Hopeless (Chestnut Springs Book 5)

Beau: Cade called me out early. You were out cold, so I didn’t wake you. But I didn’t want you to think I just ditched you either.

Bailey: You left me breakfast and a note on the kitchen island. Why would I think you ditched me?

Beau: Thought you might see this first when you checked your messages. Didn’t want you to think I’d do that to you.

Bailey: I just didn’t check. You’re the only person who messages me. Thank you.

“Where’s Beau this morning?” Summer looks up at me from behind the front desk of her athletic club. She’s fresh-faced, sporting a topknot with damp hair by her temples, and she’s wearing a branded Hamilton Athletics tank top stretched tight over her chest.

“He said Cade called, and he had to run out and help with something at the ranch.” I try to keep my voice bright, taking in the wide-open gym with high ceilings and perfectly polished mirrors.

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that he was gone when I woke up. Couldn’t tell if he really had work or was making an excuse. This all started out as a show, but the things that are happening behind closed doors make it feel like a hell of a lot more.

There’s something fractured about Beau. About his spirit. Like he’s torn between so many versions of himself and doesn’t know which one to pick.

I wish he knew it’s okay to be all of them with me.

He swaps from solemn and brooding to playful and flirtatious, to sensual and domineering, to introspective and sensitive. Frankly, it’s becoming difficult to keep up with which version he’s going to give me each day.

It’s becoming difficult to not want them all.

We’re intimate and he walks away like nothing happened. I’m unfamiliar with how to navigate relationships with men, and I’m realizing I picked a complicated one to get my feet wet.

“Okay, well, I’ll show you around and get you acquainted with everyone and the space.” She takes a swig of water and smiles at me. “When do you want to start?”

“Anytime. Literally any time. Today?” Am I coming off as desperate? Maybe, but I don’t care. I am desperate. “Monday?”

Her head tilts in question. “I thought you worked at the bar on weekdays?”

I shrug. “Yeah, I do.” But that makes no difference. I’m used to working hard. “I don’t mind, though.”

“You’re going to work both jobs on those days?” She seems slightly alarmed.

“I need the money,” I confess.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” She twists the cap back onto the bottle. “I just … I figured Beau would give you a bit of a leg up.”

I keep my face blank.

“He’s done well as a single guy with next to no expenses. Invested well. He’s—”

I scoff and wave a hand. “Oh, totally. I just don’t want to rely on him, you know? I’ve been forced to be super independent my entire life, so it’s hard to escape that.” My explanation really isn’t much of a reach. I pride myself on how hard I work, on busting my ass to be different from the people who raised me.

“Well, why don’t we work your shifts around your current schedule so you can still have a couple of days off? Be with your man.” Summer winks at me, like we’re two girls who know what the other is up to.

I feel instant guilt. She’s been so kind to me, and I’m lying to her face and using her brother-in-law to get ahead.

My brain cycles back to where it did earlier, and I wonder again …

“Did Beau ask you to do this?”

Summer rears back. “Do what?”

I shift on the spot, suddenly nervous. Asking that was probably a bad idea, but I don’t back down. I asked, and I meant it. “Hire me.”

The other woman eyes me speculatively, and we stare at each other, but not for long. She catches me off guard when she laughs. “That’s funny, because Beau would absolutely do something like that. Those Eaton boys are a protective bunch, but no. If I started letting those meatheads make my business decisions, they’d take over the damn place. Beau hasn’t asked me to do anything for you, Bailey.”

My eyes skim over her face, and then I nod. “Okay.”

She mimics the motion and replies back with her own, “Okay.”

Then I spend the next couple of hours learning the ropes at Hamilton Athletics.

My new job.

“We’re going out,” Beau announces as he struts into his modern marbled kitchen. His jeans and V-neck T-shirt have no business clinging to his body the way they do.

I want to be that shirt.

I glance down at my cropped tank top and oversized sweats, rolled over and over at the waist. “We are?”

“Yeah. I’m taking you out.”

I look down again, wondering if he’s blind, because I am definitely not ready to go anywhere. I’ve got a celery stick in one hand, a jar of peanut butter in the other, and I’m leaning up against the kitchen counter having a snack.

“I’m good.” Going out in this town is a constant exercise in humility.

“Oh, yeah?” His eyes peruse me, licking over every inch of my body. Flicking every switch. Like electricity zipping through a circuit, I go from relaxed to highly aware of him in an instant.

I guess tonight I get the sexed-up version of Beau.

“Yeah. Every time we go out, it’s a huge spectacle with drama and whispers. I started at the gym today with Summer and worked a bit, so I’m all set.”

My sentiment hangs in the air between us, and his gray eyes flash. I’m all set.

We can both see that means we might not need this arrangement anymore. We can both see the point I just made flashing like a neon light between us.

We both pretend it’s not there.

“I’m not taking you out in Chestnut Springs. We’re heading into the city.”

That has me straightening, my eyes snapping to his.

“Why?”

He smirks. “For fun.”

His expression drips with promise, and I don’t know what to make of it.

“Just us?”

He nods. “Just us.”

“Why?” I ask again, mostly because I’m trying to figure out what this means. Where we stand. Beau has me all twisted up inside, and I should have known we’d end up confused. I should have seen this coming.

Once again, he gives me the same simple answer. “Because I want to, Bailey.”

“Well, I can’t go out like this.” I sniff and twist the lid back onto the peanut butter.

“Why not?” I detect his teasing tone, and the motion of him propping a hip against the kitchen island and crossing his arms, making his biceps bulge, draws my eyes.

Fuck, he’s hot.

“Because look at you.” I wave a hand over him. “You look like that, and I have to try to match you.”

“You do match me. And it has nothing to do with what you’re wearing.”

I have to turn away because I don’t know what to make of that sentence. All I know is I can’t meet Beau’s eyes in the wake of it, so I opt to put the peanut butter back into the pantry and give him my back.

I sense his gaze burning between my shoulder blades.

“What if I tell you I still don’t want to go?”

I feel him prowling closer, his voice dropping an octave as he adds, “Then I’ll have to do my best to be even more convincing.”

A shiver races down my spine. I’m talking a big game, but the prospect of going into the city with Beau, where no one knows us, where he’s not an Eaton and I’m not a Jansen …

It’s really appealing. Fun is a rare commodity for me, so I’m willing to give it a try.

Large hands land on my shoulders and he turns me around to face him. Then his fingers slide under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Bailey, I don’t give a fuck what you wear. You can wear that if you want. Won’t stop me from taking you out.”

My cheeks flush. He’s not Aloof Beau tonight. He’s … almost aggressive in saying what he wants. It has my chest fluttering and my stomach flipping.

“Not a chance. I’ll go change.” I force myself to sound unaffected, but I’m not sure it works. I would guess that my pink cheeks are a dead giveaway.

“And don’t wear a frilly little dress, Bailey. We’re taking my bike.”

The thought of spending an hour pressed up against Beau makes my cheeks burn brighter. Still, I hold my head high as I walk away, through the spacious house and toward the stairs that lead up to my room.

I’ve started keeping all my clothes there, even though my trailer is pretty much on his front lawn.

That’s another thing we haven’t talked about. The heat wave is over, and yet here we are. Still living together.

It feels a little like the straw house we built is starting to tumble.

I don’t need the air conditioning, and yet I’m still here.

I don’t need another job, and yet I’m still here.

I don’t need to go out with Beau tonight, and yet I do.

I hold him close, the wind whipping against us as we race down the highway into the city.

At every stoplight, he reaches back and rubs my calf until it turns green again.

And nothing about any of it feels fake.