6. Liam
six
Liam
I have a lot of connections in the music industry.
Most of them were necessary business relationships with powerful figures who could influence the trajectory of Atonement’s career.
There were plenty of others, though. One-night stands. A few repeat hook-ups with people I knew wouldn’t expect more from me. People who understood my preferences .
I wasn’t expecting to hear from Beau Whitaker ever again. Somehow, thinking his name the other day at the gym must have manifested him back into my life.
For the third time since I hopped in my Pantera, I confirm it’s actually his name on my phone. That it was his voice I heard on the other end, heavy with sadness foreign to the troublemaking, sexy musician I once knew.
Fuck my need to fix things. I was having a perfectly good day with Stas. I don’t like leaving her when it’s been ages since we’ve hung out like that. Just the two of us.
But I also can’t leave Beau stranded at the airport.
Pressing the gas pedal down to the floorboard, I weave through traffic. Several middle fingers point in my direction.
Welcome back to Texas .
In record time, I park at the airport and head to the baggage claim area for the incoming flight from Vancouver .
Sensing curious eyes on me, I amp up my “fuck off” energy to keep them away. I might look murderous on the outside, but on the inside, I’m more than a little anxious about this reunion.
If I were certain Beau had someone else to pick him up, I wouldn’t have offered. But he’s flying into Dallas without his band when the last time I checked he lived in Phoenix.
Something’s definitely wrong.
A mob of tired-looking people floods down the hall toward the baggage area. I tense up, not sure what emotion will surge through me when I see him. Regret? Worry? Excitement?
Will I even recognize him?
That concern is put to rest real quick when I hone in on a tall man who looks like sex clad in artfully torn up lounge clothes. He’s got a tattered army green backpack slung over his shoulder and bulky headphones over his shag of dark brown hair with a deliberate streak of white through it.
Deep blue eyes glitter back at me, and I’m drawn to him like a black hole.
I thought I’d escaped him. But here I am. Sucked right back in.
His pace slows. His brows furrow, almost like he’s having regrets about calling me, just like I’m regretting showing up.
As he takes those final steps toward me, he slides his headphones down to his neck. “You came.”
I look him over, noting the addition of a gold hoop through his nostril and a slight sunburn to his cheeks. My cock gives a twitch, reminding me how much I like the way he looks. How much I liked being inside him.
“Luggage?”
He fusses with his hair. “Don’t have any. ”
I assume that means he’s not staying long. The tightness in my chest doesn’t ease, though. Have I ever seen him travel without a guitar? Beau’s the kind of guy you lose at a party because he’s found some sort of instrument to play with in a back room.
Irritated by the looks we’re drawing, I start walking toward the exit. It’s rare that anyone asks for my autograph. Not many fans have the balls to approach me, and I’d like to keep it that way. People can appreciate my music without needing to know who the fuck I am.
I don’t bother checking to make sure Beau’s following. I can feel him behind me. His very existence demands attention. His dimpled smile earned a horde of followers on social media. I admit I sometimes scroll through his profile in brief moments of weakness.
Hot air engulfs us as soon as we step outside, and Beau moans. “ Fuck , that feels good.”
Stride faltering, I glance back in time to see him close his eyes and tip his head up toward the sun.
Locks of hair slide away from his face, revealing a patch of vitiligo at the hinge in his jaw he likes to hide.
He has more spots under his arms and behind his knees.
Another on his stomach I enjoyed kissing because it made him quiver.
Forcing myself to keep walking, I hit the unlock button on my car and pop the trunk for him. Then I open the passenger door and wait.
He holds my gaze as he approaches, those gem blue eyes more guarded than I remember. Like the world’s shown him its teeth.
Or like he doesn’t fully trust me.
“So. Thanks for this,” he says, ducking into my car and saving me from having to find an appropriate response.
I almost ignored your call.
I hadn’t planned on ever seeing you again.
You shouldn’t be here .
You still take up space in my mind.
Clenching my teeth, I climb into the driver’s seat and start up my car.
“Care to explain what you’re doing here?” I ask.
Beau mulls this over. “Only if you tell me why you retired.”
Sighing, I gun it out of the airport parking lot. I don’t know what else I expected from him. Beau’s never been afraid of speaking his mind. He’d ask personal questions without hesitation and push buttons until he got reactions. Usually, this resulted in me punishing him like the brat he is.
“I’m not retired,” I say, merging onto the highway. “I opened a recording studio.”
When I glance over at him, a soft smile appears on his face. “I approve of your decision then.”
I snort. “Thanks for the sign off.”
“Hey, you were a huge inspiration to other musicians.”
“Musicians like you?” I cock a brow.
The corner of his mouth lifts higher, teasing me with one of those dimples. “You don’t care for fanboys, remember?”
“You’re not a fanboy. You’re trouble.”
This earns me a chuckle. “Glad we reestablished that.”
“Where are you staying?”
The words are out of my mouth before I can register what the fuck I’m doing.
“Some hotel called the Sandman? Name sounded fun. Enter Sandman. Get it?”
I grip the wheel tighter. He showed up here in the middle of a tour without his band or instrument just to stay in a hotel?
Yeah, I need to pinpoint his fucking problem. Then I can patch him up and send him on his way. Beau doesn’t belong in Dallas. He belongs out in the world, sharing his talent .
“How long you in town?” I ask.
He’s silent for a beat, and my pulse speeds up, thinking we’re finally getting somewhere with this conversation.
“Not really sure,” he admits quietly.
I throw my car into park at a stoplight so I can glare at him. “Beau.”
“It’s all good. No worries.”
Frustration curls in my chest. As many times as we hooked up, I never got to the bottom of him. He’s an ocean that hasn’t been fully explored. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Maybe that’s why I kept taking his calls, enticed by the enigma he is.
Blue eyes meet mine. “Green light. Or you can keep staring at me if you want.”
Gripping the wheel tighter, I blurt out, “I have a spare room. Stay with me.”
He runs his hands over his thighs, visibly wearing through the worn material of his black joggers. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Why did you call then, Beau?” I demand, ignoring the wailing horns of trucks as they swerve around me.
He cranes his neck to glance out the passenger window like he’s suddenly found something fascinating in the night sky. “Don’t know.”
An uncomfortable tightness wraps around my lungs. I reach out to take his jaw in my hand, bringing his face back to me. “Cancel the hotel reservation.”
I glimpse the first shimmer of life in his eyes since he stepped off that plane. “Make me.”
As his teeth catch his bottom lip, I pop it free with my thumb. Then I dig out my phone and search for the hotel number. Putting the phone on speaker, I request a cancelation from the customer service member who answers. “What’s the name on the reservation, sir? ”
“Beau Whitaker,” I reply.
Keys clack in the background, and Beau squirms in the seat. “I’m sorry. I’m not finding anything under that name. Do you have a confirmation number?”
I raise my brows at Beau.
“Must not have hit the booking button,” he mumbles.
Hanging up the phone, I shift into gear. “You’re staying with me.”
He doesn’t respond, so I take the exit toward my townhouse.
I don’t understand why he would lie about where he was staying. Where did he plan to go? Am I self-centered in my thinking that he actually came to see me?
A storm of unwanted emotions rage in my chest. Anger. Frustration. Concern over having both Beau and Stas under my roof when my self-control is already flagging like I’ve run a marathon.
At least I’ve only fucked one of them.
Jesus .
Beau throws me a curious look when I pull into my double garage. “Nice place.”
I don’t entertain him with an answer as I get out of my car and stalk through the interior door.
“Stasi?” I call out.
“I’m here.”
I feel the burn of Beau’s eyes on the back of my head.
“I’m not sleeping with her,” I say, quiet enough for Beau’s ears only.
“Did I hear a ‘yet’ at the end of that sentence?” Beau teases.
I clench my jaw. We’re not done with our discussion about what he’s doing here, but my interrogation will have to wait until I can use more elaborate tactics to get him to talk .
Rounding the hall into the kitchen, I spot Stas behind a line-up of baking ingredients. She’s in the middle of fixing her hair, head bowed as she gathers the layers into a hand.
When she straightens back up, I can’t keep my gaze from dipping to the cropped black tank top she’s stripped down to, clinging to her fit body.
“Got hot. I didn’t want to mess with your thermostat,” she explains.
Her gaze darts to Beau, and her lips part. I look back at Beau, surprised to find he’s just as captivated by what he sees.
“Holy fuck,” he utters, his backpack dropping to the floor.
I’m tempted to wrap my hand around the back of his neck and steer him right the fuck out of my house. Last thing Stas needs is to be drooled over by both of us. Does she get any peace in her life? Does she want it or would she rather a little chaos?
“This is why you left me on read, huh?” Beau chuckles.
His words spear through the defective organ in my chest. I didn’t realize he cared. Was he pretending to be apathetic every time I left him after a hookup? Never once did he bat those long lashes at me or show signs of wanting more.
Did I take advantage of that? Did I…hurt him?
Beau drags a hand through his hair, his eyes stuck on the beautiful woman standing before us.
Yeah, she’s a lot. Perfection on a bad day. Life-changing on a good one. How the fuck she’s still single… it’s got to be by choice.
But when I think about it, I can’t recall a time she’s ever mentioned dating someone.
I know she messed around in college. It used to drive Hail crazy to be labeled the only black sheep in his family when he was paying his bills with music and Stas was flunking classes and partying.
He couldn’t see that they were both seeking attention in their own unique way.
Beau moves over to her and holds out a hand. “Hey. I’m Beau.”
“Stasi,” she replies, flushing.
He cracks a full dimpled smile, and I know it’s game over. She’s about to be sucked into his event horizon just like everyone else. “Pretty name. So, did Liam work his sorcery on you too?”