Page 74 of On the Run
I passed Littlejohn my clipboard and asked him to hold down the fort and keep everyone out of the guesthouse so I could change quickly… and then I nearly bumped into the guy I’d been avoiding, who was heading into the guesthouse at the same time.
“Oh. Uh. After you,” Beale said, and though I would not admit it aloud even under the rudest torture, those few, rough, fumbling syllables felt like raindrops on parched skin.
“Oh, no, you go.” I smiled tightly. “I can wait. If you’re gonna shower, I mean. I’ll… wait here.”
“I should, probably. Yeah. Good call.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll just… do that?”
“Sure.”
God, this awkwardness was terrible.
I’d slept in this man’s arms last night. I’d kissed him goodbye this morning with a smile and a “call me if you need anything,” and I’d let myself start to think thoughts about how I could maybe… have this. Havehim. For my own.
Stupid, stupid. I was nobody’s endgame. Nobody’s motherfucking soul mate.
I was desperate to know what had changed, but I was fucking terrified to know what had changed.
I wanted him to keep talking and also to just go away before he shredded my self-control.
But apparently I enjoyed the pain more than my sanity, because I found myself saying, “But what do you think of the decorations, though? Be honest.”
“‘Be honest,’ huh?” Beale’s jaw worked like I’d asked him a totally different question. “That’s… wow.” He blew out a breath. “Honestly, I think the decorations are great,Trey. I think Mason will love them. I think no one could have pulled this off like you did. But then, I’ve thought you were pretty extraordinary from the first moment we met.”
I stared at him in surprise. He’d spoken those pretty words like a challenge. Like the opening salvo in some war. Like he was pissed that I was extraordinary, and more pissed that he had to acknowledge it. I had no idea how to respond to that. It was one thing for him to be “it’s been fun but it’s over” distant, but another thing entirely for him to be angry.
What the hell was that about?
“Well. How kind of you to say,” I managed to reply. “I—”
“It’s really not. I—ah,fuck it.” Beale grabbed my face in his two big paws, speared his fingers in my hair, and kissed me until my ears rang. He tasted like green tea and bright anger, and as he kissed me, that anger leached into me, too.
How dare he be mad at me! How dare he kiss me like this whenhewas the one pulling away?
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself up so I could put my legs around his waist. Beale caught me with both hands under my ass in the way I guess I’d instinctively known he would—even if he was mad at me, even if he was acting distant—and I groaned, reveling in the feeling.
Someone nearby whooped and someone else laughed, and I barely heard it because Beale was kissing me with passion and a kind of aggression I’d never experienced with him before.
He carried me into the guesthouse, where the air-conditioning was cool on my overheated skin, and broke apart just long enough to say, “Keep everyone out, LJ,” and for Littlejohn to say, “Already told Trey I would.”
Then Beale slammed the door behind us… and we were alone.
14
Beale
Czarina’s StarCharts for Today:
Virgo,your greatest gifts are your listening ear and your loyal heart. But are you listening to the truth or to your own fears?
* * *
What the fuckwas I doing?
I’d driven here, absolutely ready to confront Toby and demand answers, forgetting that the place would be littered with volunteers. So I’d tried avoiding him, except that hadn’t worked either, so now all of a sudden I was kissing him like he was oxygen and I was a fire.
His weight in my arms and the smooth, solid heat of him against my chest felt so right it was hard to stop, but I had to. I was angry, when I hardly ever got angry. I couldn’t imagine having sex with someone in this state. It probably wasn’t healthy… right?
I pulled him off my body, which was a little like pulling a remora off a shark, and set him on the tiled floor in the living room, where the two of us stared at each other, panting.
