14. Ten
Ten
Jake
F allon: I’m good, baby. If you’re worried. Are you good?
I dropped Fallon off last night after the party, tucking her into bed and holding her until she fell asleep. Then I quietly slipped out like a coward, afraid shit would be weird this morning.
My sneaking away made it weird, not what we’d done. I rarely slept at my house during the renovation. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I returned a text.
Me: I’m always good when I wake up smelling like you. Can I see you today? I promise not to go wild.
Me: *To try not to go wild.
Like a damn Neanderthal, I dragged Fallon off to fuck her in the woods, my body thrumming with urgency to sink inside her warm, wet cunt and pound her until she forgot every explicit thing Beau had done to her. Reclaiming her.
“Beast,” I murmured, kneading the heels of my palms against my eyes and puffing a long exhale.
All reasonable thought poured from my head faster than my feet could carry us into the shadows—a primal and craving urge took over.
I needed to have her. Nothing else mattered at that moment. Not the party or getting caught by friends. Nothing existed in the world except my girl, making her come, and having her with breathtaking demand. Nothing.
Not even the shadow that lingered off to the side. The one I noticed as I adjusted my belt and glanced up with the eerie sense of eyes on the back of my neck.
How long had Beau been standing there? The darkness hid his face, but the flood of backlights outlined his silhouette. He was easily recognizable, thanks to the contours of his solid frame.
Busy fixing herself to look less freshly fucked, Fallon cooed her delight with the impromptu romp. But I stared at that imposing shadow until Beau’s head dropped, and he shuffled off.
I bet he’d be delighted to learn he’d been a topic of conversation during sex. Simple fascination, nothing to flatter himself over.
He probably jerked off over it. Not that I could blame him. I’d done the same. My fist gripped my dick as soon as I woke up and pumped until I cursed a release so hard that I nearly shot over my head.
Last night was hot. Scalding. Burned me alive.
But I hated that thinking of Beau with my girl made me feral. I didn’t want to be so into it. I didn’t want my balls to fill with heat and lust and my cock to throb at the image of Fallon with someone else.
Pride and jealousy tangled with the thought of how much another man wanted my girl, my hands on her, proving she was my girl .
“New kink unlocked,” I muttered, kicking my legs out from the sheets and laying sprawled on the bed as I stared at the ceiling.
Plenty of guys got off on that kind of shit. I mean, fuck. With the way Fallon came apart… Worked for us both.
Great. I loved making my girl come until she went comatose. Whatever got her there. Words were words. My girl liked fun. My girl liked sex.
But my girl loved me .
It wasn’t lost on me that I’d once been the one stumbling upon an intimate moment in the woods not meant for me. On a night when I headed to grab a beer and somehow ended up following the path Beau and Trevor had disappeared down .
I wasn’t spying, not exactly. More curious. Trevor was a shitbag, always had been. He found his way into trouble, never staying there long because his family had money and influence. I learned that well enough when he fucked over Adam our senior year and got him arrested.
Adam, ever the hero, blamed himself for being stupid. Not me, though. Trevor took advantage of Adam, just like he’d take advantage of anyone trusting.
And Beau? The idiot was like a puppy.
At first, I thought I’d find them doing drugs or some illicit shit. Maybe bust it up and gloat as I held the threat of tattling over Beau’s head. I’d been in a lousy mood, and watching someone else suffer for a while might have felt satisfying.
But that’s not what I saw.
“How strange,” Jim said, his hand tracing his jaw as he stared at the saw where Beau stood clutching two pieces of wood. “I swear I told you to cut two inches.”
Beau’s knuckles turned white, his grip tight. “Nope, Jim. You said four inches. I spent forty-five minutes working through the stack to cut four inches.”
Patrick Mulligan stood to the side, shaking his head as he gestured to Jim. “Nah. He said two.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tucking one between his lips.
The older guys hadn’t dropped the hazing, using any opportunity to mess with Beau and piss him off for no reason other than they could.
The younger crew mostly kept to themselves, more interested in a paycheck than posturing, but enough dinosaurs roamed the plains to make Beau’s day miserable.
Once Beau got the hang of things, he was pretty decent on-site. He was strong, never complained, and followed directions.
“I can’t do shit with shorter cuts.” Jim gave a heavy sigh.
Despite my recommendation to tell them to piss off, Beau wouldn’t. But whatever. Not my shadow, not my problem.
“Guess so,” Beau mumbled, throwing the wood into the pile with the wasted planks. “Looks like I’ll stay late tonight.”
Jim dipped his chin. “You gotta tell Palmer, too. I’m not dealing with his wrath from another one of your screw ups.”
Beau’s jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. “Yep.”
Stay out of it. Not your problem .
Jim couldn’t shut the fuck up. “I hope you can figure out the difference between two and four inches unsupervised, because I’m out at five and at the bar by five thirty.”
Nope, not your—
“Easy, Beau,” I interrupted, gesturing to Jim. “His dick is two inches. Patrick’s is four. I know it can be confusing when working in such small measurements.”
Jim opened his mouth to say something I couldn’t hear over the wail of the saw.
The humor in Beau’s eyes mixed with relief, making me feel a little better about intervening—just a little. I still couldn’t stand the guy, but I’d avoided him all week since the bonfire. Or maybe he’d been avoiding me. Unclear, but it made no difference when I didn’t care.
Goddamn Beau Dalton. Forcing my hand when all I wanted to do was go about my day, earn my pay, and leave it all behind when I pulled out of that lot.
I didn’t want to confront coworkers or babysit pranks or defend a guy who pissed me off constantly. Even when he did nothing involving me, Beau found a way to infiltrate my peace.
I managed to work through my tasks and help Beau finish cutting new planks before the end of the day, my back aching something fierce and my patience thinning—long ass day.
“Thanks,” Beau said quietly, tossing his hard hat into the backseat of his car as I headed toward my truck. “I didn’t want to be here all night.”
His eyes followed a group of guys laughing and slapping backs as they trudged to their cars. They’d reconvene at The Pub shortly, downing pints and talking shit.
I used to join when I first started, building rapport to throw down insults and toss around my weight. It’d been a while since I showed up. Not a fan of peopling.
“They hate me, and I can’t figure out why.” Beau glanced at me with a shy smile before kicking at the ground. “Aside from fucking up, anyway.”
He looked pathetic enough that I stopped and leaned against the hood of his car.
“They’re giving you a big assist on those fuck ups,” I mumbled, squinting into the sun setting behind the mountains. I admired that he continued to show up daily despite the torment.
As if he could sense my positive regard, Beau ran his hands through his hair and gave a pompous grin.
“It’s hard being so pretty, you know? Oh.” He frowned, biting his lip. “No, you don’t know. Shit. I’m sorry, that was rather rude of me.”
I snickered, staring at the ground and pushing off from the car. “Piss off.”
I worried he’d chase me down, but he stayed put, laughter lilting. “Best friend, don’t go. We can’t all look this good.”
I swear to god, I could feel the tension in his pause.
“Some of us belong in the shadows.”
He was testing me. Did I see him as he watched me rail my girl against that tree? Yeah, I fucking did. I wasn’t too happy about it.
I wasn’t necessarily unhappy about it, either.
Clearing his throat, Beau nodded toward my truck. “You twisted my ankle, asshole. Not rolling around in that ugly orange gas-guzzler Camaro these days? ”
Dick. My grandpa’s Camaro was a beauty. I spent years fixing her up, tenderly caring for her, and learning my way around an engine until I could do my truck myself, too.
It hurt to part with her a few months ago, but I needed the money to repair my house once I cut ties with Boymer Towing.
“Sold it,” I said roughly. Loved that goddamn car, but Fallon and I couldn’t exactly live in it. Comfortably. “Your dad helped facilitate the sale.”
Not all Daltons were incorrigible.
“My dad?” Beau blinked. “Really?”
I kept on, calling over my shoulder, “Join us at The Pub if you’re free. It helps with fitting in.”
Fuck me for it, but I texted Fallon to let her know my plans had changed.
“No goddamn way!” Danny shouted, his palm slamming the table and rattling the empty pint glasses. “I call bullshit on that one.”
“Settle down!” Rena hollered from behind the bar.
Danny winked at Rena, and she shook her head and pointed to the sign over her shoulder. No dogs allowed.
Never enforced, else they’d have to remove the surly bunch of animals causing a scene in the corner.
“Yep,” Beau said, tossing a cardboard coaster at Danny’s forehead. Tipsy, Danny failed to swat it away before it hit him.
“Swear to god. Saw it with my own eyes. Walked into the trailer one afternoon and couldn’t believe it.”
The guys grumbled after Beau revealed that an old Hollywood icon enjoyed donning women’s lingerie beneath his tailored trousers.
“Had the buns for it, though,” Beau added thoughtfully. “People often neglect their glutes, and age sneaks up on you. It can really make a difference in a lacy thong. You might want to keep that in mind, Danny.”
A roar of laughter circled the table, hoots and howls as the guys begged Beau for more stories and offered to buy him another round. They’d already gotten his first two.
I got up to shoot darts as Beau waved his hand and declined more drinks. I heard the glee in his voice. The fucker loved attention, and when the center of it, he put on a show.
“You were right about them,” Beau said from over my shoulder. I paused mid-throw and spun to look at him.
He gestured to it. “I’d appreciate it if you kept the sharp end pointed that way when I’m speaking.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
Beau rolled his eyes, pulling out a stool at the table next to me. “Ever consider dropping the tough guy act?”
The slow smile on his face made me ready to launch the dart right between his perfectly tweezed eyebrows.
“You’ve been a work fairy godmother, Jake. Flex all you like, but I told you, besties by the end of the week.”
I gave him an impassive stare. “You’ve been here three weeks.”
“I never specified which week.” He flashed a grin, one Fallon probably thought was charming. Magnetic or some shit like that.
“Such a dumbass,” I snickered, launching the dart toward the board and missing spectacularly. Not at all my game, darts.
Beau practically cackled.
“Fuck off, Dalton,” I grumbled, grabbing my beer and stalking away.
Beau hopped off the stool and followed. “You’re pretty unapproachable, you know that?”
“Yet you’re here,” I pointed out.
His fingers wrapped around my elbow, tugging. “Just wanted to say thank you, and…” He puffed a breath, squeezing gently before dropping his hand.“Thank you. You didn’t have to help me, and even though it was probably Fallon’s influence, I appreciate the gesture.”
The guys got up from the table, lumbering toward the door and shoving to get out as they insulted and taunted one another. They’d pick back up early in the morning, a stagnant and depressing routine some of those guys had carried for decades.
I prayed that wouldn’t be me. Not that being on a tug was an improvement, but I spent a lot of time reading on the boat, at least. I didn’t need much beyond a paycheck, but I’d like to enjoy what I was doing someday.
“You must need the work, huh?” I scratched my neck, avoiding the softness in his eyes as he stared at me, absent of that smarmy overconfidence. “Why tolerate it at all otherwise?”
For a guy with all that Hollywood chatter, working construction during an impromptu trip home seemed off. When I pointed that out to Fallon, she brushed it aside as Beau’s flighty nature and need to entertain himself.
I caught the subtle shift in his face, the lines going tight. “Yeah,” he mumbled, dropping his head. “Been real hard up, to be honest.”
I leaned away, something shifting my gut with his words. Ignoring it, I sipped my beer and looked anywhere other than him.
With a hushed voice, he pressed closer. “Can I share a secret, bestie?”
“Jesus Christ,” I groaned into my pint glass. “What?”
He glanced around like anyone gave a shit. Even standing immediately next to him, I didn’t give a shit.
As if Beau could tell, he sighed. “Never mind.”
“Okay.” I finished my beer, considering another, but starting work so early left me wiped out by dinner time. “I’m not a fan of secrets, let alone yours.”
Beau sighed again, drumming his fingers over the bar top. “I get it.”
We stood silently. Beau’s attention drifted around the tavern, and mine stewed on how dumb it was for him to consider sharing secrets with his rival—a man he tormented, trailed, and bugged for years—and still doing it!
What possibly made him think I’d want to hear his secrets? That he could trust me with them? It had to be pretty dire to release that information to me.
Pathetic.
And mildly intriguing.
I should have dropped it.
“Don’t you have an actual best friend?”
The grin on his face told me it delighted him I asked.
“Jason!” He sighed affectionately, leaning against the bar like he’d be getting comfortable and staying. “Yeah, he’s my real best friend. No offense, bestie.”
Rubbing my temples with enough force to crush my skull, I ground out, “No offense could be taken from that.”
Beau slugged my arm playfully. “You’re a big tease, you know that?”
“If you have a proper best friend, why are you still hovering?”
Beau pulled out a stool and patted it, gesturing for me to take a seat. I continued standing propped against the wood and shook my head. He shrugged and took the seat himself.
“I’m not hovering. I’m hanging,” he corrected. Another heavy sigh. “I can’t tell Jason all of my secrets, BFF.”
“I’m not your— ”
“Beau’s Friend Forever,” he jumped in.
Despite myself, I barked a laugh. Such a fucking fool, this guy. I pulled out a stool and sat down, signaling for Rena to bring more beer.
“Why can’t you tell Jason your secrets?” I thanked Rena when she slid over our pints.
Beau looked as if he might cry into his. “He’s boning my sister, and that means I don’t trust him to hold steady when she tortures him for information. Love the guy, and my sister can be savage. Jason’s not safe. I won’t put him at risk like that.”
“Kate? She’s not savage.” Fallon loved her, and I remembered Beau’s sister as being awkward, but she always seemed nice enough.
“Impossible to understand her brutality, Jake. I get it. You think girls are so sweet, but that’s only because you don’t have a sister—”
“I have a sister.” I took a long drink, wiping my mouth with my hand.
“What?” Beau cocked his head, squinting like he’d missed something. “Since when?”
Not my favorite topic of conversation, rarely discussed outside of Fallon or Adam. I had no desire to add Beau to that mix.
He nudged my shoulder, his smooth arm brushing against mine. Did the fucker shave his arms? “Come on. Talk to me. We’re bros.”
“We’re not bros.”
“Okay. Well, we’re at least close pals. Confidants. Bosom buddies. You’re my sidekick—”
“My sister is thirteen. Claire.” I cut him off, reasonably sure Beau pestered as a means of torture to get what he wanted. That golden smile hid his sinister intentions.
“My mom took off when I turned fifteen. Met a guy, decided she was done with my dad and me, and started over. She showed up again before I graduated with a half-sister to introduce.”
Beau’s mouth twisted into an O. “What happened?”
His hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. I glanced at where he touched me, then looked away.
I’d shoved a pile of cash into my mom’s hand. Not a fortune, about two hundred bucks, but it was every cent I’d saved to rent a tux and take Fallon to prom after a fancy dinner out. My mom left town again with that money, catching a bus to Spokane to crash with a friend. Decidedly done with me again.
Fallon made no complaints when I couldn’t even buy tickets to that dance. Showed up that night in a pretty dress with a purse stuffed with candy.
She dragged me to the empty lot outside the rock quarry, blasted music from my truck stereo, and we danced until her curfew. I’d always loved her, but that night solidified just how much.Fallon was the only family I had.
“My mom made it to a friend’s place, got herself set up, and figured it out,” I answered. “I see them a couple of times a year.”
I still sent them money to help, but that felt too vulnerable to share.
“But to your point, I know how sisters can be. Guaranteed, my thirteen-year-old one is a bigger terror than your adult sister.”
Beau hummed. His lips parted as he started to say something, but I beat him to it.
“Hypothetically, if you had a secret and I were your best friend, which, full fucking disclosure, I’m not .”
Beau split into an ear-to-ear grin and whispered, “Called it.”
He flashed his palms like jazz hands. “Okay, the truth—”
I slammed my hands over my ears. “Not until you acknowledge what I just said.”
He groaned, his brows pinching. “Shit. Really?” he whined. When I nodded, he gave in. “Fine. You’re not my best friend.” Under his breath, he mumbled a very quiet, “Yet.”
This is what I get for putting in effort.
“I’m painfully broke,” Beau began, staring at his hands as he twirled his pint glass between them. He wouldn’t meet my eye, even when my attention perked up.
“I’m painfully unemployable. I’m… in pain.” His hand rubbed over his shoulder as he rolled it with a wince. “I’m homeless, and the job that was supposed to revive my pathetic career fell through with this strike. I learned last week the director pushed production eighteen months out, which means the original stunting actor will be available for the gig again. I’m no longer needed.”
“Damn, Dalton.”
He nodded. “It gets worse.”
How?
“I’ve exaggerated, if not flat out lied, about how well things have been going in L.A. for the last two years. My parents think I’m a superstar. My sister even told me she was proud of me. They think I have a house in the hills with a pool. I’ve never been in a room with Chris Hemsworth, let alone a distant relative of his.
“I hoped working for Palmer would hold me over until the strike ended, but with a pushed production, it makes no difference if the strike ends tomorrow or next year. To me, anyway.”
I thought he was done, but nope.
“Aside from a small storage unit, I have nothing in L.A. Most of my belongings are in my trunk, and I’m too proud to bring them into my parents’ house for fear they’ll ask why I’m moving boxes back. I’ve been terrified someone will steal my car and discover my secret.”
Oof.
“Nobody takes me seriously,” he continued. “My life is a mess, and I can never get it sorted, no matter how optimistic I try to be. Everything is conditional, and it feels like I’m not allowed to exist anywhere because I have nothing worthwhile to give. ”
He took a deep breath, deflating on the exhale.
“As proven by the fact I’m sharing this with you , I’m embarrassingly lonely, even when surrounded by people, because it’s easier to flash a smile than take a chance on something because, again, nobody takes me seriously . And why would they? What do I have to offer other than a few laughs and a fantastic dick?”
Took all my effort not to laugh—because I think he was serious.
Beau sighed, resting his chin on his fist. “Thank god I charmed the crew because I can’t even afford this beer that I hope you’re paying for. Otherwise, tell me now so I can run out of here before Rena catches on.”
Good lord.
“I’ll buy your beer, Beau.”
“I’ll get yours after payday.”
I bit back the urge to call him a presumptuous prick for suggesting I’d ever get another pint with him. But I probably would.
“Best friend,” he hissed through his teeth, collapsing his head in his hands. “What am I going to do?”
“I’m not your best friend.”
He grinned like he forgot the heap of shit he had dumped at my feet. “Okay. Platonic soul mates.”
“Get fucked,” I grumbled into my beer.
With a solemn nod, he said, “Life’s been fucking me plenty.”