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“Wallowing,” Bowen put in.
Beau snapped his mouth shut. His eyes were rimmed with red and the collar of his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of tanned, muscled chest. My mouth went dry and I wrenched my gaze away.
“Looks like I’m not needed here after all,” I said. “I guess I’ll get going—”
As I turned to leave, Bowen shut the door of the feed room. He threw the deadbolt with a heavy rasp of metal against wood, locking me in with Beau.
“You two aren’t going anywhere,” he said. “Not until you sort out your shit. I’m sick of watching you tiptoe around each other. Beau, you’re moping like a kicked puppy. Rory, I can’t stand hearing you lie one more time that you don’t have feelings for Beau when it’s written all over your goddamn face every time you look at him.”
I sputtered.
“That’s not true!”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Bowen said, his voice muffled through the door. “In the morning, you better be on good terms. Otherwise, you’re staying in there.”
I pounded my fist against the door and grabbed the handle, rattling it.
“Bowen, you can’t be serious! I have to get some sleep. I’m exhausted and I need to be at the bakery early tomorrow.”
Bowen made no reply. The only sound was the echo of his boots on the barn floor as he walked away.
“Sneaky bastard,” Beau muttered.
He hadn’t budged from his position, leaning back against the wall.
“Are you going to help me get this door open or not?” I demanded, yanking fruitlessly on the handle.
“That deadbolt is on the outside,” Beau replied. “Can’t do a damn thing to make it budge from in here.”
I groaned and rested my forehead against the door.
“So, that’s it? We don’t have a choice except to sit in this room all night until Bowen decides to unlock the door, hours from now?”
“Believe me, many rookies have tried to escape the feed room hazing. All of them have failed. I suggest you get comfortable.”
He didn’t look concerned in the slightest, eyes closed, posture soft and relaxed, head tipped back. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth as I stared at his exposed neck, the ridge of his Adam’s apple, the angle of his jawline.
The urge to press my lips to his hot, flushed skin sent my head reeling. I clenched my teeth and yanked desperately on the door handle again.
“It’s not going to move,” Beau drawled, slow and lazy.
“Well, I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
“There are plenty of things we can do,” Beau countered.
“If you breathe one word about kissing—”
A small smile curled the corner of his mouth up. He opened one eye to look at me.
“I was going to say that you can rest. Or we can talk. But if kissing is what you want—”
“I don’t,” I huffed, crossing my arms.
Beau hummed and closed his eyes again.
“You’re so cute when you’re stubborn.”
My cheeks flamed. The worst part was that I couldn’t escape Beau this time. I couldn’t stay busy to distract myself from the effect his words and his presence had on me.
