French toast anyone?

Charlotte

I feel like an idiot. Beau thinks I’m an idiot. I’m pretty sure I am an idiot.

I all but called him a pimp when I questioned his intentions today. He’s a nice guy trying to do something nice for my family and me and I accused him of wanting to have sex with me. All the stress is making me nuts. I need to try and relax and enjoy this breakfast away with Beau and make him see I’m not bat shit crazy.

Inside the foyer of the Belfair I stand in awe of the grandest staircase I’ve ever seen. It’s as wide as the room at its base splitting half way up into two side staircases that lead patrons to what I can only imagine are luxurious suits. A thick red carpet with gold trim runs up the center of the stairs. I follow it up and gawk at an enormous crystal chandelier hanging there, sparkling as if someone just cleaned each of the hundreds of sparkling pieces of glass this morning, and maybe they did. This is the kind of place that has hundreds of staff members on the payroll solely to keep it pristine and glowing.

“You like?”

“I love,” I breathe, frozen in place like a small child in a huge toy store for the first time.

“Maybe we can come and stay here sometime, you know, in exchange for me giving your parents land and a house.” He lightly spanks my ass before taking my hand and leading me behind the stairs to the restaurant. I should balk at having my behind swatted but I don’t. I liked it.

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?”

“Nope.”

I groan on our way to the hostess stand, which is more like a giant wooden bench where a judge would sit in a courtroom, than a simple hostess area.

The room is buzzing with activity, waiters dressed in black slacks and crisp clean white shirts with long black aprons tied around their waists, families eating, business people having coffee and now Beau and I.

I suddenly feel underdressed in the impressive formal dining room but I forget the second Beau releases my hand and slides it around my waist pulling me against him.

“We have a reservation under Hill,” he says to the hostess. She does a quick head to toe of Beau, that is probably only noticed by me, and looks at her reservation book that resembles a giant Bible.

“Oh yes, here you are Mr. Hill, wonderful to have you here again. Let me take you to your table.” She’s nauseating with her sugary flirtatious tone and wide perfect smile. I have nothing to be irritated about. I’m not with Beau like that and I have no claim on him even though his body language is saying otherwise.

He smiles down at me right before he guides me through the tables, following the hostess, with his hand burning the small of my back through the light material of my jumper. He pulls out a chair when we reach our table for me to sit and again I am stunned into silence by the beauty of the hotel.

The entire back wall of the restaurant is made up of glass windows with crisscrossed heavy wooden panes. The windows overlook a lake that is surrounded by mountains and the gorgeous Montana sky.

Our table is situated right in the center of the windows easily making it the best table in the house.

“Your waitress with be right with you Mr. Hill, enjoy your breakfast,” the sexy hostess says without a nod in my direction at all. The way he casually dismisses her with a polite thank you makes me all tingly inside.

The hostess is a knock out, long silky black hair and even longer legs, deep brown skin and features like a Cherokee Indian. Yet he can’t keep his eyes off of me.

“You like?”

I smile at the familiar question and tear my eyes from the view. “I love.”

“I thought you would. It’s one of the most beautiful places to eat in the world as far as I’m concerned. Before the waitress comes would you be offended if I ordered for you? I promise you’ll love it.”

“Sure.” I turn back to the lake and watch a man step off the dock into his small boat with his fishing gear. I used to love to fish but I haven’t done it since I left for college. There are so many things I miss about ranch life. College has made me soft to the physical demands of working on the land, but I’ll be able to make up for that soon enough.

“Do you come here a lot? The hostess said welcome again like you’re a regular.”

“Yes, I guess you could say that if you consider one or two breakfasts a month and a lunch date with our accountant here and there a lot.”

“I do, especially if you have to fly here every time, which I imagine you do.”

“Yes, it’s way too far to drive but if I didn’t have a plane I would.”

Our waitress comes, her name is Anna and Anna is smitten with Beau. She’s not obvious and flirty like the Indian hostess. Anna blushes and fidgets and stumbles over her words and I feel sorry for her.

Beau orders French toast for both of us, even though he isn’t supposed to have sugar like that. I frown and sit back in my seat when Anna walks away.

“Two orders of French toast?”

“Yes, and before you get your panties in a wad I know the chef and he makes mine special.”

“Without sugar?”

“Sugar substitute, it’s not as good as the real thing but it’s close.”

I’m curious as to why this makes me feel better. Beau’s health isn’t my responsibility he can eat whatever he wants.

“So, tell me about yourself Charlotte. I haven’t seen you in four years, are you still a cheerleader? Do you still run cross-country track? Do you have a boyfriend back at school?”

The first two questions are easy to answer and make sense but the boyfriend question doesn’t compute at first.

“I’m a different person now Beau. I haven’t picked up a pom pom in over four years and I would probably pass out if I went on a run.”

He leans back in his chair and searches my face for something. “So you do have a boyfriend?”

“No, I don’t date.”

He lifts his chin and his eyebrows crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t date.” It’s not another question; it’s more of a statement of disbelief.

“No, I’m busy with my school work and working part time at the vet clinic to help pay for my tuition. I don’t have time for anything else.”

“Ever?”

“Ever what?”

“You haven’t had time lately or you haven’t had time the past four years?”

“I haven’t had time to date since I started college. My last date was when Brian Mackintosh took me to the senior bonfire.”

This information causes him to lean forward with his elbows on the table arms crossed in front of him inquisitive and unbelieving.

“Not once? You haven’t been on one single date in four years, no sex, nothing?”

“Not one, and no to the second part, not that it’s any of your business.”

He flops back in his chair and drops his arms to his sides. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Why? A lot of people go to college to learn. Not everyone parties and sleeps around.”

“College is a rite of passage into the adult world of working. Most people take advantage of the freedom and have a little fun. You did the opposite, why is that?”

“I had fun in high school, I went to college to learn not have fun.”

“You’re right, you aren’t the same person. I like this serious studious Charlotte better than the shallow cheerleader.”

“Well I’m glad you approve of my life choices.” I roll my eyes and cross my legs kicking the tip of my turquoise boot out from under the white tablecloth. Beau glances down at my wiggling foot and back at me.

“So that’s all it is? You… just wanted to study… there’s no particular incident that triggered this drastic change in personality?”

“Are you going to psychoanalyze me or are we going to get to know each other?”

He leans forward and reaches across the table covering my hand with his much larger tanned one. The room tilts for a fraction of a second and rights just as fast.

“We are going to get to know each other.” I stare down at his hand frozen. I should slip mine out from under it but I can’t move. It’s like he is a human dose of Ketamine paralyzing me with one touch.

The waitress arrives breaking the spell when she places our drinks on the table in front of us; orange juice for me, and some kind of special tea for him. I learned five minutes ago when we ordered that Beau is a health food weirdo. He says he doesn’t drink coffee because of the stimulating effects of caffeine. Apparently tea doesn’t have as much in it or maybe there’s no caffeine in this particular tea. Who knows? It’s all too weird for me. I drink coffee for the exact reason he doesn’t. I need a jump-start in the morning and sometimes again around two in the afternoon. Without it I would have never made it through college.

“Did you go to college?” I know the answer to this question because everybody in Redwater knows each other’s business. I know he went to school somewhere out East but I want to switch the focus off of me and onto him so I ask.

“Yes, of course. I went to Cornell, got my bachelors in agriculture.”

“Cornell? Wow, must be nice.”

“My dad insisted I go away to college and make sure I didn’t want to do something else with my life. Cornell was the college furthest away. I think that’s why he pushed me so hard to go there. He was right, it was a good experience and now I know that ranching is what I want to do forever.”

“They have a great veterinarian program there. I would have given my right arm to go to Cornell.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot of opportunities for one armed veterinarians.”

“You never know, one armed vets who graduated from an Ivy League college might be more in demand than you think.”

He chuckles at this and his sharp navy blue eyes soften and warm. I like that his smiles go all the way to his eyes. You can tell a lot about a person from their smile.

“So you went to Cornell and came back home to run your ranch, tell me more about you.”

“Not much to tell.”

“Why’d you move out of your house?”

He takes a drink of his tea. A move that I am considering a stall but I’ll wait, I really want to know.

“My mother has Alzheimer’s, I need to be close to help out. No one knows that though, so I’d appreciate it if you kept it between us.”

I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t this. He really is a nice guy, or at least so far what he’s told me points in that direction. And he’s trusting me with a secret, a big one.

“I won’t tell anyone, promise. Is it advanced?”

“She was diagnosed last fall, it wasn’t too bad until about a month or two ago. Now she’s in and out, there are times she doesn’t know who I am at all.”

I saw firsthand the devastating effects of Alzheimer’s disease when my Aunt Rhonda died from it. The sadness in his voice pinches my heart and it’s my turn to slide my hand across the table and cover his.

“I’m sorry, that must be hard to handle.”

He is staring at my hand on his and I swear he is fighting back tears.

“Thank you. I’m going to hire a nurse today to stay with her when we are working. My dad insists we can do it alone but he’s in denial. There’s no telling what she might do, she could burn the house down, injure herself, wander away. My imagination runs away with me when I’m gone thinking of all the possibilities.”

An older woman approaches our table holding two massive plates of French toast and I sit back removing my hand from Beau’s.

“Two French toasts, one naturally sweet one is a faker, who gets what?” Her voice is scratchy like she’s smoked cigarettes since she was three years old.

“I’m the natural, he’s the fake.” I point at Beau and the woman chuckles.

“Well here you go Mrs. Natural and this is for you Mr. Fake, be careful the plates are a little warm. Enjoy your breakfast, Anna will be back to check on you, she’s just a little busy right now and I didn’t want your food to get cold.”

“We appreciate that…” Beau doesn’t know what to call her, they don’t wear name badges here, too swanky.

“Carol, I’m Carol. Nice to meet you both.”

“Well we appreciate that Carol, Baxter’s French toast is only seventy five percent as amazing when it’s cold but still better than average hot French toast.”

“Oh, you know old Baxter?”

“Yeah, he was a friend of my dad’s.”

“He’s been here since the beginning of time, I know because I’ve been here almost as long. I’ll tell him you said hello, I didn’t catch your real name though.”

“Beau Hill, my dad’s name is…”

“Mack Hill, yes I know him too. I’ll tell Baxter you said hello.”

It could be me being sensitive or reading too much into it but her knowing who Mack Hill is didn’t sound like a good thing. It sounded almost like she didn’t like Beau’s dad.

“Thanks.”

“I have to get back to work, nice chatting with you two.”

“Bye, nice to meet you,” I say, but she’s gone before the words have left my lips.

“What was that about?” I ask picking up my fork and knife ready to inhale the perfect crispy thick pieces of toast.

“Syrup, they don’t put it on you have to do it yourself. This is the best syrup you’ll ever taste.” He hands me the small carafe of syrup I hadn’t noticed on the table.

“Thanks, why the change of subject?” I drizzle syrup all over my plate and my mouth waters.

“I don’t know. She must not like my dad.”

“That’s weird, why would you say that?” I mean, my parents say Mack Hill is a lying, scheming, no good ass hat but I think that’s just the stupid family feud talking.

He takes a bite and chews until it must be liquid in his mouth. More stalling. I don’t eat. Instead I wait for an explanation.

“Eat,” he says with his fork poised to take another bite.

“Not until you tell me why that old lady might not like your dad.”

He places his knife and fork along the edges of his plate and sighs sitting back.

“My dad has done some things in the past that pissed people off.”

“Such as?”

“Such as buying up more land then he could ever use just to say it’s his when someone else really needed it, such as making business promises that he never fulfilled. Such as cheating on my mother.”

That last part is like a gut punch after what he just told me about his mother. I can live with the my ranch is bigger than yours crap and everyone has a few bad business deals here and there. But cheating on your wife, that shows a man’s true character.

“Oh.” We stare at each other for a moment until I decide it’s time to eat. We do so in silence until every delicious bite is gone. He wasn’t exaggerating, that was the best breakfast I’ve ever had.

“I’m so full.”

“Me too, it was good though right?”

“Oh my god yes, so good.”

“Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. I love all breakfast food but this,” he points at his empty plate, “this is six stars out of five. What’s your favorite?”

“Breakfast food or meal?”

“Meal.”

“I never thought about it but I guess I like snacks.”

“Snacks don’t count.”

“Okay then, dinner. I like to sit down at the end of the day with a glass of wine and a steak.”

“But you’re a poor college student.”

“Yeah well I used to have a home, and we used to eat pretty well, and my parents used to let us have wine with dinner.”

“I see. You’re almost done with school and you will be living in my house with plenty of money. Maybe we can get together for dinner and wine one night.”

“Maybe. That’s the second time you’ve done that.”

“Done what?”

“Turned a discussion into a future engagement.”

“That was a joke, although I would love to spend the night with you here. No strings attached of course.”

“How about dinner and wine first, and not at your house…”

“Your house.”

“My rental house. We could start out in a restaurant and work our way to private dinners alone.” I am positive that if I were alone with Beau I would hand over my V card without a second thought after dinner and a couple of glasses of wine. I’m strong willed and disciplined but I don’t know anybody who could resist the likes of Beau Hill.

“However you want to do it sweetheart, as long as I get to spend more time with you.”

“What are we doing here Beau?”

He looks down at his plate and scrunches up his face. “Having breakfast I thought.”

“You know what I mean. We came here to talk about your plan and all we’ve done is plan two more… I don’t know what you want to call them, dates?”

“Yes dates. Like this, where I take you places and spoil you and make you happy except I’m hoping we will end up in bed at the end of those dates.”

My heart skips a beat and my hands in my lap feel clammy. I have fantasized about my first time since I was thirteen and saw a male model on television strut down a runway in nothing but white bikini bottoms. Beau is the first man I’ve ever considered giving it to and I’ve met some incredible men at school.

None of them made my muscles weak and put pop rocks in my tummy though and Beau does both. I have to tell him, he needs to know he’s not dealing with a pro here. I am a fresh out of the box brand spanking new virgin getting into a Lamborghini to learn how to drive, when I should be in a Volkswagen Golf. I never did anything small, my whole life I have been known to tackle the hardest projects, throw myself into the deepest water, and climb the highest mountains. Why stop now?

“Beau, I have to tell you something.”

With impeccable timing Anna arrives to clear our plates and ask how everything was. When she is gone he leans forward. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Oh, nothing, we should be heading back.”

“No, we were discussing dates and sex and you had something to tell me. You looked serious, what is it?”

I wring my napkin in my lap and search for the best way to explain to this man that I have never had sex before.

“Hey, you still with me?”

“Yeah, sorry, this is awkward. I’m not sure how to say it so I’ll just say it. I’m a virgin.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his ample lips part. Well, it was nice knowing ya Beau Hill. I’m pretty sure from that reaction that he will renege on our dates and possibly back out of our plan to help my family, but I had to tell him, he had to know.

When the initial shock has worn off he stands and rounds the table to my chair. He reaches down to take my hand and I look up at him puzzled by his reaction.

He wants to leave? He probably wants to take me home now and send my inexperienced ass back to the hotel with my parents and Stella and Jack Jr.

I place my napkin on my plate and slip my hand in his. He moves me in front of him and with his hand low on my hip, low enough that technically you might call it my ass, and he guides me out of the restaurant without paying.

I want to remind him of this little fact but something tells me it’s best to just stay quiet and see where this is going.

When we are in the luxurious foyer he moves his hand from my hip to the small of my back and leads me to the staircase I admired when we arrived. When he puts pressure on my back encouraging me to take a step up I stop and break the silence.

“Beau, where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?” There’s that question again, the one that I should answer with a resounding “no” but I don’t because I do trust him. It’s a mystery as to why, but I do, I have since the first time we talked on the hill of my family’s baron ranch. Maybe it’s because we have known of one another our whole lives, and even though we never spoke, there is still that familiarity. He isn’t a perfect stranger off the street asking me to trust him. He has lived across the road from me since birth. We went to the same schools together. We even had the same teachers a few years. Our parents made fools of themselves trying to keep us apart but the principal stood strong and refused to move us because of an old family feud. That principal was easily smarter than our parents, too bad he didn’t encourage us to interact we may have been friends.

“Yes,” I whisper and allow him to lead me up the stairs and to the right. I hold tight to the bannister until we reach the top and miss its support when Beau leads me down a long softly lit hallway.

The hall is lined with doors that lead to suites, one after another after another, I wait for him to stop and open one of them. At the end there is a floor to ceiling window, with long heavy gold drapes that pool on the ground under it, that overlooks the mountains. If I weren’t being dominantly lead down the hall I would stop and take it all in.

When we reach the window I find that it’s not the end of the hall after all and we take a left. The doors down this hall are spaced further apart suggesting that the rooms are larger in this wing. My heart is hammering in my chest when he finally stops in front of a door at the end of the hall with the number 1111 painted in gold numbers on it.

He opens the door, no key, no number pad or card reader, although I imagine if it were locked a big old skeleton key would be the kind to open it.

“Is this your room?”

“My father’s. He brings my mother here sometimes. It’s not too far away from home but far enough that it feels like a vacation.”

“And what are we doing here? I ask, still standing in the hall hesitant, to enter.

“We are going to end this lifelong dry spell of yours baby.” I was kind of afraid he would say that and excited at the same time. Do I want to do this? Am I ready? Is he the one I want to give my innocence to?

Yes, yes and hell yes.