17. Beau
seventeen
Beau
“So what do you think of this place?”
Ollie scans the diner—the checkerboard floor, red leather booths, the counter with its neat row of chrome stools, the flashing vintage jukebox—and shrugs.
“It’s cool.”
Not exactly the rave review I was hoping for. “Cool,” I echo.
He returns to his laminated menu, and I study him over the top of mine.
It’s our day off, and this is the first time we’re eating somewhere other than at home.
Ollie’s sick of the half dozen dishes I prepare for us, and so am I, but if it weren’t for the kids-eat-free promotion, we’d be suffering through meatloaf again.
A young woman with a name badge that says “Kaitlyn” approaches our table, pen and paper in hand. “What can I get you?”
I tip my head at Ollie to let him know he should order first.
“Mac and cheese, please,” he says.
“Sure, honey.” Kaitlyn scribbles on her notepad. “Anything to drink?”
“Hmm.” Ollie squints at the menu like it’s a wine list, and I share an amused look with the server. “I’ll have a Sprite.”
“And a salad,” I add, knowing he probably won’t eat it, but at least I tried.
“No problem.” Kaitlyn notes it all down and turns to me. “And for you?”
“Cheeseburger and fries,” I say. “And another Sprite.”
“Sure thing.” She takes our menus with a practiced smile. “Won’t be long.”
Ten minutes later, Ollie is digging into a bowl of creamy elbow-shaped pasta, and I’ve smashed half my burger. The food is good, even if the salad sits untouched.
I pick through my fries, nudging the crispy ones aside and eating the softer ones with ketchup.
“What’s wrong with those?” Ollie asks.
“Nothing,” I say.
“Then why aren’t you eating them?”
“Weird habit,” I say.
He shrugs and goes back to his dinner while I take a gulp of soda, then wipe my face with a napkin. I need to tell Ollie about the job in Kismet Creek, and my stomach is tight.
“So, Ollie. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Ollie’s fork freezes on its way to his mouth. “Is this about my mom?”
The hope in his voice catches me off guard. “What? No,” I reply too fast, and his shoulders drop.
“I’m sorry, buddy. That might not be what you wanted to hear.” I sigh and shake my head. “Your mom hasn’t called. I wish I had better news for you.”
“Oh.” Ollie pokes at his food. “What about Grandma and Grandpa? Because I usually stay with them when Mom goes away.”
This is the first time Ollie has asked about what happened with Sarah, and it proves how much of his shyness has been to protect himself. I wish I’d had the sense to get advice from his psychologist about how to field his curiosity, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.
“No, I haven’t talked to them either,” I reply.
“Oh.”
I wish he were old enough to understand how complicated family can be, but even then, I might not be completely honest. I have no intention of engaging with my parents, nor would I hand over Ollie if they asked. Sarah wants her son with me.
“Ollie?” I wait for him to give me his full attention. “I know things are confusing right now, but no matter what happens next, I’m not going anywhere. You are my number one priority. Always.”
He nods. “I know.”
“Okay. Good.”
“So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Ah…” I fumble for something to say. It doesn’t feel right to tell him about my new job now, and I’m too scared to try. “Well—”
“Daisy!”
The bell over the diner door jingles as she walks in and stops at the sound of her name. Her gaze darts from Ollie to me, and she closes her eyes like she can’t believe her bad luck.
Ollie slips out of our booth and runs right to her.
“Hey, cowboy!” Daisy says. “What are you doing here?”
“Having dinner with Uncle Beau.”
“That sounds like a good time.”
“What are you doing here?” Ollie asks her.
“Same as you. I was hungry.”
Ollie grabs her hand. “You can eat dinner with us. We’re only halfway done.”
She shoots me an uncertain glance, and I stick a soggy fry into my mouth, pretending I don’t care if she sits with us or not. We’ve barely spoken a word since our confrontation about the vet. I muffle a snort. What kind of vet struts around half naked?
Since then, Daisy has avoided me, and I’ve let her. The more time we spend together, the less control I have over my emotions, and I don’t trust myself to keep my thoughts to myself anymore.
But she’s here, and self-destructive or not, I hope Ollie convinces her to stay.
Ollie tugs on her arm, but Daisy drags her feet, and I keep my expression neutral, even as my heart skips.
“Uh… maybe another time,” she says.
“Oh.” Ollie stops pulling at her. “Is that because you’re my boss? And bosses can’t be friends with stable hands?”
“No! That’s not it at all. We’re friends.”
“Really?” Ollie brightens. “So you’ll sit at our table?”
Daisy hesitates, looking at me for an answer, and I give her a one-shouldered shrug.
She puffs out a breath and says, “Sure. Why not?”
Ollie’s beaming as he shows Daisy to our booth, but she looks troubled. Our past belongs where it is—in the past—so as a peace offering, I slide over to make room beside me. She considers the space, ignores it, and slips in next to Ollie. My nephew grins like he won a competition.
“Do you need a menu?” he asks.
“Nope. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid, and would you believe they’ve had the same menu all that time? I always get either the mac and cheese or the burger and fries. Oh—and the hot fudge sundae for dessert.”
Ollie’s jaw drops. “That’s what we ordered!”
Daisy scans the plates on the table. “Wow! But what about that salad?”
Ollie screws up his nose. “Uncle Beau ordered it, but I think maybe it’s for me.”
“You’re right,” I say, picking up my burger. “It is.”
Ollie pokes out his tongue. “Blergh.”
Daisy pretends to think. “Hmm. Salad isn’t so bad, and that one looks tasty enough I might get one too.”
Ollie hurries to push his bowl at her. “You can have mine.”
She chuckles. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Uncle Beau?” Ollie says. “Can I pick a song on the jukebox?”
“Sure.” I reach into a dish on the table, which is filled with small metal jukebox tokens, then hand a few to Ollie. “Do you know how to use it?”
“I’ll figure it out,” he says before he dashes off.
By the time I return to my dinner, Daisy’s already stolen one of my crispy fries.
“He’s really come out of his shell,” she comments as we watch him across the diner.
“Yeah.” I move another fry to her pile and take another for myself. “Three weeks with me in San Diego didn’t do as much for him as half that amount of time at Silver Leaf.”
Daisy freezes, glaring at me, and I look up from my plate.
“What?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you did,” she says.
“What I did?”
“You used Ollie to get me to let you stay.”
I meet her accusatory stare with a blank one of my own, which is as good as admitting she’s right, and her mouth curves upward with victory.
“I knew it,” she says. “I feel for Ollie, but Kismet Creek will be as good for him as Aster Springs. Better—because it’s permanent.”
“I’m sorry I was sneaky about it,” I say. “But I had to be, and you always had a heart bigger than your head.”
She snorts as she steals another crispy fry and dips it violently in my ketchup.
“How’s that working for you?” I ask.
She looks at me with fatigued exasperation, like she’s tired of the games. “How’s what working?”
“The whole head versus heart thing.”
Her lips purse, irritation brewing, before she snatches up my burger and stuffs half of it in her face. I laugh, which sets off an amused shine in her eyes, but she’s bitten off more than she can chew. It takes a moment for her to swallow, and I watch her battle the burger as my adoration swells.
“As a matter of fact,” she says, taking a mouthful of my soda, “I’ve been all about the head this year.”
My grin widens, and I raise a single eyebrow. “Tell me more.”
Her cheeks flush, but she rolls her eyes. “Grow up. That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
I chuckle, and she fights a smile.
“I’ve been leading with my head,” she clarifies, and her attempt at poise sets me off again. She kicks my shin under the table, which makes me laugh harder. “Beau! Shut up!”
“I’m sorry.” I stifle my mirth as the warmth of my name on her lips sends me soaring. “I’m listening.”
“I’m leading with my head,” she says again. “Focusing on me. What I want. What I need. How I see my life panning out.”
“Oh yeah?” I reach for my burger, and she surrenders it, then picks up another crispy fry. “And what have you come up with?”
“Silver Leaf is everything. The horses, the trail rides, the business. That’s what motivates me now and will for the foreseeable future.”
I watch her closely, noting the tightness around her eyes, the slight downturn of her mouth, and the way she fidgets with her napkin.
“You hate it.”
Her eyes widen slightly before her brows draw down. “I do not.”
“Yeah, you do.”
She huffs like I couldn’t be more wrong, which only convinces me that I’m right.
“What’s the problem?” I ask.
She opens her mouth like she’s going to answer me, then recalls we don’t talk about stuff like this anymore. “What I do with my life and my choices is none of your business, remember?”
“I do.” The reminder of our conversation in the stable hurts like hell, and I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. I set down my burger and push the plate away.
“And what about you?” She picks through her fries like my answer doesn’t concern her one way or another. “Where have you been this past year?”
“I spent the summer at a ranch in Texas,” I tell her. “Moved around every few weeks after that. I was restless, I guess. Didn’t want to stay in the same place for too long.”
Her smile is full of memories and regret. “I get that. I miss that.”
“And I miss you,” I say before I can stop myself.
Daisy grows still, then she forces her gaze to the window.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head with a grimace. “Nothing.”
“You forget I know you. You want to ask me something.”
She snorts, but it’s forced. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Go ahead and ask it.” I watch her right cheek twitch and relish the fact that even after our separation, I can read her as well as I used to. “This might be your best chance.”
She picks up a fork and plays with the salad, pushing a piece of tomato around the plate. I wait patiently, knowing she can never keep her opinions to herself.
She frowns at a piece of wilted lettuce. “And… dating?”
I grunt. I shouldn’t have pushed it, but I was enjoying myself and didn’t want it to end. “Isn’t that one of those things we don’t get to ask each other anymore?”
She blushes, and her blinking quickens as she slides out of the booth. “I have to go.”
I stop her with a hand wrapped around her wrist. “Do you really want to know?”
Daisy stiffens, then nods like she wishes she could stop herself.
“I haven’t so much as looked at another woman,” I tell her. “Not since you.”
Her head whips around, and I meet her scrutiny easily, knowing that every word is the truth. We remain locked in a silent struggle, not knowing what to say next, until Ollie barrels over.
“This is my song!” he says as a modern country tune plays from the jukebox. When he doesn’t get a response from either of us, he begins to bounce on his toes. “Can you hear it? Do you like it?”
“Yep, and it’s one of my favorites too.” Daisy pulls her arm from my grip and offers Ollie a high-five. He slaps her hand with a satisfying smack, and she adds, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay, cowboy?”
Ollie’s smile melts. “Are you leaving already?”
“Yep. You know how important it is to go to bed early when you’re up at sunrise, right?”
He sighs. “I suppose so.”
“Good man.” Daisy hesitates, her focus coasting past me before catching again. “Thanks for dinner.”
I nod politely. “You’re welcome.”
She disappears through the door while Ollie asks for a hot fudge sundae, and I wave over the server to let her know we’re ready for dessert.
When it arrives, Ollie eats with the kind of gusto he didn’t have for the mac and cheese, and when he offers me a spoonful, I barely taste the vanilla ice cream or chocolate sauce. I’m distracted by thoughts of Daisy and what she thinks of my confession.
There haven’t been other women since her, and there never will be. When I asked her to marry me, I meant it. And she might not have said yes, but it doesn’t change how I feel. I’ll spend the rest of my life loving Daisy Davenport, whether she wants me to or not.