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“Beau. You’re missing a major piece here. If you don’t teach, you can’t coach. Unless you want to do both for free,” I say. “They do not have the budget for another staff member.”
“I know that. Which is why I got someone else to teach instead of me. And I’ll be coaching for free.”
Despite the pain in my gut, I sit up, wincing. “You can’t do that,” I say.
He shrugs. “Sure I can. I said I needed a backup plan. I need to work and not be idle, and I can’t live the life of a retired athlete by making appearances and doing the usual celebrity shit. I didn’t say I wanted to get paid for it.”
Because I’m nothing if not an argumentative little shit, I have to make sure he understands. “This has to be unethical, somehow.”
Beau lifts one shoulder. “Maybe. Fuck it.”
I study his face for the first time in too long. My gut was wrong about him in high school, assuming he was nothing but a goof-off. My instinct was wrong when we met again months ago. And I was wrong on Monday when I chewed his ass out. It’s not that he’s unserious. He just didn’t realize he had taken on too much and needed to make a choice.
If we’re going to be together, I have to be okay with the fact that his obscene amounts of money help a lot when decisions have to be made. And, I suspect I will have to get comfortable real quick with him paying for things.
Looking into his eyes, I know that’s what’s supposed to happen.
“I agree,” I say, resting my hand on his. “Fuck it. I love you, Beau.”
That massive chest heaves. “Shit,” he rasps. “I wasn’t prepared for that.”
“Then get ready. Because you’re going to hear it a lot.”
He leans in to kiss me, then stops himself. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
“If you don’t kiss me right now, I’m breaking up with you again,” I tease.
He laughs and fits his lips against mine in a kiss of love, with so much yearning in it that I want to give him more. I want to give him everything.
“I wish I could take your cramps away,” he says.
I find it sweet that he doesn’t wish I wasn’t on my period so he would feel more comfortable, and my heart squeezes.
“You know what helps with period cramps?”
“What?” Beau asks, genuinely curious. So eager. So good to me. I’m never going to take this for granted.
“Orgasms,” I say.
Beau gives me that look that tells me I just planted a super sexy idea in his head, then presses another soft kiss to my lips. He gets up, locks the bedroom door just in case, then spoons up behind me in the bed.
His big, rough hand snakes down the front of my pajama pants, and I set the heating pad aside.
When he settles his thick finger between my folds and begins massaging my clit, pleasure surges through me.
My Beau is too pure, so eager to please. Unafraid and unfazed. Always ready for action. All the time.
He lives to make people happy.
And I’d be an idiot not to welcome that about him.
Epilogue
Mary
It's been about two months since I was laid up with cramps that day, but when it comes to spoiling me, Beau is not even close to done.
My fridge and cabinets were choked with so much Gatorade, ginger ale, takeout food, and snacks that I didn't have to lift a finger to feed Micah and his friends for several weeks.
