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“What?” she asked roughly, not liking where she thought this might go.
“Beau says he’s here to talk to you.”
“Did he.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yep. How well do you know him?”
Betty glanced up sharply.
“Whoa! I’m not asking if you…if you and him…Ah, hell.” Duke’s face went beet red and if Betty wasn’t so pissed off and tired, she might have found the situation funny.
“I’m just asking a question…do you know him or not?”
That pain in her head began to radiate again and Betty wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, swearing when a drop of lime juice fell into her eye. Was Duke really going there with her?
“What do you want, Duke?” she asked tiredly.
“I’m just thinking that if Beau Simon agreed to participate in our celebrity ball tournament, well, that could be a big help to the bottom line for Hunter Adams.”
“Hunter Adams?” she said dully, hating that he’d pulled out the big guns. Hating that there was still a place inside her that cared about something or someone other than herself.
Which was kind of ironic, but she wasn’t going to dwell on it too much.
“The four year old whose bone marrow transplant we’re helping to fund.”
She thought of the flyers posted around town and felt something inside her crack. The knot at the back of her throat loosened and she was afraid she’d start to bawl like a baby. Since when had Betty become such an emotional sap?
“You alright?” Duke asked gruffly.
“Yeah. It’s the lime juice.”
It was bullshit and he knew it.
She squeezed her eyes shut and wiped them once again with the back of her hand. Hunter Adams had big brown eyes and a cherub face that would melt an iceberg. He was the only reason she’d agreed to appear in the tournament. Duke still would have hired her to work at The Grill. He wasn’t stupid.
But, contrary to what most folks thought, she hated eyes on her. Hated the focus. The attention.
She hated the way most men looked at her, with predatory eyes.
It was going to be hard for her. This tournament.
“Will you ask him? Work your charm?” Duke enquired gently.
Betty’s eyes flew open and she tossed the knife onto the wooden cutting block. Turning to the sink she began to wash them under a cold stream of water. “I’m not sleeping with Beau Simon.”
“I…I never said anything….shit, Betty, I would never…” Duke took a step back, his red face mortified.
“Just saying,” she answered, as she moved past him and headed out into the bar.
Betty Jo Barker hated Beau Simon.
She hated his good looks. The spoon that he’d been born with. She hated the fact that he could do no wrong. That Marianne Phibbs would spend over one hundred dollars on a dress because she thought Beau Simon would like it.
Most of all she hated the way he made her feel. The conflicting emotions. The hurt. The anger. And she couldn’t lie. The des
ire.
There were some things she couldn’t forget and some things she shouldn’t remember.
