8. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Molly
"How about this one?"
I hold up a green sweater that's so wrinkled it looks like it went through a war zone. Which, considering it spent two weeks crammed in my suitcase while I drove aimlessly across three states, isn't far from the truth.
Sienna leans against the doorframe of the guest room, watching with undisguised amusement and absolutely no discretion as I crouch in my lacy black panties, frantically pawing through my suitcase like a raccoon searching for trash.
"Depends," she says thoughtfully. "Are you trying to look like you just rolled out of bed? Because that's a solid choice if so."
I toss the sweater over my shoulder, adding to the growing pile of rejects on the floor.
"Everything I own is either completely inappropriate for mountain life or looks like I've been sleeping in it for weeks."
"Which you have," Sienna points out helpfully. "Been sleeping in it for weeks, I mean."
"Not helping," I mutter, digging deeper.
The frantic sound of cartoon explosions filters down the hallway from Maisie's room, providing a chaotic soundtrack to my fashion crisis.
I don't know why I'm even stressing.
It's just dinner. With Beau.
Beau Callahan, who barely speaks. Who probably asked me out of pity.
"Ooh, what about that?" Sienna points to a deep burgundy sweater I've just unearthed. "It's cute. Low-cut but not desperate. Perfect for a mountain tavern date."
"It's not a date," I insist, examining the sweater critically. "He felt sorry for me after I said that pathetic stuff about being alone."
"Sure," Sienna nods, not even trying to hide her smirk. "And I bet those sexy panties you're wearing are just… what? A coincidence?"
I glance down at my underwear. "These are just regular underwear!"
"Honey, nothing black and lacy is 'just regular.' And you should know, these mountain men are stronger than they look." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.
"Oh my God, stop," I groan, pulling the burgundy sweater over my head. "It's just dinner!"
Sienna laughs. "Beau Callahan doesn't do anything out of pity. He barely does anything out of basic human decency. If he asked you to dinner, it's because he wanted to."
I smooth the sweater over my hips, critically examining my reflection in the mirror. The neckline dips just low enough to show the curve of my breasts without being too obvious. I think.
I push the thought away and reach for my boots. "This is probably a terrible idea."
"Probably," Sienna agrees cheerfully. "But terrible ideas make the best stories."
Before I can respond, the rumble of a truck engine cuts through the quiet evening. My heart leaps into my throat.
"He's here!" Maisie shouts from down the hall, followed by the thunder of little feet racing toward the front door.
"Shit," I mutter, fumbling for my coat. "I'm not ready!"
"Yes, you are," Sienna says, her tone suddenly softer. "You look beautiful, Mol. And you deserve a nice night out, even if it is with the grumpiest man in three counties."
The warmth in her voice makes my throat tight.
For so long with Riley, getting ready meant trying to avoid criticism. With Sienna, it feels like... support. Like I can't really get it wrong.
I grab my purse and take a deep breath. "Okay. It's just dinner. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Well, you could end up discovering just how strong mountain men really are." Sienna's grin turns wicked and she winks. "In the best way possible."
"I hate you," I laugh, shoving past her.
"No you don't!" she calls after me. "Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"That leaves a terrifyingly wide range of options," I shout back, hurrying toward the front door.
I dash across the yard, immediately regretting my choice of heels as they sink into the snowy ground. The passenger door of Beau's truck is already open, waiting for me, and I manage to clamber up with marginally more grace than last time.
When I look over, the words I'd planned to say die in my throat.
Beau is staring.
Not just looking— staring , his eyes dark and intent, fixed somewhere in the vicinity of my sweater's neckline. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see a muscle jumping in his cheek, and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
I should be offended. I should clear my throat or make some snarky comment.
Instead, I feel a rush of heat that makes my nipples tighten and my skin flush.
" Yoohoo! My face is up here, big guy," I finally say, trying for teasing but landing somewhere closer to breathless.
His eyes snap up to mine. "I know where your face is."
The gruff response shouldn't send a thrill through me, but it does. There's something about the rough edge to his voice that makes me want to hear what it sounds like when he's completely undone.
Down, girl. It's just dinner.
Beau shifts the truck into gear and pulls away from Sienna's house.
We drive through the town with fresh snow covering everything. It still looks like something from a Christmas card, with the quaint storefronts with twinkling lights, smoke curling from chimneys, people bustling along cleared sidewalks, all of them stopping to talk to each other as they pass.
"It's beautiful," I say, unable to keep the wonder from my voice.
When I glance over, there's the faintest hint of a smile tugging at Beau's lips.
"The town cleans up nice after a storm," he admits. "Folks here know how to handle the seasons."
"Unlike me," I laugh, gesturing to my completely impractical footwear.
His eyes flick to my feet, then back to the road. "You'll learn."
It's oddly comforting that he assumes I'll be around long enough to adapt. I haven't really thought about it yet.
As we approach the main street, I notice people turning to look at our truck. Some wave. Others nudge their companions and whisper.
"Just so you know… People will talk," Beau warns, his voice low. "It's a small town, and they're not exactly used to seeing me around. Plus, they don't have much by the way of gossip, so they're like leaches the moment something happens."
"Let them talk," I say with more confidence than I feel. "I've survived worse than gossip."
We pull up outside a weathered building with a wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. Timber Tavern .
Through frost-edged windows, I can see the silhouettes of people inside. It looks busy, and Beau comes around to my side of the truck to open my door. He offers his hand as I navigate the step down, his body radiating heat in the cold evening air.
It's a really nice start to the night, but the moment we push through the tavern door, all conversation stops.
Literally stops.
Like someone hit a mute button on the entire room.
Dozens of eyes swing our way, widening as they take in the sight of Beau Callahan, apparently the town hermit, with a woman.
The tavern is everything I imagined a mountain establishment would be.
Wooden beams overhead hung with vintage lanterns, a massive stone fireplace crackling with huge logs, the rich scents of smoke and grilled meat hanging in the air.
Tables made from split tree trunks are filled with locals, all of whom are now staring at us with interest.
I resist the urge to hide behind Beau's broad shoulders.
A man with ruggedly handsome features and kind eyes approaches, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his jeans.
"Well, well. If it isn't Beau Callahan emerging from hibernation."
"Charlie," Beau nods, his face impassive as he shakes the mans hand in that oddly masculine way Riley could never pull off.
Charlie's gaze shifts to me, a smile spreading across his face. "And with company. Our beautiful world truly is full of wonders."
"We'll take a table, Charlie," Beau grunts. "My usual corner, if it's free."
Charlie's eyebrows rise at the demand, but his smile doesn't falter. "Follow me."
He leads us to an intimate booth in the far corner of the room. I notice how Beau positions himself with his back to the wall, eyes sweeping the room in what seems like an unconscious assessment before he sits.
Old military habit, I guess.
"Your usual?" Charlie asks Beau, who nods once.
Charlie turns to me with a wink. "And for the lady... I think we need something special."
Before I can respond, he's striding back toward the bar, leaving me and Beau in a bubble of awkward silence.
"So," I begin, desperately searching for a conversation starter as I try to ignore the weight of dozens of stares burning into my back. "Come here often?"
The corner of Beau's mouth twitches.
"Occasionally." His eyes scan the room again, and I catch the barest hint of discomfort in the way his shoulders tense. "Usually for takeout."
"Ah, the Beau special," I tease, trying to lighten the mood. "Let me guess… you have them package it in a plain brown bag so no one knows you're actually eating something other than what you've hunted yourself?"
"Don't be ridiculous." He pauses, and I swear there's a glimmer of mischief in his expression. "I use my own containers. More environmentally friendly."
I can't help but laugh. A few of the more obvious eavesdroppers return to their meals, though I notice they keep throwing not-so-subtle glances our way.
"Well," I say, leaning forward slightly, "I'm honored to be the one to drag you out of your cave and into civilization. Though I have to ask… do you always take your dates somewhere the entire town can watch?"
His eyes darken slightly at the word 'dates,' and I immediately wish I could take it back.
But before I can backtrack, he responds in that low, gravelly voice that does things to my insides. "Only the ones worth being seen with."
Oh. Oh.
Around us, the tavern gradually returns to its normal volume, though I catch curious glances thrown our way every few seconds.
"You're a celebrity," I observe, nodding toward the not-so-subtle stares.
Beau shifts uncomfortably. "They're just not used to seeing me with... people."
"So who's who in this little show?" I ask, trying to put Beau at ease. "Give me the local rundown."