Page 36 of Except You

“True,” Beau replies and then rests his head on my shoulder.

“Any other questions before we go to bed?” Beau asks, and his mom taps her fingers against her lips.

“Oh, as soon as you told us about him, I made a list.”

She literally pulls one from her pocket, and Beau’s head pops up, his eyes wide. “Hell no, Mom. Seriously?” He looks at his dad and frowns. “You condone this?”

“Think I can stop her? She’s just like you.”

“It’s fine, Bow-tie,” I say softly, and Beau glowers at me as his mom claps her hands in delight.

“They even have pet names. Oh, what do you call him, Beau?”

“Never telling you, Mom. Never. I will take it to my grave.”

“He calls me Daddy.”

I say it with a straight face, and Beau’s mouth drops open in a gasp.

“You are going to get it.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” I say. “You really like it.”

“I am going to murder you in your sleep.”

I grin at him and those cherry red lips twitch. He loves this. I know he does.

“Fine, Daddy, if you want to risk it, be my guest.”

“Sure thing, Bow-tie.” I reach out and touch his face, and he leans into it just the slightest bit, but it makes my heart pound in my chest.

“Oh, honey, we should give them some time alone,” Keith says.

My hand falls from his face and we both turn to look at his parents.

“You don’t need to,” I say, but they’re already getting up and moving toward their room, whispering softly.

Beau smacks my arm playfully. “Okay, Daddy, take me to bed.”

I roll my eyes as I stand and pull him up, his body falling into mine. And then I reach down to his ass and haul him up in my arms. His legs wrap around my waist, and I stride down the hallway toward his room.

“Sounds good, Bow-tie.”

Chapter Six

Beau

Oh god. I have gone and done it. I don’t know what happened, but it did. Max is currently lying on my bed next to me after carrying me to my room. Those strong arms just plucked me off the ground like I weighed nothing.

His hands were on my butt.

My buttocks.

This straight guy is doing my head in, and I’m losing myself completely.

I need to remember who he is. He’s not really my boyfriend, not in the slightest, but he sure is acting like one.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling. He looks good in those gray sweatpants and that white shirt. He’s a wet dream. When I first saw him at the bar all those nights ago, I was totally shooting my shot.

---