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“Yeah, we’re good,” I said far too loudly in the silence that fell around us.
Raleigh shifted on her toes and looked up at Nate. He watched me through narrowed eyes. “He’s a lot. But he does have a heart, Sylvie. Tell me if I need to fuck him up. I’m good for it.”
I snorted. “Thanks, Nate, but he’d kill you.”
Raleigh winced. All of us had been in the room when we all realised that not only was Beau a killer, but that it likely wasn’t his first merry go round because he was utterly remorseless. Ruthless.
“Uh, choice of words...” I edged for the door. “Thanks for the offer.”
Nate nodded and watched me go, his mouth set in a hard line. I made my escape, darting for the stairs in case he changed his mind about leaving me alone and making another attempt to ferret information out of me. I knew he meant well, and that he and Beau were close but...that didn’t mean he should be asking me. He could pester his housemate.
By the time I was halfway across campus and missed the setting sun, walking in that dusky air that’s silver and grey and purple and damn hard to see through, I finished ranting in my head enough to wonder what Beau had up his sleeve for tonight. One of the reasons for my pacing was because he told me to come casual. I figured that meant no clothes later in the piece but something in his soft tone and tender looks drew my heart into my throat.
You’re imagining it. All of it.
He’s in love with you.
Nope. Couldn’t be. Nada. Beau Bennett didn’t have a heart that would let a mere mortal in.
And I couldn't lie to myself more.
The house seemed deserted when I rocked up ten minutes after the time Beau gave me. I’d rather risk his–considerable–wrath than walk in while he was still hosting boy time. I was sure his meeting was more than that but still, some petty part of me saw these big strapping boys as giant boy scouts.
I crept up the desert stairs, feeling like the blonde bimbo in a haunted house creeper flick, and pushed open his door.
Beau stood with his back to me, looking out the window.
I sighed my relief. “Thank God you’re here. I swore I stepped into the twilight zone...” I paused as he began to turn.
Something about his silhouette was off.
Maybe his hair was flat, or looked shorter than this morning. Or he slouched. But as he turned in full, I realised it wasn’t the out of character charming smile, or the red shirt he wore.
It was the eyes.
The same dark, smoldering midnight blue, but instead of cold, hard and assessing with an overdose of sexy only a god could compete with, these eyes were just cold.
And cruel.
“You’re not Beau,” I said, my brain and mouth finally connecting for the message to get through.
Brandon smiled. A horrible, toothy grin that promised bad, bad things.
Bad things without the filthy. Or the sexy.
Or the tenderness he gave me afterward.
Nope, this was just really fucking bad.
I edged backward.
“No, I’m not Beau,” he said.
And smiled worse than before.
