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“Change my mind…”
Lola waited, willing herself to stay perfectly still. If she tensed even one muscle, Beau would notice. That was the kind of attention she was dealing with. After a few seconds of silence, she realized he’d fallen asleep. “Beau?”
“Hmm?” He inhaled deeply and sighed. “What?”
“You said if I’m worried you’ll wake up and change your mind…?”
He tightened his arms around her and whispered into her hair, “I won’t.”
He fell back asleep. She bit her lip to keep her relief inside and the smile from her face. It seemed to Lola that within only a few hours, she already had the bastard exactly where she wanted him.
14
Beau opened his eyes at 5:58 A.M. on the dot, just like every other morning. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep—routine was one of the secrets to his success. It kept him on track. It was the framework by which he measured his output.
This wasn’t every other morning, though. Lola was in his arms. It didn’t surprise him, but the memory of how she’d gotten there was foggy. Beau didn’t like being woken up by anyone. It put him at a disadvantage. But if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been there in his bed that morning. And he liked her there.
He slid his arms out from under her and got up on an elbow. Her heart-shaped lips were parted for small, even breaths. He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. Based on the previous morning, this was the last thing he would’ve expected to wake up to. Even knowing Lola loved him, he wouldn’t have thought her pride would allow her to fight for him. She had a weakness for him the way he did for her.
Beau got out of the bed and pulled on his boxer briefs. Before leaving the room, he turned back and took his cell phone from the nightstand. God knew what kinds of incriminating things Brigitte might text him.
In the suite’s kitchenette, he took two mugs from a cabinet. If Lola had slept as little as he did, she’d need caffeine when she woke. He rarely made his own coffee, but he didn’t want to leave her alone to go get some. He got a pot started and checked on Lola to see if she was still asleep. She’d flipped over, her black hair strewn on the pillow like a sinister Sleeping Beauty.
He went to
the foot of the bed, let his eyes travel the sheeted curves and bends of her body. He could take what he wanted from her. Waking her with a kiss would lead him between her legs in no time. He knew her body better than she did, how to touch it, read it, manipulate it. He traced the arch of her foot underneath the sheet, and she stirred.
His respect had to be earned. That was a tall order for the women he’d slept with. But he and Lola had been through enough that he felt he owed her at least that. It wasn’t a stretch, not at all, to think he might love her. That was why he left the bed despite wanting to climb in next to her. He wouldn’t keep his hands off her if he did.
He went out to the balcony and let the morning air cool his urges. The sky had shaded from black to cobalt, silhouetting the mountains against a blue as rich as Lola’s eyes. He closed the door to the room and called Brigitte.
“Beau?” she answered and cleared her throat. “What time is it? Is everything all right?”
“Sorry to wake you.” He looked back at Lola through the windowed door. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically. This was what he’d missed those mornings she’d left at dawn. Anticipating the moment she’d wake up. Planning what they’d do with their day. “I’m coming home.”
After a moment of silence, she spoke, the smile clear in her voice. “Well, that’s news worth waking up for. I’ve missed having you around the house these past few weeks.”
Beau kept watching Lola. He went out of his way to avoid fights with Brigitte, but this was one he needed to have. He wanted to do right by Lola from now on, and that wasn’t stashing her away in a hotel room. “I’m not coming alone.”
“Meaning?” She waited. “You’re bringing someone over? Who?”
“We’ve been talking about getting you your own place for a while—”
“You’ve been talking about it,” she said, sounding more awake now. “I haven’t.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to go if I didn’t think you’d like it. Being on your own.” Over time, Brigitte had grown less independent and more reliant on Beau. He didn’t mind taking care of her, but he planned on having Lola around a lot. And for her sake, he wanted his home back. “You have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” she asked, her voice rising. “You’re throwing me out on the street. How am I supposed to trust you?”
Beau closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t blow this out of proportion. I’ll talk to my real estate agent today, and in the meantime, Warner and I will find you something temporary. You’ll be more than comfortable.”
“Pass me off to Warner like always. Did he know about this?”
“I didn’t even know until just now. And I do not pass you off to Warner. Remember our conversation about wild exaggerations?”
“It’s not an exaggeration. When was the last time you did anything for me that required more than making a phone call or writing a check? When I had that kidney infection last year, Warner took me to the hospital.”
“And I paid your medical bills without flinching,” Beau said evenly. “I’m your brother, not your employer.”
“That’s not the point. You wanted new furniture for the guestroom last month, so I got it. But you couldn’t even come by the store to give me a second opinion on what I’d picked out. ‘Just put it on the card, and have it delivered.’ Whenever I need help or a ride or anything that doesn’t absolutely require your presence, you send something else in your place. If it’s not Warner, it’s your credit card.”
“Damn it, Brigitte, we’ve been through this before. I’m fucking busy. How do you expect me to take care of you if I’m not working my ass off?”
“Maybe I need to be taken care of in other ways,” she snapped.
“I do as much for you as I’m capable of. I’m not your goddamn boyfriend. If you want someone to go shopping with you, find someone who has the time and inclination.” Beau ended the call, gripping the phone. All people ever wanted from him was money, and he was fine with that. Why couldn’t that be enough for Brigitte too? He didn’t need to be constantly reminded of his shortcomings as a brother and a son. He gave his family what he could, and that was more than what ninety-nine percent of the world had. He held up his phone again, but this time he sent Brigitte a text.
* * *
Start packing. Will have arrangements for you by tomorrow.
* * *
He turned off his phone and went back inside.
