Chapter 12 #2
Silence fell between us, and I grasped for a change in topic. I didn’t want to think about my life, so it was time to turn the spotlight on him.
I clapped my hands together.
“You should come to the bar tonight. It won’t be as busy as Friday or Saturday nights, but it’s still a fun time.”
“I’m not really a bar hopping kind of guy.”
“We only have the one bar, so there won’t be any hopping. Unless it’s bed-hopping, but I should warn you—“
“Not interested.”
“Good luck with that. The women of Sierra Rose Ridge are thirsty, desperate, and voracious.”
“Does that include you?”
My heart skipped, but I played it off with a smirk.
“Obviously I was desperate. Look what I ended up with. On that note, I’ve got to get to work before Neil sticks me with the Boomers again.”
“Okay, I’ll be back to pick you up tonight.”
“I can get a ride with Neil.”
“I’ll be back to pick you up tonight.”
“Fine, fine,” I said with a pleased smile “I’ll see you tonight.”
Tonight was off to a great start.
“That shirt makes you look like you’re open for business. Is that why you’re avoiding me? You’re sleeping around and thought I wouldn’t find out if you didn’t come home? I knew it.”
My back teeth ground, and I fought the urge to leap across the bar and beat his ass.
I wouldn’t spend one more minute pretending I still liked him.
Maybe it was better to do this here when there were people around.
It wasn’t crowded, but there was enough of an audience he’d keep his cool. Hopefully.
“We should break up, Beau.”
I moved around the bar to be closer to him, but maybe that was a mistake.
“What are you talking about, Dani?” he sneered. “Don’t be stupid. Is it that time of the month? You always get overly emotional then.”
White hot anger burst through me, but I restrained myself. An attempted-murder charge wouldn’t look good when I took this piece of shit to court to get my money back. Shayla cautioned me to string him along as long as possible, but my sanity was more important than continuing the charade.
“I want to break up,” I said in a calm voice that carried to those seated nearby.
Beau’s eyes flashed, and his face underwent a quick succession of expressions, ranging from shock to horror to hatred. He settled on disgust.
I backed up a few paces. His expression made me wary, and I wanted more space between us. With a quick glance around, I sought Neil but didn’t see him. He’d be close, though; he always hovered these days when Beau was around.
“I should have known. If I wasn’t here, would you have broken up with me before you moved on, or are you already fucking half the bar?” He snapped his fingers. “It’s that asshole neighbor, isn’t it? I knew you were fucking him.”
“I’m not a cheater. I’ve never cheated on you with anyone, especially Jake. He’s a friend. I haven’t had sex with anyone in months,“ I hissed.
“Now it’s my fault you’re always at work instead of spending time with me?”
It was his fault I had to work so much since he’d been stealing from me and lying about our finances. Anger warred with grief as I thought about how I worked myself to the bone for him to spend my hard-earned money on other women.
With a fake smile, I lowered my voice to keep from being the gossip du jour. One of the retirees scooted closer, so that ship already sailed.
“It’s over, Beau. We’ve had some good times, but our relationship has run its course. Don’t ruin what we had by saying things you’ll regret.”
His face morphed into the same expression he wore the night I discovered his depravity: abject sadness and an endearing, aw-shucks look.
It was powerful and might have been effective, but those receipts and emails hardened my heart against his subterfuge. How many times had he used that on me, and I didn’t realize it was a mask to hide the ugliness beneath?
When his cajoling didn’t work, Beau switched to personal attacks.
He recited a litany of my past failures as a girlfriend, roommate, and person, and declared no one would take care of me like he did.
I tuned out his voice when he brought up my disastrous sex skills, though anger and shame held me in its grip.
A calloused hand landed on my bare back, and my stress levels plummeted.
“I knew it,” Beau sneered. “There’s more between you. Men and women can’t be friends. How long have you been fucking him?”
“Just because you’re incapable of seeing a woman as anything other than an object doesn’t mean we’re all built that way,” Jake responded.
A shiver ran up my spine as his gravelly voice caressed my ears.
Damn it, nipples, now is not the time.
“Is he bothering you?” Jake leaned closer. I got a whiff of his clean, manly scent. Industrial soap, a little sweat, and his unique smell. No colognes or scented soaps designed to trick a woman’s senses. It was all him.
“I’m talking to my girlfriend,” Beau interjected. “No one invited you.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” I said.
As Jake’s raised eyebrow, I nodded.
“We broke up.”
“Ah.”
He drew out the word to acknowledge my unspoken message. His easy acceptance of my decision to go against my lawyer’s advice sent relief through me. I said a mental thank you to Neil for alerting Jake to get him here at this exact moment.
“Ah?” Beau mocked. “That’s all you have to say?”
“Beau, go home,” I said in a tired voice. “Better yet, call someone to come get you since you’re drunk.”
“I’m a better driver drunk than you are sober,” he railed.
“Yes, yes. You’re the best at everything, and I’m the stupid girl who can’t see your brilliance for what it is. Regardless, we’re through. You need to call someone to come get you, or go sleep it off in your car.”
Inwardly, I shook, but I sounded calm and confident.
“We’ll come by in a few days to get her things, and they’d better be in the same condition as when she left them,” Jake added.
“Or what?” Beau snapped.
“Or you’ll replace everything.”
Jake’s calm in the face of Beau’s ugliness highlighted their differences more than anything, but their appearances were also markedly different.
Most people around here wore jeans and t-shirts for everyday wear, unless they were at work.
As a bartender slash web-designer, I leaned into the expectations of artsy weirdo.
But men’s clothing here fell into one of two styles: dress jeans or work jeans. Neil was the exception.
Jake wore his usual scruffy jeans, faded and molded to his muscular thighs with frayed hems, a plain t-shirt soft from repeat washing that accentuated his well-developed chest, worn-in cowboy boots with scuffed heels and a dull patina.
His short dark hair was swept off his forehead, and his neatly trimmed beard emphasized his lean cheeks.
Beau was the one who worked at the ranch, but he was dressed like a city slicker in the Southwest for the first time.
He wore a new straw cowboy hat and not-yet-broken-in cowboy boots, pressed, dark blue denim, a large, flashy belt buckle, an embroidered western button-down shirt with pearlescent buttons, and a cheesy bolo tie.
This was a new look for him, and it was ridiculous. If I cared, I’d tell him he looked like a bad movie studio’s idea of a cowboy instead of the real thing. But I hoped he choked on his stupid bolo.