Page 50 of Hopeless
Bailey:Captain?
Beau:Not that either.
Bailey:… Sir?
Beau:Watch it, Bailey.
Bailey:If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be taking a cab. Thank you for your help, sir.
Being engaged to Beau Eaton was supposed to be helpful. Except I’m pretty sure it’s my own special brand of torture.
I’ll start leaving the back door unlocked for when you decide you want to find out if I’m a prude or notis the one-liner that had me rushing back to my trailer to pull out my box of vibrators.
I didn’t even bother pretending one of them was Jensen Ackles.
Every single one is now Beau Eaton.
Despite my lack of sleep, I had to wake up early to clean the bar this morning. Beau drove me there in relative silence while I clutched my travel mug with both hands. I figured keeping my fingers latched on would prevent me from crawling across the center console and mauling a man who is only going along with this charade to be nice.
Or because he’s bored.
Or something.
I hitched a taxi back out to the ranch when I finished, and now I’m sprawled in a fold-out chair next to my trailer. An iced coffee in hand. A sun beam on my face.
I’m trying not to stress about my tires. Or my money. Or if making myself come while thinking about my fake fiancé was a bad idea.
I want to check out and just—
Tires grind against the gravel road leading to Beau’s house. I don’t bother opening my eyes, even when they hum onto the paved driveway on the other side of the house. Regardless of any external influences, I don’t budge, safe and protected by my trailer. The one thing I still have that’s mine.
I know Beau is gonna come here, guns blazing about me saving my money. I hear heavy footfalls, and my lips tip up as I imagine him towering over me like he did last night.
But the voice that interrupts my peaceful moment isn’t his. “You seen Beau?”
I startle and shoot straight up to see Cade Eaton, Beau’s oldest brother, with his hands on his hips, looking really bitchy.
“No,” I breathe, one hand slung over my chest because he surprised me and I’m trying to catch my breath.
Cade glances between the house and me. “Why are you sitting over here when there’s all that patio furniture up on the deck?”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “Lacks a certain charm, don’t you think?”
The man nods at that. “Gotta say, I’ll agree with you there. House looks like it belongs in the city.”
I stare at the house, all straight lines and modern shapes.
It suits Beau—or some version of him, maybe—but it doesn’t suit the setting. And I find myself wondering if Beau suits the setting.
“Anyway, he took off in the middle of the day,” Cade says. “Not a fuckin’ clue where he went. Not answering my calls or texts, as usual. So if you hear from him—”
I give Cade a salute. “I’ll let you know.”
Cade turns to leave but then swivels back, uncertainty painting his features. “You think he’s doing okay?”
I weigh the question, torn between being honest and protecting Beau’s privacy.
Okay?The sleep, the way he’s set off so easily, the alcohol intake. He’s not okay, but he’s aware of it, and it strikes me that might be half the battle.
