The open road was waiting. I approached Beau. He stood frozen, watching me.
An electrifying thrill zapped through me as Beau swooped in for a soft kiss on my lips. He wanted me and I certainly wanted him. A significant leap forward. The garment bag came into my line of vision. “Take it. I don’t want it to get wrinkled.”
Mark consideration down on the list of good qualities of my adorable guy. It was happening for us. I mentally crafted Chandler’s eviction notice.
Birmingham, Alabama
“Hey, buddy,” Beau said, heartwarmingly sweet. My guy. His strong rough palm caressed from my forearm to my bicep. “We’re here, Dash.”
The compact travel pillow under my head might be the best purchase I’d ever made. The small fleece blanket may come in second. I drew it up to my chin, settling into the slight recline of the seat. A yawn followed.
Who knew a ten-year-old truck could ride so smoothly with such relaxing seats?
Wait. Smooth didn’t mean still.
My lids flipped open, searching out the front windshield for the time of day. Bad call. Overly bright sunshine assaulted my vision as I pushed up in the seat, righting myself. Apparently, I’d been asleep for hours.
“You snore.”
“I don’t think so.” But how did I know? The relentless sun hit from every angle, no matter which way I turned. I fumbled with the visor to block the blinding light, stealing a glance at my reflection in the dinky mirror.
What I wasn’t was a morning person, and I cared about my appearance. And what I saw ensured my morning’s bad mood.
The growing facial hair couldn’t be helped. I wished I had gotten in the habit of using a handheld shaver. Outside of that, I had a small amount of bed head to contend with. The disheveled style I currently wore took a decent amount of product and time in order to look effortless. I swiftly arranged the waywardstrands back in place. “What time is it? And why’s the sun so bright here?”
The answer came with a chuckle.
“Around six. I pulled over a few hours to sleep. We made good time. I didn’t want to get here too early.” A massive yawn interrupted him. “You slept through it all.”
Inspecting my clothing came next. I swiped at the wrinkles until I found it best to stand and left the truck. Well damn, even my best wrinkle-free slacks had creases in them. I did a full circle while in the middle of the street. The neighborhood was older, the homes were smaller, and it wasn’t nearly as cold outside as Dallas.
“Beau.”
I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Linda Brooks, Beau’s mother, called from the front porch.
In just five and a half years, she’d aged at least a decade. Her vibrance was gone. The sparkle in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by worry lines etched there and at the corners of her mouth. The past had taken its toll on her pretty face. Yet her love for Beau shone through as she started down the few steps, robe on and coffee mug in hand.
The guy holding the rickety screen door open had to be Scott. He and Beau were similar in dress. What Scott and I had in common was that we both openly stared at each other. His look implied curiosity while I had a feeling mine likely mirrored Beau’s with Chandler.
Stop being silly. Scott’s generosity brought Beau to me.
I looped around the truck’s hood, flashing a grin at Beau’s mother.
“Dash, you came.” She met Beau with a side hug then bypassed him, heading my direction. “I was worried when I heard he left to find you, and now you’re here.” She enveloped me in a warm hug. “You haven’t changed a bit.” The embrace lingered as shepulled back, a curious glint in her eye. “Are you and my boy back together?”
“Mom,” Beau called sternly, but his mom and I were on a whole different wavelength.
“I’m working on it,” I said, making sure Beau caught every word. “He’s stubborn, with walls of reinforced concrete around him, but I’ve got my trusty wrecking ball.”
“Dash,” Beau warned.
“Hush, Beau,” she said, scolding her son. She looped her arm through mine as she started us up the walkway to the house. “Give him time.” Without waiting on us, Beau had gone to Scott, who was at the top step, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“I win,” he teased, genuinely happy. I didn’t know how he won, but those words were enough to dig a path straight under Beau’s skin.
“You’re way off base,” Beau scoffed, executing a heavy footed climb up the steps. The slump in his shoulders screamed defeat. I found it oddly endearing because I felt like I was involved. The truck keys exchanged hands.
“No, I’m not. It might be the most victorious win of all time. You’re finished. No other wins can ever beat this win.” Scott chuckled happily. Beau clearly had no use for anything more Scott had to say as he flipped around, trotted back down the steps, and side-swiped me and his mom in the direction of the truck’s bed. “He didn’t win.”
