5. Beau
5
BEAU
My hand finds her leg before I even think about it—smooth, bare, trembling. She’s frozen, her wide eyes locked on mine, a look of pure panic etched into her expression. It’s the kind of fear that shuts down everything except survival instincts. But she’s not moving, not doing a damn thing except staring at me. Sure, I could’ve been a little gentler in my approach, but to my credit, there’s not a lot of time for subtlety here.
The wind howls like it’s got a personal vendetta against Oak Creek, and Mother Nature is backing it up for destruction tonight.
“Get under here,” I say, my voice low and steady.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, tugging her hard. Her jean shorts slide easily over the linoleum, and I pull her next to me, settling us against the wall. The space is tight, her body pressed up against mine, but there’s no room for modesty. The table will shield us from any broken glass, but it won’t do shit if the roof caves in. Not that I think it’ll come to that.
She presses her spine against the wall, her head falling back with a thud as she exhales slowly, staring straight ahead.
“You good, Peach?” I pitch my voice over the cacophony as the siren continues to blare. A desperate call for people to hunker down.
She rolls her head to the side. Our faces are only inches apart. “My name isn’t Peach.”
My hand moves without my permission, slipping a lock of her peach-colored hair between my fingers. “What’s your name?”
Her gaze bounces around my face, pausing on my mouth for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “We’re gonna die here, aren’t we?”
I flip her hair between my fingers, marveling at how soft it feels. The way the end waves, not quite a curl. “Nah, we’ll be laughing over a plate of cheese fries in an hour.”
Her eyes widen, and somehow, I trip and fall into an endless pool of golden amber. A color that doesn’t seem real outside of nature documentaries.
I arch a brow, my lips curving into a smirk. “Don’t tell me you don’t like French fries?”
She tsks, her eyes narrowing. “Only psychopaths don’t like French fries.”
“Phew.” I exaggerate my relief, grinning. “We were almost over before we began.”
She shakes her head, her hair dancing across her cheek. “Are you always this . . . forward ?”
“Only during tornadoes.”
The side of her mouth tips up into a reluctant smile, and my heart squeezes inside my chest. It feels fucking strange, really. My heartbeat kicks up a notch, the familiar quickening I haven’t felt since I crossed the finish line on a race two years ago.
Goddamn, I haven’t felt that kind of thrill in so long; I half-thought I wasn’t ever going to feel it again. Not after I made my promise.
Fucking wild that sitting on a sticky floor, crammed underneath a table with a woman I just met in the middle of a tornado warning gives me the similar sensation.
It’s not exactly the same, but it’s fucking close.
There’s nothing like those nights spent racing through the streets of whatever nearby town. Waiting for the perfect moment, the dead zone when cops were chasing down red herrings. The higher the stakes, the calmer I felt. It was the ultimate juxtaposition.
But I gave that shit up years ago, and now, the only time I ever get close to feeling even a fraction of that euphoria is when I fuck around at The Alley.
Thunder bellows above us, louder than it was before.
“Seems like the storm’s movin’ fast. Won’t be too much longer.” I figure I’ve got maybe fifteen or twenty minutes to convince her to stay and have dinner with me when this system blows over. The feeling of being near her is too tempting. If she walks out of here, I’ll never know if it was the tornado or her that’s got my heart racing.
She fishes her phone out of a purse strapped across her chest, glances at the screen and mutters, “Fuck.”
“Now I know you’re not from around here. Everyone knows cell towers are shit out here. Just like most people know, Oak Creek operates on the excessive side of caution for the tornado warning sirens for damn near every storm in this town. It’s probably nothing. And if it isn’t, then there isn’t much we can do about that, can we? Can’t compete with Mother Nature. We’ll find out either way in about twenty minutes.”
She stares at me for a moment, her lips pursed into a frown. “If you’re trying to reassure me, you’re doing a terrible job.”
I chuckle, flipping my hat backward. “Yeah, I’ll give you that. Tell me a secret.”
“What? No. I don’t even know you.”
I drag my hand along my jaw, doing my best to curb the smirk. “That’s kind of the point. You don’t live here and neither do I. There’s no fear of running into one another at the grocery store or picking up takeout. One secret. Something that’s been dying to be set free.”
She rolls her eyes and thumps her head back against the wall, silent long enough that I think she won’t say anything. But then she sighs, swiping her tongue across her bottom lip, and I know I’ve got her.
“I wish my mother was dead.”
I don’t give her a second to freak out, to think I’m judging her. She went for broke on that secret, which means I’m gonna rise to the occasion too.
“My dad isn’t my biological father. And no one knows I know.” The weight of that fact feels a little lighter than it did five minutes ago. Like simply saying it out loud freed pieces of it.
The lights flicker and die, plunging us into darkness. Someone screams, and the people in the booth across from us start praying.
Well, how’s that for fucking timing? I just bet that someone upstairs is laughing their ass off at me right now.
“Fuck, we’re going to die,” she says on an exhale, her breath ragged.
“We’re not going to die, baby.” My voice comes out softer than I thought it would, but the words roll off my tongue anyway.
“Liar,” she breathes out, squeezing her eyes shut.
My hand finds the back of her neck, my fingers clasping lightly. “Impulsive? Sure,” I say with a shrug. “Asshole? Probably. But liar?” I pause, sucking my teeth before shaking my head. “Not even a little bit. Some might even go so far as to say I’m too honest.”
“I know what you’re doing,” she pants, the words rushing out. “You’re trying to distract me from what’s going on, from my imagination filling in the blanks from movies.” Her words tumble out, tripping over one another as they pick up speed. “And I appreciate it. I really do. But this is terrible. All of this is terrible. I’m going to leave the world with a laundry list of things I haven’t accomplished yet. A full bucket list. And the worst part is?—”
I do the only thing I can do. The only thing I know will snap her out of her head and bring her back down to Earth a little bit, bring her back to me. The only thing that feels right in the moment.
I kiss her.