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She laughs lightly. “Okay.”
I pull the door open.
Freeze.
“Hi,” Beau says, arms crossed over her chest.
“Oh fuck.” I take one step to the left, like I can hide who’s behind me. “Don’t look at me like that,” I warn.
Beau’s brows lift.
“Or like that.”
Her head tilts.
“Beau, stop it.”
“I knew it!” she hisses.
I feel Pearl’s hands rest on my hips from behind, guiding me out of the stall, and I reluctantly let her. She steps out from behind me. Smiles awkwardly. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I’m a grown fucking man sneaking around, and now I’m a grown fucking man standing here like a naughty schoolboy waiting for a lecture.
No.
Beau looks at Pearl, all pouty. “I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me.”
“I . . . it was a mistake.”
I cough over my disbelief, and Pearl looks at me in apology.
“I said, was,” she points out.
“And it’s not now?” Beau asks, her disbelief rampant.
“Well . . . I don’t . . .” I listen to Pearl trip up all over her words, trying to explain herself.
Absolutely not. I get myself behind her and cover her mouth with my hand. This is not going down like this. Beau looks up at me in question. I can see it in her eyes. The accusations. The assumptions. I lean into Pearl’s ear. “Go get your wetsuit on,” I order gently, releasing her mouth and taking her shoulders, leading her to the door. I’m not having her standing here under the spotlight like she’s committed an outrageous crime. “Go.” I open the door and she turns to me, looking worried and guilty. “Go,” I reiterate softly, and she relents, turning and walking away quietly. I close the door and face Beau.
She looks pissy. Here it comes. “She’s quite obedient, isn’t she?” she snaps.
But of course she’d go straight there. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“So you’re not fucking her?” she asks, her expression angry. “Brad!”
“I do not have to explain myself to you.” I brush past her, incensed by her extremely low opinion of me. Even if it’s fair. I pull the door open, Beau chasing my heels.
“You do have to explain yourself, Brad. You really do.”
“I really don’t, Beau.”
“She’s young.”
“I know how old she is.”
“What can you offer her?”
“Who are you, her mother?”
“I’m the closest she fucking has.” She reaches for my shoulder and yanks me to a stop, and because it’s Beau, and only because it’s Beau, I let her. Taking some calming breaths, I face her. She looks annoyed, disgusted, and worried. “You’re old enough to be?—”
