Page 59 of Beau & Autumn

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to enjoy torturing me about this for the rest of my life? When we’re old and gray you’ll be like, ‘remember that time when we—’ Wait, not that I meant we’d be old and gray together… Just like, we’ll laugh about this one day…”

He laughs again. “You worry way too much.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “See ya later, Wifey.”

I purse my lips and give him narrow warning eyes. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention. Meanwhile, my body nearly caves when his fingers brush the side of my cheek. “Try not to get into too much trouble until I see you later.” I smile pleasantly. “You are younger than me, and a little wet behind the ears.”

“Oh, really? You wanna play like that?”

I start to walk backwards. “I am technically the older party.”

“Hey, wait. Where you’re walking to, you have no car, remember?”

My smile falters. “Shit.”

He laughs. “Jump in my truck, I’ll drive you home.”

My feet waste no time in walking back toward him. “Spoken like a true husband.”

??

I’ve been a nervous wreck all evening going over and over everything in my mind. This isn't like me. Before Beau and Carrie’s ridiculous idea, I lived my life in a little bubble. That bubble has now burst and there are no rainbows in sight. If I didn’t like Beau so much, I’d curse the ground he walks on. I know he’s trying to help me, and for that I’m grateful. But this whole thing has me really pent up with a combination of excitement and nervousness.

Plus, him acting so sexy at the cafe wasn’t helping. His hand on the small of my back isn’t a huge deal, but the way he was making sure everyone in the cafe knew I was his without words, sends fire through my veins. My core has been throbbing and I even contemplated having a little fun with my bullet before he came over. But knowing me I wouldn’t hear him knocking, and then Beau would barge his way in and catch me in the act. Heat floods my cheeks. I’m thirty-three years old! I need to get a grip.

A little later, when the pizza guy’s been and gone, I hear Beau’s truck pull up.

My car is out of action until tomorrow, so I’ll have to go collect it from Stoney Autos.

I’ve been sitting on the floor on a cushion, my back against the couch as I made a list of all the pros and cons to why this hair-brained idea has its flaws, or could work out for the two of us. The idea of just doing this for money still rattles around unsteadily inside me. I don’t do things that cause me to lie, so I’m having a hard time with all of that. I don’t like being dishonest to anyone, especially my family, as much as I think their rules are outdated and ridiculous. And try as I may to talk to them and my grandma about it over the years, they’ve always told me that family tradition cannot be broken, and that if I had any sense of solidarity, I’d understand my mom and Grandmother’s wishes. They only want to see me happy, after all. And rich and successful with a house full of children; of course they didn’t exactly speak those last words, they didn’t have to.

I know in my family, a woman’s place is in the home raising children and cooking her husband dinner; or in my mom’s case, she has a cook do it. I’ve nothing against women who want that way of life. Hell, I like the idea of taking care of my future husband, but not at the expense of my hopes and dreams. Shouldn’t those things all work in tandem so there’s an equal balance?

Wait. My future husband? Holy shit… That’s Beau.

Beau Bassett is going to be my husband and I’m about to lie to my family and friends just to get what I want. I don’t know if I can go through with this.

A rat-a-tat on the door knocks me out of my reverie. I smooth my hands down my YALE sweatshirt. I’m not fancy when I’m at home, despite what people think. And sweats are my comfy go-to, like most people.

I suck in a breath.

It’s just Beau, you can do this!

When I slide my hand on the doorknob and twist open the front door, he’s standing there in jeans and a Star Wars hoodie, his hair still wet from a recent shower. And there’s that scent again. What did he say it was again? Sauvage? Jesus, it should be illegal. Beau Bassett should be illegal.

I realize I’m gaping at the same time he says, “Are you okay?”

I smile. “Yes. Sorry, I’ve had a million things going on. Come in.”

He steps in, running a hand through his dark hair and I do not check out his ass. The same way I absolutely do not check out how filled out his shoulders are and how I’ve never really noticed he’s quite brawny. And I refuse to give in to the wayward smile he gives me when he turns and catches me checking him out.

If I’m going to get through tonight, I think I need a shot of something strong. Then again, the last time I did that, I wound up agreeing to marry my best friend!

No alcohol.

We have to do this completely sober.

We can’t have any outside factors influencing our decision making, aside from the fact we’re both completely nuts. That part I’m fully aware of.

17

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