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She dabbed gloss over her lips and glanced at herself in the mirror. A touch of makeup underneath her eyes concealed the dark circles, but she still looked tired.
She thought of her dad’s compliment and smiled. Pretty, but tired.
Betty had just stepped off the bottom step when she every hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A shiver rolled over her—a delightfully cool and erotic shiver—as the fresh, masculine scent that was all Beau Simon, wafted up her nostrils.
Her belly flipped over and she grabbed the railing, stunned at the reaction she had. Stunned and confused.
He wasn’t here….was he?
She peeked out the window beside the front door. “What the hell?”
An old, beat up Volkswagen Beetle—in a puke mustard shade that was the ugliest color she’d ever seen—was parked behind Gramps Crown Vic.
Okay. Her mind was playing tricks on her because there was no way in hell Beau was driving that hunk of junk. She didn’t recognize the car but assumed it must belong to a friend of her grandfather’s.
Turning on her heel, she marched toward the kitchen. “Dad, come on. We have to go or we’ll be…”
Blue eyes stared back at her. Blue eyes attached to over six feet of delicious, yummy, mouth-watering, Beau Simon.
Beau Simon wearing faded jeans, a white T-shirt with the Stones logo, and a big fat pair of lips across the chest.
“Late,” she managed to say.
Her heart took off, so fast and hard that she felt it pounding in her ears. She drew in a shaky breath and took a moment, staring across the room at Beau.
“Nice wheels,” she said, once she recovered.
“Thanks,” he replied with a slow grin that made her toes curl.
“Felt like slumming it?”
“No, more like traveling incognito.”
“Where’d you pick up that piece of vintage machinery?”
“Belongs to the maid.”
“You’re weird.”
“I know.”
“Huh,” she said, trying not to grin back at him. But it was hard. The lightness inside her was catchy. If she wasn’t careful, it would spread and then she’d be in real trouble. There’d be no way to hide her feelings and those damn feelings were pretty inconvenient right about now.
“Betty, don’t be rude to our guest,” her father admonished. “This here is Mr. Beau Simon.”
“I don’t know about the Mister, but he’s a Simon alright.”
“That I am,” Beau replied. His long blond hair was slicked back, that wide grin still in place, and the blond stubble that was sexy as hell darkened his chin.
“We’re just heading out, so...I’m not sure why you’re here.”
“That’s fine. I can wait. Your father filled me in.”
“That’s right, Bets,” Trent said. “Told him we were on our way to visit my grandson.”
Betty glanced at her father. “We have to go now, Dad, or we might miss out on seeing Abel.”
“Okay, girlie. You don’t have to be so bossy.” Trent shuffled forward. “You coming Mr. Beau Simon?”
