26. Beau
26
BEAU
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Hawke grunts next to me, his attention locked in the same direction as mine, where Eloise stands across the coffee shop with another woman.
“It’s her,” he says, amusement bouncing around in his tone.
I take a breath, forcing my gaze away from the person who’s been living rent-free in my head for months now. It’s not easy.
The day had already been a mess. I took my Hellcat to Reapers’ Garage, hoping Jagger could give it a quick once-over. My sister’s boyfriend is one of the best mechanics around. But, naturally, Jagger decided today was the perfect day to play hooky, leaving me scrambling. Graham said the next race is tomorrow, which means I need the Hellcat tuned and ready now.
Enter Hawke.
He’s one of Jagger’s best friends and a Reaper through and through, but apparently, the guy knows his way around a car. He agreed to bump my Hellcat to the top of the list if I bought him a caramel macchiato and hung out while he worked. Easy enough, if a bit odd. Coffee dates with a Reaper mechanic weren’t on my to-do list today, but here we are.
Sure, he’s a little over the top and he’ll flirt with a fucking table if the mood strikes, but he’s not nearly as bad as I thought he’d be. Fuck it, I’ll drink a coffee with the guy if it means getting the Hellcat priority work.
Still, all that fades to the background when Eloise turns away from me. Her hand wraps around the other girl’s wrist, hissing something under her breath. Her hair swings forward, masking her expression. But I’d recognize that color anywhere.
Gone is the old-money blonde. Now, her hair’s the color of fresh, ripe peaches. My mouth quirks up in a grin, and my feet are moving before I give them permission.
“Oh hell yeah,” Hawke mumbles behind me, his voice low but gleeful.
“Peach,” I call out, two tables away. Let’s see her try to ignore me now.
She tilts her head toward the ceiling, like she’s praying for patience or something. I’m choosing not to take it personally. Nothing can get me down today. This little coffee run made my day.
I had this wild idea the other night, that since we kept organically running into each other, we should continue to do it. Like fate intended.
I made myself swallow every request to get her number at the block party, and even though I know I could text Jess and get it from the Gauntlet entry, I didn’t.
I feel a little vindicated seeing her in a coffee shop in Rosewood on a weekday morning.
“Fucking kismet,” I mutter, my grin growing too wide on my face.
The other girl elbows Eloise, whispering loudly, “Bro, there are two dudes just staring at you right now. Like, staring.”
“Margot,” Eloise hisses, not even glancing my way.
I close the gap between us, dropping my voice low. “Ah, c’mon, Peach. Don’t tell me you forgot about me already. I’d be happy to jog your memory if you need it.”
Margot gasps, her eyes going wide. Then she whirls on Eloise, smacking her arm with the back of her hand. “I knew it! You’ve been holding out on me!”
Eloise exhales sharply, her shoulders rising and falling in a heavy sigh before she finally turns to face me. Her expression is carefully neutral, but her eyes betray her—just a flicker of recognition, maybe even something softer.
“There she is,” I say, letting my gaze roam over her shamelessly. Peach hair, dark lashes framing those gold-honey eyes, and that mouth. God, that mouth. I look my fill and then some.
Will I ever stop feeling so goddamn greedy for her?
“Beau,” she says flatly, her voice sharp like she didn’t beg me to make her come two days ago.
“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Hawke says, sidling up next to me with a cocky grin.
“Oh God, not you,” Margot groans, rearing back a little.
Hawke is the most unbothered person I’ve ever met in my life. People think I’m easy-going, but Hawke makes me look like a type A.
He grins at her, rocking back on his heels. “Race girl.”
“Race Girl?” she echoes, one brow arching high. “Is that really the best you’ve got?”
“Wait, how do you two know each other?” Eloise asks, gesturing between them with her iced coffee.
“We don’t,” Margot says dismissively, her tone clipped.
“It was love at first sight,” Hawke answers at the same time.
There’s a beat of silence. Me staring at Eloise, grinning like a goddamn fool. Eloise staring at Margot, brows furrowed. Margot glaring at Hawke, lips twisting into a scowl. And Hawke grinning at everyone, whistling under his breath like he just opened a fucking present.
Margot looks away first, muttering, “It’s unimportant.”
Hawke shrugs. “I think it’s very important.”
Margot frowns at him before turning back to Eloise. “What’s important is how you know my sister.” She points an accusatory finger at me.
“What race?” Eloise asks, her attention locked on Margot.
I don’t love the way she’s brushing me off, like I’m some secondary character in this little scene. It makes me restless, an itch under my skin that I don’t quite know how to scratch.
“The pre-qualifier at The Alley,” Margot says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“I don’t remember that.” Eloise’s brows pinch together as she bites her bottom lip. “Where was I?”
The dots connect, and a laugh rumbles out of me as I glance between them. “So . . . your sister, huh?”
That does it. Eloise’s gaze snaps back to mine, sharp as a knife.
“There she is.” I take two steps closer, my fingers finding the ends of her hair. The strands are soft, silky between my fingertips. “Is this for me?”
Her eyes blaze, but she doesn’t move away. “It’s for me,” she bites out.
“Good.”
Her brows twitch, pulling together like she doesn’t know what to do with me. She takes a slow sip of her coffee, her throat bobbing as she swallows.
Margot clears her throat loudly, breaking the tension. “Alright, Romeo. This is cute and all, but maybe back off before my sister decks you.”
Eloise rolls her eyes, and I have to fight the urge to kiss her sass right out of her.
Hawke chuckles, rocking back on his heels. “Feisty. I like her.”
Margot whirls on him, pointing a finger. “Not a chance, dude. Stay in your lane.”
I shake my head, a grin tugging at my lips as Eloise mutters something under her breath. It’s chaos, and I can’t get enough of it.
“Peach,” I murmur, leaning in close. “You’re gonna have to stop pretending you don’t like me. It’s not very convincing.”
Her lips twitch, the barest hint of a smirk, and she tilts her head, studying me with those piercing eyes before she pushes past me, dragging Margot along with her.
Hawke claps a hand on my shoulder, his laughter echoing in the small shop. “You’re in deep, man.”
I glance at the door as it swings shut behind her, my chest tight with something I can’t quite name. Yeah, I’m in deep. But for Eloise Hawthorne? I’d go deeper.
The text comes in that night. Twenty-four hours ahead of the race.
Unknown Number: 34.987654, -111.123456. 9PM. Don’t be late.
My phone vibrates once more in my hand, but this time it’s Graham. Ignoring it, I sink down onto the edge of my bed, the glow of the screen illuminating the coordinates.
The Gauntlet always uses this cryptic shit. Just enough information to get you where you need to go, nothing more. No details, no reassurance. You either show up ready to race or you don’t.
I swipe open a private browser and type the coordinates into the search bar. The map loads sluggishly, teasing me with its spinning wheel, until finally the location appears. My stomach twists into a familiar knot of excitement.
Zooming in and switching to the street view, I get a better look at the starting location. Where they hand out the GPS devices the coalition uses to track every driver.
But I wouldn’t be surprised if the actual race takes place there.
My heart beats faster as I study the map, zooming out to take in the surrounding area. Echo Ridge. I’ve never raced there before, but I’ve heard stories.
Five hours from Avalon Falls, it’s a ghost town, or close to it. Once a bustling industrial town, most of the businesses dried up years ago, leaving behind a patchwork of abandoned warehouses and crumbling infrastructure. The kind of place where no one asks questions if they hear engines revving in the night.
The perfect spot for an illegal street race. Isolated, plenty of winding roads and straightaways. Enough obstacles to keep things interesting.
My mind races as I scan the map, already plotting potential routes and strategies. The Gauntlet is all about adapting on the fly, using your instincts and skills to outmaneuver the competition. But a little advanced recon never hurt anyone.
I zoom in on one particular stretch of road, a long straightaway flanked by dilapidated warehouses on either side. If I had to guess, that’s where they’ll stage the main event. Plenty of room for the crowd to gather, to place their bets and watch the carnage unfold.
The thought sends a thrill down my spine, electric and addicting. It’s been too long since I felt that rush, that heady mix of danger and adrenaline that comes with pushing myself and my car to the absolute limit.
Out there on the road, nothing else matters. Not the bullshit of daily life, not the tangled web of family secrets. Just me, my car, and the thrill of the race.
My phone vibrates again, Graham's name flashing insistently on the screen. With a sigh, I swipe to answer.
“Yeah?”
“You get the text?” His voice is quiet, measured.
“Yeah, I got it,” I reply, dragging my hand through my hair. “Echo Ridge. Tomorrow.”
There’s a pause, and I can practically hear the gears turning in Graham’s head. “You sure you want to do this?”
“I’m in it now, aren’t I?”
“You don’t owe them shit, man. If you want out, just say the word. I’ll get you out.” He pauses. “We could find a loophole for the inheritance.”
I shake my head, wiping the smile off my face. My big brother, always trying to swoop in and rescue me. “Nah, I’m good.”
I made my bed, and I’m gonna fuckin’ lie in it. I’d like to think Nana Jo would understand.
“Enough about me. Where are you? Wanna grab food or something?”
He grunts. “I have a few things to take care of tonight. Tomorrow?”
I nod, even though Graham can't see it through the phone. "Yeah, sounds good."
We end the call, and I toss my phone onto the bed, scrubbing a hand over my face. The restless energy is already starting to build, anticipation and adrenaline mixing in my veins.
It’s going to be a long twenty-four hours.