CHAPTER TWELVE
Beau took the B&B’s porch steps two at a time and hustled through the front door. He was a man on a mission, a dangerous one.
Back at Two Scoops he’d told Bristol he needed to run a few errands before… Beau wasn’t really sure what tonight was going to be. Bristol was expecting an enjoyable night of no-strings-attached sex, and Beau was going to wreck that with the truth.
Unless there was yet another Thanksgiving Eve miracle, and his apology was so moving that Bristol forgave him on the spot. If she didn’t forgive him, odds were the invitation to Thanksgiving lunch wouldn’t stand. But if she did, he needed to bring something. On the off chance that Bristol was incredibly forgiving, he didn’t want to be “that guy” who showed up for a family holiday empty-handed.
But what the hell was he supposed to take? He was already planning on looking up “what to take to Thanksgiving” when he got back to the room.
“Whoa. You look like you’re on your way to a funeral or a fire,” Shelby called out from behind the front desk. She had her hair pulled back in an artsy twist and was wearing a pink apron with fluffy French poodles over her turtleneck.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the mantel. His hair was standing out at all angles from nervously shoving his hands through it, and his eyes looked crazed. Beau stopped in his tracks. “You’re a woman.”
“Last time I checked,” she laughed.
“I need your help.”
“Color me intrigued,” Shelby said, leaning over the desk and resting her chin in her hand.
“The Quinns invited me to Thanksgiving.”
“The Quinns as in Bristol’s family?” Shelby’s eyebrows were approaching her hairline.
“Those Quinns, and I’ve already heard the don’t drink the water or you’ll get married and never leave speech from Lucky and Justin,” he said, saving himself the time of another lecture on the love spell of Hope Falls.
“Well, there’s always the traditional bottle of wine or flowers. You’d be fine with either of those unless, of course, you’re worried about impressing them. That’s a different story,” she said innocently.
He waited a beat. “How different?”
“Well, you’d want to show that you put forth an effort.”
“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “And how would I do that?”
“How are your cooking skills?” Shelby asked.
“Grilled cheese master level.”
She nodded and reached for a notebook. “I can work with that.” She began scribbling on the paper. “I have this insanely easy recipe for green bean casserole. You’re going to go to the store and get this stuff.” She ripped off the paper and handed it over.
Beau grabbed at it like it was a million dollar lottery ticket.
“You buy the stuff, and I’ll help you make it. We’ll do a double batch because I need some for tomorrow, too. While you’re out, get a nice bottle of red and some kind of six-pack. Mary Quinn’s side of the family is Italian, and they like their wine. Bob will appreciate the beer.”
“Thank you!” Beau said fervently and ran for the door. He paused just inside the doorway. “How long does it take to make the casserole? I have… plans tonight.”
From the look on her face, Beau figured Shelby knew exactly what those plans were.
“Maybe grab another bottle of wine,” she suggested.
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Bristol luxuriated in a long, hot shower and shaved everything that needed to be smooth and moisturized everything that needed to be soft. She dried her hair and took her time reapplying some subtle, sweat proof makeup. The outfit took longer. Apparently she’d spent far too much time running a restaurant and being a parent as her wardrobe only covered those two scenarios. No sexy lingerie, no low-cut dresses. She settled for a matching bra and underwear set that were little more than a few scraps of lace, a soft scoop neck sweater that begged to be petted, and a fitted pair of capris.
If Beau had been planning to stick around town, Bristol thought she’d probably have to start investing in a more dateable wardrobe. But for tonight, this would have to do.
She felt beyond ready, and it felt damn good just to feel something. Nerves had her dusting the living room and double-checking the freshness of the sheets on the bed. She lit candles in her bedroom and immediately decided that was too over-the-top. Candlelight was more romantic wedding night than sexy fling, she decided extinguishing the flames.
With nothing left to do, Bristol decided to calm her nerves with a little work. She settled in with her laptop at the dining room table and tackled her to do list. She fired off the last pay period’s numbers to her payroll company and entered the week’s expenses. A quick peek at her profit and loss statement showed that she was still comfortably up over last year. She ran a few calculations and poured herself a celebratory glass of wine when the numbers revealed that she’d have her parents and Nolan officially paid back in six months if sales continued the upswing.
She did a little victory jig in her chair. It was a solid confirmation that she was moving in the right direction. And with slow and steady growth, she could probably afford to bring in another body and buy herself an honest-to-goodness day off.
Feeling jubilant, Bristol scheduled out a week’s worth of Facebook posts for Early Bird. She was just putting the finishing touches on a cute Thanksgiving graphic when her phone rang.
“If you have plans with Beau, why is he emptying the shelves of the Stop ‘N Buy?” Savannah demanded.
“He’s grocery shopping?”
“Canned green beans, sour cream, two of the store’s most expensive bottles of wine and a crapload of other stuff. Tilly McWillis called me after he checked out. She says have fun tonight, by the way.”
“Does the entire town know I’m having sex tonight?” Bristol smacked a hand to her forehead and the slap echoed around her empty loft.
“Everyone except for Dad.” Savannah was not at all concerned by her sister’s lack of privacy.
“Well, let’s keep it that way. I’d hate for Thanksgiving at the Quinns’ to end with an attempted homicide,” Bristol grumbled.
Less than a minute after hanging up with Savannah, Bristol’s phone was ringing again.
“Hey, Bristol,” Tessa Maguire chirped.
Bristol could tell Hope Falls’ favorite photographer was in her car. “Hey, Tessa. I was going to call you about your Early Bird prints after the weekend. We sold every last one of them,” she said.
“Yeah? Awesome! So, I just met your Beau!” Tessa announced.
Bristol’s forehead lowered to the table. “I wouldn’t really call him my Beau.”
“I would if I were you,” Tessa laughed. “I ran into him when he was coming out of Grassy Meadow with two beautiful arrangements by the way. I can report via Reggie the florist that one of them is a lovely table arrangement, and the other is a dozen roses. So I’d get a vase ready if I were you.”
“Thanks for the head’s up, Tessa,” Bristol said dryly.
“I’m swinging by the station to give my man a sloppy kiss and pick up the dog. Want me to stop by and check out your sex night outfit?”
“How about you stop by and help me pack so I can move out of this gossip mongering town?”
“Awh, poor girl. Don’t be mad,” Tess said affectionately. “Be happy that we all love you and want you to be happy.”
“Ugh. Thanks, Tessa.”
“Wishing you many orgasms,” she said cheerily before disconnecting.
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Beau wedged his foot in the door next to Early Bird and shouldered his way through. When he’d returned to the B&B with his beast of burden-sized load, Shelby’s jaw had hit the floor. “I guess you really want to impress, huh?”
To be honest, it had been fun to shop. His condo had been fully stocked by a housekeeper and a personal chef. After that, there’d been so much time spent in hospitals eating out of vending machines and fluorescent-lit cafeterias that he hadn’t stepped foot in a grocery store, preferring to order delivery whenever he and Alli were home.
He’d made two batches of Shelby’s grandma’s green bean casserole in the B&B’s kitchen, showered as quickly as possible without missing anything important, and loaded everything he’d need for every contingency into his truck.
There were flowers and wine for seduction or apology, food and snacks in case they decided to just talk, and an overnight bag and condoms—that he’d driven to neighboring Longview to buy—in case everything went really well.
He wrestled the load up the stairs and was debating whether to kick at the door or put everything down and knock like a gentleman when it flew open.
Bristol was wearing cropped pants that hugged her long, long legs. Her sweater, a cornflower blue, dipped low at her breasts. She wore her hair long and loose, tempting his fingers to drop their load and dive into those rich tresses.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he breathed. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out, but his honesty was rewarded when Bristol launched herself at him. He dropped the bags to catch her, grabbing her by the hips and lifting her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, her lips fusing to his.
He lost the power of independent thought when her mouth opened, and she invited him in with a breathy whimper. Beau poured himself into the kiss. It wasn’t purely selfish. He wanted to give her this, the undeniable evidence of his feelings for her so that no matter what happened tonight, she could remember this moment and know.
He cared for her. He ached for her. But he owed her the truth.
“Bristol, wait.” He tried pulling back, but she followed him and their mouths tangled again. “Wait, gorgeous. There’s something I have to tell you.”
She unwrapped those long, perfect legs from his waist and slid down his body. He groaned at the friction of her sliding over his erection. She responded by nipping at his lower lip.
“You’re not married are you?” she demanded, her blue eyes narrowing.
“God, no!”
She kissed him senseless again, a reward for being unmarried. “Seeing someone?”
“No,” he breathed, trying desperately to hang on to his train of thought.
“Good. Killed anyone?” Bristol licked the seam of his lips, and his cock strained painfully against his zipper.
“Huh-uh,” he shook his head.
“Any STDs?”
“Jesus, Bristol! No. I’m clean.”
Good to know. I think that covers it.”
“Bristol—”
“Beau.” She trailed a finger down his sweater over his chest and down across his taut abs to the waistband of his jeans. “I’m not overly familiar with fling protocol, but since we’re looking at one beautiful night of obscene pleasure instead of years of commitment, I don’t think there’s anything you need to confess right now.”
She dipped her fingers into the denim, and his dick flexed painfully in anticipation. He was losing the battle.
Beau closed his eyes as she released the button of his fly. “Are you sure?” he whispered, already hating himself.
“You’re a good man. I believe that with all my heart. And that’s what matters most to me. Okay?”
He’d make it up to her. No matter what it took, he would fix it.
“Okay,” he said, in a low whisper. She lowered his zipper, and Beau put his hands on her and turned off his mind.