Page 7 of Sexting the Tattooed Outlaw
She’s putting on this act, like she’s doing just fine. I know her better than that. Running a small business and taking care of her father must consume so much of her time. She’s exhausted and it shows in the way her eyes have this shadow, this veil. Like she’s here but she’s notallhere. Like she’s in bad need of a day off, pampering and naps and hot cocoa in a comfortable chair where she reads a book all day long.
The god damn irony of her creating a space like Fiction & Foam – a cozy little coffeeshop brimming with books and marshmallow foam and espresso – but never getting to actually enjoy all of the comfort she’s created for others…
Well, it’s just like her, isn’t it? She hasn’t changed a bit. Still the sweet, self-sacrificial girl she once was. Never asking for much, always worried about beingtoo muchfor other people.
Meanwhile there will never be such a thing as “too much” Kay Beaumont for me. I can’t get enough of her, never could.
This is going to be a fucking problem. How the hell am I supposed to make things right with Kay and her family, while keeping my damn hands off of her?
She hates me and she damn well should.
So while I’d love to pin her against the mattress again and do unspeakable things to that delicious curvy body, I know she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t wantme.
She’s the biggest chance in life that I ever got, and I fucked it all up to hell.
“Maybe some bridges can’t be rebuilt.”
I try to tell myself I don’t need her to fall in love with me, I just need to do a good deed for her before I leave town.
That’s my plan. Doing good deeds for everyone, evening the score so that I can finally ease the guilty conscience that’s haunted me for years like a thundercloud lurking overhead.
When I get inside the house, the elder Beaumonts are sitting at the table having dinner with a couple of their employees. They operate their businesses like a family, and it seems like there’s always a few long term employees around the house. Right now it’s a couple of ranch hands. There’s Adam Beaumont and his wife Ella at the end of the table, eating the meal their cook prepared for tonight.
Before Kay came home, her parents filled me in on Adam’s condition.
It’s a progressive disease. It’s never cured, only treated. They’re doing as much as they can to put off the inevitable. Trial medications, special supplements, and a strict diet.
I didn’t know until I got here. Until today, I had a very different image of Adam Beaumont in my head. The one from ten years ago, a man who stood proud and tall, capable and strong.
Seeing him like this only makes me regret being gone even more. I should’ve been here. I should have been here to help. Kay shouldn’t have been doing this on her own.
“Sam, join us!” Ella invites me from the table.
“Don’t do it, Sam,” Adam grunts. “It’s a trap. This ain’t rice. It’s some kind of soggy styrofoam.”
“It is not,” Ella says. “It’s quinoa.”
“Kee-what?”
“Quinoa.”
“You’re makin’ that word up.”
Ella shakes her head in exasperation.
“It’s good for you,” she says. “Better for you than rice.”
“I beg to differ,” Adam mumbles.
Ella sighs and I smile a little.
Adam looks up from his dinner, a knowing look in his eyes.
“Kay went downtown with some friends,” he says, even though I didn’t ask. “If you’d rather hang out with some people your own age instead of a couple of old geysers."
“Speak for yourself,geyser,” Ella scoffs. “I could have gone two-stepping with her if I wanted to! In my stilettos and all!”
“Where’d she go?” I ask curiously.
