a space to call my own is a simple gesture, but the same gesture took my ex-fiancé, Tristan, two years to do. Beau, someone I barely know, is already twice the man my ex was.
Beau turns and walks away without waiting for my reaction. I follow him into the kitchen. Reaching for his arm, the muscles in his bicep tense. Ignoring my quickening heartbeat, I stand at full height.
“Thank you. You don’t even know how great this is.”
Beau gently threads his fingers through my hair. “It’s nothing.”
My lips tingle from anticipation. This is it. He’s going to kiss me again…but he doesn’t.
Beau retracts his hand. “I hope you brought something nice to wear.”
“I did.”
“Good, we are going to dinner. Then, if you’d like, I thought we’d hit up Cowboy’s tonight?”
“What’s that?”
“A bar on the outskirts of town. There’s usually a band on Friday night.”
“That sounds like fun.”
Beau’s finger brushes against my hand. Swallowing, I take a step back and he takes a step forward. When I step back again, I’m up against the bedroom door. He follows, stopping inches away, trapping me to the spot. My pulse beats wildly. Beau gently threads his fingers through my hair.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He kisses me, making me blush all over. His lips press against mine until I’m breathless with a flurry of butterflies in my chest.
Beau’s lips curve into a slow, sexy smile. “I should let you get ready.”
Chapter 18
Beau
Waiting on the couch while Mallory gets ready is a strange type of torture. Knowing that she’s naked in my room and I can’t touch her drives me crazy. And trying to distract myself with the nonsense on TV is pointless—Mallory’s naked
body is all I can think about.
When Mallory steps into the room, my breath stops short. A black dress hugs her chest down to her waist, then spills out over her hips, stopping near her knees. Those sun-kissed legs of hers look like they go on for days. She does a little spin and the hem of her skirt creeps dangerously high up her thighs.
Taking hold of Mallory’s elbow, I pull her down onto me. Her legs settle on each side of my hips straddling me. My hands wind her waist.
I lean forward. With my lips brushing against her ear I say, “You look absolutely stunning.”
Mallory’s shoulder and cheek pinch together. “Thanks.” She giggles.
As much as it pains me, we need to leave if we are going to make our reservation. I lean back against the cushion. “We should probably get going. It’s about an hour drive to dinner.”
Chapter 19
Beau
Mallory chuckles upon seeing the giant concrete bulldog statue in the parking lot . My insides melt at the sound. Every minute I’m with her seems to be adding cracks the playboy facade I’ve held for so long.
Mallory’s heels click rhythmically against the wooden floor as we approach the hostess’ station. Looking around, I’m surprised. The place is dead for seven o’clock on a Friday night.
The hostess seats us at a table near the back of the establishment a few minutes after we arrive. She gives us our menus and informs us our waitress will be along shortly.
My knee bounces under the table. I rest my hand on my leg, trying to steady it. Mallory chews on her bottom lip as she reads the menu.
“What do you want?” Mallory asks.
“Huh?”
Her pink lips curl at the corner. “What. Do. You. Want. Tonight?”
I bite back a smile. “You.”
“Well, that’s definitely not on the menu,” she says through a chuckle.
A waitress comes to take our drink orders, then brings us a basket of bread. Mallory looks around the room, taking in the rustic decor. Our date must seem awkward to outsiders because a different waitress approaches our table and clears her throat. She’s pretty in an untraditional way. Round face, dark skin, and emerald eyes, with an exotic look, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Mallory. Her eyes fixate on me.
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