Page 97 of Reckless
It’s when I feel an elbow against my side that I realize Harvey Eaton has moved in beside me. “Gonna tell you what I told Rhett a couple of years ago when Beau was putting moves on Summer right in front of him.”
I snort. “Brave.”
Harvey chuckles and takes a swig of his beer, watching them too. “Doesn’t much matter who she’s dancing with when her eyes are on you.”
“Yeah.” I scrub at my stubble, hoping to loosen some of the tension in my jaw.
“Plus, it’s not what it looks like. I told Beau to stop being a moody asshole and apologize to Winter. See how awkward they are? Was kinda getting a kick out of it myself, like two virginal teenagers at their first dance. Straight-arming each other’s shoulders. Not like you two feral cats on the procreation prowl.”
“Sorry, the procreation prowl?”
“I googled it after you lot made fun of my analogy. But I was right. You’re the tom and she’s the queen. Ya’ll were blowing shit up like Americans on the fourth of July and then going at it like it’s mating season.”
“This is truly the analogy that never ends.”
“I’m not wrong. Our southern neighbors love to celebrate their independence by blowing off their fingers with excessive fireworks. There are statistics.”
“On Google, I presume?”
He scoffs. “Yes.”
“You are a national treasure, Harvey Eaton.” I chuckle and take a sip of my drink, eyes still plastered to the dance floor. Now that he mentions it . . . there is a leaden quality to the way they’re moving. “What’d he do to her?”
Harvey shakes his head, his humor leeching away now. “Bah. Acted like a sullen dickhead when she tried to help him. I’m sure she wasn’t warm and fuzzy about it. But still. This is the new normal for Beau, unfortunately.”
It’s been a tough road for Beau. I don’t know him well, but I know he’s not the same. Not after he spent days on end hiding in enemy territory with a hostage he freed. A Canadian journalist who’d been missing forever. It was plastered all over the evening news. The hero who walked through fire and knowingly missed his transport out to save a fellow Canadian.
The only person who doesn’t seem impressed by Beau is, well, Beau.
Harvey clears his throat. “He’s getting better though. Ya know? Takes time to adjust to civilian life. Ah—” Harvey gestures at the dance floor with his beer. “There he goes. Still a good boy at heart.”
And sure enough, between the two songs, he steps away from Winter, drops his eyes, and his lips move. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but Winter nods, looking more like the medical professional she is than the woman who keeps making fun of my middle name.
They shake hands and part ways. Winter turns and saunters toward me, that pink silk slipping against the outer curve of her hips. Beau crosses to the opposite side of the dance floor and leans against the bar where a pretty brunette is slinging drinks. She barely glances his way, but hands him a soda before he even says a word.
“And would you look at that. The queen coming back to her tom. Must be mating season.” Harvey cackles to himself as he moves into the crowd, presumably to make jokes that toe the line of appropriate to someone else.
I’m grinning like a fool when Winter finally gets to me.
“Hi.” She smiles back, instantly flushed again.
“Hi. Drink?” I tip my head toward the bar.
“Sure. Champagne.”
Winter takes a spot beside me while I turn and order her a champagne. With her drink in hand, we both stand and stare out at the crowd. The sun is dropping outside, but inside it feels like things are just turning up. The reception is being held in another outbuilding on the same farm, this one set up for events with a large dance floor, family-style tables down one side, two bars, and a DJ booth. Basically, everything you might need on one property to host a country wedding.
“What were you and Harvey talking about?” I glance down at Winter, lips on the rim of the glass as she tips the champagne into her mouth. Pink lipstick kisses the edge when her mouth comes away.
“The procreation prowl.”
Her brows knit together. “The what?”
“You don’t want to know. What were you and Beau talking about?”
Her nose wrinkles slightly, and I can tell she’s weighing her words. “Basically, he cornered me at a family dinner a while back, asking me to write him a script. I said no. He blew up, and I told him to watch his tone. Now he treats me like I’m the Grinch who stole his sleeping pills. I guess after several months of cooling down, he decided to apologize. Though I’m pretty sure his dad told him t—”
“I think it might be a good time to get this girl home.” My mom walks up, pushing a stroller with a passed out Vivi. “She’s partied hard for a ten-month-old. I told Winter I’d go on grandma duty so you guys could stay out. I’ll just watchGrey’sreruns at your house until you’re back.”
