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His chest heaves, the splatter of liquid making the cotton of his T-shirt stick to his clearly defined pecs. Only someone who grew up in the household I did could be smack dab in the middle of a moment like this and be checking a guy out.
Head held high, shoulders perfectly straight. Like he’s some sort of knight in shining armor. One who starts pulling up a stool every Sunday through Tuesday to drink chamomile tea until midnight, so I don’t have to close by myself.
Cade: You must be new here. Willa runs everyone’s show.
“Seeing anyone?” “Like a doctor?” She nods. “Nah.” “Why see a professional when we can diagnose ourselves, right?”
“You’re big and handsome, Beau. Some people might think that means you’re stupid. I think you let people think you are because it’s easier that way.”
“If we’re struggling, we’re still in motion, yeah? Heading somewhere better. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.”
I sit up on the back of a horse, staring over the ridge at a valley of cows who all look the fucking same. They look the same, they eat the same thing every day, they follow each other around almost blindly. Everything about their existence seems very simple. Boring even. And yet they all seem happy. I wish I were a cow.
Sweet, quiet little Bailey Jansen, who just asked me about anal sex like she was asking about whether I take cream in my coffee.
“I don’t usually ask a person’s permission before thinking about them while I masturbate.”
I promised her I wouldn’t make any more scenes at her bar. But I’m about to break that promise. Because gawking at her while watching porn is bad enough. But laying a single fucking finger on her without her consent? That’s a death wish.
Beau has spent years portraying himself as a happy-go-lucky goofball and it’s at this exact moment I realize that was part of his cover. Part of how he protects everyone he loves from the fact this is who he is. Beau is lethal.
I wave off her words. I’m not accustomed to being rejected. Rejection doesn’t factor into my mindset. I usually get what I want, at any cost.
“Why don’t you get in?” “Why?” Her lips twitch. “So I can see what I’m signing up for. Are you husband material, Beau Eaton?” “Probably not.” I smirk. “But if you want to show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
Wow, okay, just out with it then. Bailey Jansen yelling about anal sex over the creek bed has my boxers feeling outrageously uncomfortable, my dick ready to stand at attention.
A strangled laugh bubbles up in me. What else am I supposed to do? She’s the most confusing combination of innocent, curious, and forthright.
He looks haunted yet at peace. He looks beautiful. Too good. Good enough that I could end up standing here gawking at him while my lack of experience flaps in the wind.
Maybe he’s overbearing, but after a lifetime of being ignored or lavished with negative attention, his concern wraps around me like a warm blanket.
He leads me up the hill and I try not to stare at his ass.
“Cute. Really cute.” I gently slap him across the shoulder to cut the tension, not wanting to bask in him and his smooth words for too long. I remind myself that Beau is older and charming and about to be my fake fiancé.
He’s always been a flirt—a showboat—and it’s nice to get a peek at that side of him. It feels good to be the one who can bring it out in him, but if I’m going to go through with this bet, I’ll need to keep reminding myself that we’re pretending.
He shrugs from across the table, dipping his tea bag into the steaming mug of water … over and over again. It’s almost sexual. In, out. In, out.
“I’m nervous. You make me nervous.” “Why?” He doesn’t budge, keeping his focus entirely on me. Because I’m endlessly horny, and have you met yourself?
He leans forward now, elbows propped on the table, mug between his big palms. I stare. I wish I was that mug.
“No anal sex, Bailey,” he deadpans. “I know you’re really interested, but I’m just not that into it.”
He laughs now. It’s deep and warm and makes me wonder how I’ll ever find someone else I want to have sex with when I’m spending all my time with Beau Eaton.
“You don’t see the shit I’ve seen and still believe a single thing is permanent. I saw the way it crushed my family when I went missing. I don’t want to put anyone else through that. Once you’ve been sent on your way with a shiny new reputation, it’ll just be me and my tea. I’ll never fall in love, won’t let myself.”
Strong fingers rap against the table as he fires back, “I’ve never seen you with anyone, either.” I laugh, because of course he’s never seen me with anyone. “I suppose my extensive vibrator collection doesn’t prove much either, huh?” He groans and shifts again. “Jesus, Bailey. You always just blurt shit like that out?”
Beau’s head shoots up, an expression of shock painting his face. “Are you joking right now?” I bite hard on the inside of my cheek. “No. I told him about the one that has all these different vibration settings and the one that has this little suction cup that attaches to the wall. Oh, and the one that straight up looks like a real dick but way, way bigger—” He leans across the table and covers my mouth to silence me.
“You can’t just run around telling creepy old men about this stuff,” he says in a strangled voice. “Give yourself some credit, Beau. You’re only thirty-five.” His shoulders jump on a chuckle, and I let a laugh slip now. “And for a tier one operator, you sure are gullible.” His head snaps up to me, tips of his ears just a little pink. “Gary doesn’t know about your vibrator collection?” “No, sir.” I salute him. “You’re the only one.”
“I guess it’s fine that I know about your collection. Seeing as how we’re engaged now. And I’m not even threatened by the twelve-inch one.” I swallow and parry the joke away like I didn’t hear it
I slide my hand across the table, and he envelops it in his large palm. We shake. We exchange numbers. And just like that … I’m engaged.
Beau: Should we make our debut tonight? Bailey: While I’m at work? Beau: Yeah. I haven’t seen you in a few days. We still on? Don’t you need to start applying for jobs? The bar would be a simple place to start. Then we can do dinner at the ranch one night. Bailey: Yeah. Beau: So, tonight? Bailey: Sure. Yeah. That’s fine. Beau: Don’t be nervous. Gary won’t even know what’s going on. Just get my tea ready, babe. Bailey: Can we not do the babe thing? Beau: Why not? Bailey: It’s just so unoriginal. Beau: So, not only do I have to be your fake fiancé, but I also have to come up with an original
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“That’s fast, boy. What are your intentions? She’s a lot younger than you. Nicer. A hell of a lot prettier. What are you up to?” I turn to Gary now, appreciating that he has Bailey’s back. It’s about time someone did.
“You’re not wrong. She’s all of those things. But she’s also … ” My eyes slip back to her. She looks fucking terrified. “Brought me back to life. Can’t imagine my days without her.”
She looks very engaged wearing that rock, and it has the caveman inside of me beating his proverbial chest.
Every time she catches someone staring, I see the corners of her mouth twitch before she presses her lips together and averts her gaze. And that right there makes the ring worth the ridiculous price tag. I’ve saved my money for years and was never sure what I wanted to spend it on. This seemed like a worthy investment.
I mean, have you seen my dildo collection? My YouPorn search history? A silicon vibrator I pretend is Jensen Ackles snagged my hymen years ago.
“I’m horny,” I blurt, deciding I’d rather not lie. What’s the point? He sees through it anyway. His gray irises latch onto mine for a few beats. I expected him to laugh, but he just stares at me. “What? Is that so alarming to you? Is it because I’m a woman? I’m twenty-two, and I swear I’m almost at the point where I’d fuck anyone just to try it out.” He groans now, hands back on his face. “Bailey.”
When my eyes trace lower, I can see his length straining against his shorts. With his eyes covered, I casually hold my hand out to compare sizes. For science. “You can’t fucking say things like that to me.” “Why not?” I snort, a thrill racing through my body when I realize his dick is longer than my hand. “We’re engaged. I’m practicing, remember?”
“What are we practicing right now, exactly? Other than making my dick so hard it might burst?” I nod, staring at his penis and feeling very mature and matter-of-fact about it. No, this is good. Normal. “We’re practicing talking about sex. I’ll need to be open about it one day when I do it, right? So I might as well get comfortable talking to a man about … ” I flail my hand around as ...
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chance another look at his crotch and watch him reach down to adjust himself, a quiet groan escaping me as I do. My brain spirals. How must that feel? Taste? He does it so casually, with such surety. I bet he fucks like that too. Like he just knows he’s good at it. No bumbling. No stuttering.
I bet Beau Eaton knows how to handle a woman’s body like a pro.
He’s all business now. Except for the leaf stuck in his hair. My cheeks tug up at the sight.
Only to see that the swelling in his shorts is still there. This is fake, fake, fake.
Suddenly, I feel a lot less grown-up. I feel giddy and uncertain, and like I need to get away so I can squeal into a pillow and overanalyze every single thing that has happened in my life for the past few days.
I have most certainly bitten off way more than I can chew. And all I can think as I stare down at this beautiful, broken, confusing man is … What the fuck have I done?
He overwhelms me. Looking at him will do nothing to quell the way my heart is racing in my chest.
“Is the surprise that you two are going to eye fuck each other while we all watch?” Willa asks casually as her fiancé, Cade, scrubs a hand over his face and groans beside her.
I feel like an awkward rag doll. Being held by a Ken doll.
“Not a big fan of sharing something once I decide it’s mine.” Her lips part. And fuck. I should stop, but the side of me that sees danger and runs straight toward it has made an appearance tonight. So I reach out and run my palm over her silky hair, cupping her head. “I’ll start leaving the back door unlocked for when you decide you want to find out if I’m a prude or not.”
