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“I’ve been reading a lot of erotic romance,” she admitted. “I’ve got a lot of ideas of things I want to try.”
He gave a happy groan as his hands settled on her ass and he felt his cock stirring. “I’m the one who’s going to be sore tomorrow, I’m thinking.”
She lifted her head and grinned. “Maybe.”
He squeezed her. “Bring it on.”
five
The sightof Becca Bollier riding him cowgirl was the hottest thing Beau had ever seen. Flipping her to her back and pounding into her good-old missionary style was pretty fucking great too.
And he was sure taking her on all fours would have been heaven.
But he fell asleep.
And then his phone rang before he could wake up and get her going for round four. Or five. Or whatever they were on.
He fumbled in the dark, feeling for his jeans on the floor next to the bed, and finally pulling his phone from a pocket. “What?”
He hadn’t even looked to see who was calling.
“Beau. Oh my God. There’s water everywhere.”
“Mom?” He propped up on one elbow and blinked. The room was almost black except for slivers of light coming through the blinds. “What’s going on?”
“A pipe burst on the second floor! There’s water everywhere! I don’t know what to do.”
What? No.No, no, no.
He shoved himself up to sitting and scrubbed a hand over his face. He pulled the phone away from his face. Two a.m.
Fuck, he hadn’t even been asleep for an hour.
“Have you shut the water off?” he asked.
“I… no. One of the guests just woke me. I went out to your cabin but forgot you were gone. I don’t—”
“Mom,” Beau broke in firmly. “You need to shut the water off. Then you need to call Mitch and Zeke. I’m on my way.”
Mitch and Zeke were cousins to his cousins. They were basically family. As was everyone else in Autre, especially those with the last name Landry. But more importantly, Mitch and Zeke did construction and knew their way around plumbing. They could at least provide emergency assistance. And calm Heather down until Beau could get there.
Butmotherfucker. Water damage. That was the worst. What the fuck had happened?
“I didn’t know who else to call when you weren’t here,” Heather said.
He knew that. It was the middle of the night, for one thing. For another…he was always there. Or always had been. Until Becca.
Fuck.
“I know. It’s okay. I’m heading back.”
But it was five hours. He wouldn’t be there before the sun came up. “Are the guest rooms okay?” he asked.
“The ones upstairs are. Three of them downstairs are not.” Heather’s voice was shaky.
“Okay, get them up to the motel,” he said.
The B and B would have to pay for those rooms. The motel would work with them, of course. Thankfully in a town like Autre, the motel and Bed and Breakfast didn’t consider one another competition. Which was probably strange, but it was true. There was enough business for all of them.
