“Turn into this driveway up here,” Beau says.
I don’t question him, just switch on my turn signal and follow his instructions. It’s a gravel driveway, and Beau tells me to keep going all the way to the end. “Where are we?”
“Don’t worry, no one lives here. This block has been for sale for months.” He unclips his seat belt, then whacks my thigh for me to do the same.
I have no idea what we’re doing here.
I want to go home, face-plant on my bed, and ignore the world for the rest of the day.
Beau’s waiting for me in front of the car, and when I reach him, he immediately steps forward and wraps me in his arms. Like that, some of the stress loosens its hold.
My hands find his lower back, and I tilt my face down to smile into his shoulder. “What’s this?”
“You looked like you could use it.”
“You’re not wrong.”
His fingers play with the hair at the back of my neck, and neither of us moves for a long moment. Holding him close, breathing him in, it settles me like nothing else can. He’s quickly becoming my rock, and I wish I could be the same for him.
When he loosens his hold, I let him go reluctantly.
Then look around.
The driveway has a dense wood pressing on one side and a large open paddock on the other. More trees cut off the view of the road we were just on, and the land goes past another tree line and toward the mountains a half mile away.
“Want to go for a walk?” Beau asks, nodding toward the field.
“Are we allowed?”
He grins and heads toward the timber fence separating the driveway from the paddock. “Who’s going to stop us?”
Good point.
Apart from the occasional car passing back on the road, it feels cut off from the rest of Kilborough, like it’s a secret oasis away from the always busy town center. Birds call to each other from the trees, dragonflies skip over the longish grass, and when we round the second tree line, we find a pond with ducks lazily drifting across the surface.
“I didn’t even know this place was here,” I say. It’s nice. Calming.
“I’ve never been here before.” Beau holds up his hand in a wave, and I turn to see what’s caught his attention. A man’s sitting outside a small stone cottage.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I thought you said no one lives here?”
“I think that’s Trent Briller. Come on.”
We cross the distance to the cottage, and when the man stands, he does look vaguely familiar. He’s around our age with a thick beard and a broad hat planted on his head.
“Hey, Beau.” His eyes squint up kindly. “What brings you around here?”
“Sorry, I thought the place was empty. We just needed to get outside for a bit.”
“It’s a good place for it.” Trent extends a hand to me. “I think I’ve seen your face, but …”
“Payne.” I shake his hand.
“Oh, yeah, Marty’s brother.”
“The one and only.”
“What are you doing out here?” Beau asks.
Trent huffs. “Every month we have to come out and mow this son of a bitch, so I usually stay for the weekend and do it in parts.” He points toward where the grass is green and clear on the other side of the paddock.
“I’m surprised it hasn’t sold yet,” I say. “You’d think a developer would have jumped straight on it.”
Trent shakes his head. “That other half is protected land because of some of the species that breed in the pond, and the part up front we’ve been offered a fat sum for, but none of the family wants to let it go and see a bunch of houses or apartments go up.”
“I take it you’re not in a hurry to sell, then?”
“Yes and no. We want it off our hands, but Kilborough gets bigger every year, I swear, and we prefer knowing that this area is useful for more than just condos.”
“But if not a developer, who would want this much land?” Beau asks.
He has a point. It’s huge.
“It’s good farmland. Maybe a horse-riding school? Not sure, but there has to be someone out there with better ideas than me.”
Agreed, because like Trent, I’m not an ideas man. I’ll leave the creativity to Beau.
We stay for a while as Beau and Trent catch up and then make our way back to the car. Being out here, getting some perspective away from it all, has settled my annoyance over Kyle’s note.
The divorce is going to happen whether he wants it to or not, and it’s not as though he can force me to meet with him. I have no idea why he’d even want that, unless he’s hoping for a broken nose, because seeing his face again … there’s no telling what I’ll do.
Just the sight of his handwriting was enough to almost ruin my day, but it didn’t. Because of Beau.
When we get home and walk inside, I’m just debating the best way to grab Beau and drag him to my bedroom when he heads straight to his desk.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’ve had a cool idea, and I need to get it written before I forget.”
Aaand there goes my idea, then.
I watch in bemusement as Beau drops into his desk chair, wakes up his computer, and starts hammering away at the words. He loses himself in them completely, not even pausing when I move around the apartment to clean up and pull ingredients out for dinner.
It’s funny that he can go from devoting his afternoon to me one minute to completely forgetting I exist the next, and honestly … I think it’s adorable.
Which is weird, because when that fucker used to ignore me while he was playing on his phone, I’d get mad. It was rude and disrespectful and rubbed me the wrong way. I guess the joke is on me because he never had any respect for me anyway.
Whereas with Beau … I know he respects me. He’s never told me that, but he hasn’t needed to. It’s there in the way he acts, the things he does, how he doesn’t push me to talk about feelings when after last night, he’d definitely be in the right to.
It would be childish for me to think I’m not feeling something for him. Something bigger than wanting to sleep with him or flirt with him or even be friends. And if he pushed … what would I tell him? That I can easily see myself falling for him? Because fuck if that isn’t true.
I want Beau. I want to be the man he finds happiness with. But I can’t offer him happiness with this divorce hanging over my head.
It’s too distracting. All it took was one note today and I felt like my whole world was coming apart at the seams.
That’s not a healthy reaction.
I shouldn’t need Beau to fix things. To put me back together.
That sort of need is what makes me doubt my feelings for him are real and not a product of proximity and timing. I’ve never even thought about Beau in this way before—and as worried as I am about hurting him, I’m just as desperately hoping this is real. That I could be so lucky.
Beau works for hours without a break, and I have no idea how he manages it. My hands would be aching by now.
When dinner is ready, I grab Beau’s book that I’m reading and sit on the couch, not wanting to distract him by putting on the TV.
I think I’ve figured out why Beau wants to live in this world. All his characters have their eccentricities, and none of them are judged for it. They’re accepted for exactly who they are.
When I first started reading them, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, so I was relieved when he asked me not to tell him what I thought. If I hated the books and he asked me about them … well, talk about awkward.
Instead, I love them. I want to tell him how much I love Jaciel and how I think Klein is a bit of a douche, but Tombra is a badass motherfucker, and he and Jaciel should bone already. The more I read, the more I’m convinced it’s going to happen too.
I want to ask Beau about it, but I don’t want to spoil the ending, so when I reach the last pages and Tombra has just taken Klein, instead of worrying how Jaciel will get him back, all I can think is good.
But still … Beau said Jaciel had to save his love interest, which makes me think he isn’t setting up Tombra at all. I swear it’s there though. Those two have chemistry for days.
With Beau still tapping away behind me, I open my phone and do a little googling. If his books are as popular as he’s said, there should be …
Damn.
There are a lot of fan sites and fan fiction, and … wow. I do a quick scroll to the bottom of the page, then go back and type Jaciel and Tombra boning.
Bingo.
I’m far from the only one who thinks that’s where Beau is taking this thing.
I turn on the couch and watch him, dying to ask my question, and thankfully, ten minutes later, his fingers slow and he slumps in his chair.
“How’d you go?”
Beau jumps and swings around. “Shit, I didn’t know you were there.”
I hold up his book. “Just finished.”
“You did?” He hesitates, then reaches over to take it from me and sets it back on the shelf. “I don’t want to know.”
“You sure?”
He bites his lip.
I wait patiently.
“Urg, fine. Did you hate it? You totally hated it, didn’t you?”
“Nope. I mean this with total honesty, and not at all because I want to get in your pants again tonight … that was fucking incredible.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I shift. “Your writing is insane. Like I was there with your characters.”
He ducks his head. “Thanks.”
This next part is the one I’m cautious bringing up with him. He’s the only author I know, so I’m not sure how he’ll take my opinions on characters he’s created. It’s not my business to tell him how to write his books.
“Looked like you got some good words in,” I say instead.
He nods, eyes drifting toward his computer again. “A couple thousand. That scene came easily.”
“What was it about?”
“When we were out at that land and Trent was talking about how it could be used, it reminded me of how I wanted to write a scene with a full training facility for Jaciel to prepare at, but I couldn’t decide how I wanted it to look. I made it into this full outdoor obstacle course thing. It was fun.”
“That’s awesome. Does that mean the muse is back?”
“Nope.” He scowls. “I don’t know where to go from here. I’m getting further into the book, and I swear it’s like Jaciel couldn’t care less that Klein’s waiting for him.”
Interesting … “What makes you think that?”
“Every time I try to write a scene, the focus is on Tombra instead. I did a word search the other day, and Klein was mentioned three times. I’m worried he’s not worried enough about the guy he’s supposed to be in love with and that it feels … empty.”
“Huh.”
His attention snaps back to me. “That was an odd huh.”
“Uh, nope. Nothing odd here.”
“Payne …”
“Can I say something that you might not like?”
“Sure.”
I’m not convinced I can believe him, but here goes nothing. “I think it seems that way because … I don’t think Jaciel is in love with Klein.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he wants to bone Tombra.”
Beau stares at me. “No … No, they’re mortal enemies.”
“Are they though? You can’t tell me they didn’t almost kiss in that last fight they had.”
“He was trying to slit his throat.”
I snort. “Wasn’t trying that hard. I mean, he might be a badass sword fighter, but Tombra has magic and could realistically obliterate him. Like, when Jaciel got hurt and Tombra sent an army just to check he was okay?”
“They were sent to finish him off.”
I hold back my skepticism, because apparently, what I was reading wasn’t actually what he was writing. “Interpretation, maybe, but I can’t be the first person who’s mentioned that to you. There are a ton of theories online.”
Beau’s whole body is twitching with nervous energy. “I … I don’t go on social media because it makes me too anxious … Tons?”
“A whole fuck ton. You really weren’t planning to throw that plot twist in there?”
“Shit …” He stares across the room blankly, and I wonder what’s going through his mind. He isn’t angry about me pointing it out, so that’s a bonus at least. “Now I’m confused.”
“You know what helps to clear your head?” I ask.
“I don’t feel like drinking.”
“I was actually going to suggest fucking me, but if that—”
He shoots to his feet. “Deal. Now? Whose bed?”
I laugh to hide the sudden onset of nerves. It’s been a long time since I’ve bottomed for anyone so I’m not overly confident on how this will go.
“Yours.”
But when Beau takes my hand and leads me down the hall, it’s easy to ignore the nerves because it’s him.
