Chapter 24
twenty-four
HANNAH
“You’re in Daddy’s bed.”
I blinked open my eyes, instantly aware and instantly horrified that Clara was standing at the side of the bed, eye level with me.
Beau’s arm was draped over my torso. My luckily clothed torso. If you counted Beau’s tee and panties as clothed.
I was going to move. To do what, I didn’t know. We hadn’t exactly thought this through. Well, we’d thought of this too many times. At least I had. In my wildest fantasies. But that involved a lot of sexual acts, and no consideration for consequences that came from those acts.
Those acts were even better in real life than in my wildest fantasies, if that was to be believed.
And engaging in those acts resulted in me being where I was now. In bed. With Beau. In view of Clara, who up until that moment had only seen me and her father either barely speaking or weirdly dancing around each other. The shock it must’ve been to her system had guilt flooding mine.
My instinct was to move, go back in time, preferably. To make more adult decisions to protect this little girl.
As if reading my mind, Beau’s arm tightened around me, stopping me from moving. His body lurched forward, leaning over to lift Clara into bed with us.
I quickly moved to accommodate her; my heart melted when she snuggled into my arms without hesitation. As though we did that every morning. As if it wasn’t a huge change to her world, her routine.
Clara was easy with affection to those she trusted and loved. Something I’d marveled at, how she’d curl up with me on the couch, hold my hand, kiss Beau unprompted.
Though I wasn’t surprised, given my short, intimate relationship with Beau, he was freely affectionate with me. He hadn’t kept his hands off me since I’d initiated contact on the sofa.
“Hannah is going to be sleeping in my bed from now on. Do you know what that means?” Beau ran his fingers through his daughter’s messy hair.
My breath caught at him stating it so plainly, casually. As if it were going to be this way forever.
“Fuck, I love you, Hannah.”
He’d told me he loved me last night. I had not imagined that. He loved me and he was telling his daughter I’d be sleeping there, in his bed, in his room from now on.
I could not deal with such intense feelings a minute after waking up.
Clara looked up at me. “It means you guys are … kissing!” she exclaimed with glee. “Is Daddy your boyfriend now?”
I pursed my lips to hide my smile at her joy, my gaze darting to Beau.
I waited for it to come, for that harshness to change his features, the shuttering of his expressive eyes. Regret. But it didn’t. His eyes danced with warmth that filled me from the inside out.
“Yes, it means Hannah is my girlfriend,” He spoke so matter-of-factly, like he was telling her the sky was blue. As if he didn’t just drop a meteor onto my world.
When Clara glanced at me, I expected a grin. She frowned instead, and my heart sunk. This wasn’t what she wanted. Of course, it wasn’t. She’d already had so much turmoil, uncertainty in her short life. More change would scare her.
“But you’ll still look after me, right?” she clarified. “Not look after Daddy?”
I smothered a chuckle at the somber way she was saying it. “You think a girlfriend is someone who takes care of their boyfriend?”
She nodded, her bottom lip wobbling.
“Who the fuck told you that shit?” Beau snarled.
All of his carefree morning softness was instantaneously replaced with the familiar alpha-male short temper. It used to grate on my skin like razor blades. Now that I was tucked safely in bed with him, it only served to send delicious tendrils of warmth between my thighs.
“Bobbie from the playground,” Clara replied, not perturbed by her father’s ire. “He wanted me to be his girlfriend, and that meant I had to take care of him, share my snacks.”
“Bobbie is getting a fucking talking to,” Beau snapped, eyes like fire. Like he was plotting the demise of a five-year-old.
“What did you say to Bobbie?” I asked, giving Beau a shake of my head.
“I told him no.” Clara threaded her fingers through mine. “I don’t need to take care of a boy. I’ve got too much going on. And I have the best snacks. I’ll share them if I want to, not because some boy tells me to.”
The warmth in my lower body spread throughout me. Utterly different to how I’d felt in bed with Beau alone, but so wonderful it made me want to burst into tears. I was so proud of who Clara was, so infinitely lucky that I got to know her, got to hold her hand in bed and listen to her.
But I could not burst into tears right then.
“You go, girlfriend.” I held out my knuckles, which she bumped against hers. “And to answer your question.” I pulled her in tighter. “I absolutely will still be taking care of you.”
That was not something Beau and I had explored at length last night.
We’d established that I’d stay here, in his bed, apparently.
That we’d be having sex. But would he still be paying me?
What about the bomb he’d dropped about his ex-wife dying?
How and when would Clara learn about that?
Yeah, that needed a little more straightening out.
“It is not Hannah’s job to take care of me,” Beau chimed in. “It’s mine to take care of her. And you.”
I shook my head again. “We’ll talk about that and give your daddy a lesson on feminism soon,” I told Clara.
“We’re both going to be focusing on taking care of you, that won’t change.
That will never change. But you may see your daddy kiss me.
” Unease snaked through me, unsure if Beau was going to be okay with PDA.
Maybe he wouldn’t. “Is that okay?” I didn’t know if I was asking Beau or Clara.
“Of course, that’s okay!” Clara practically screamed. “I’ve been telling Daddy he needs a girlfriend forever, and I’ve been secretly plotting it to be you. I wish for it every night in my dreams.” She beamed at me. “You’re welcome.”
I couldn’t hold in my giggle. “I am so very glad for you, Clara Shaw.” I kissed her dark hair, inhaling the smell of her shampoo.
“And I am so very glad for both of you,” Beau grumbled. He kissed Clara’s head, in the exact spot where I did. Then he leaned over and kissed me. On the lips. No tongue, but not just a peck either.
Clearly, he was okay with PDA.
As was Clara, who squealed in delight.
“Okay.” She stood up. “I’m hungry.”
My mouth was still tingling from the kiss, my body was liquid, my mind was light, and I was still questioning whether this was all a wonderful dream. Because of that, I didn’t immediately move or answer Clara.
But Beau did. He got out of bed. I licked my lips, admiring the shape of his body, his tanned skin, cut abs as he kicked his legs into jeans that were discarded on a chair in the corner.
“Come on, Bug.” Beau threw on a shirt then grabbed Clara by the mid-section, making her giggle in delight. “You can come with me to brush my teeth, then we’ll make Hannah breakfast in bed.”
Beau was halfway across the room with Clara in his arms by the time his words registered.
I propped myself up on my elbows, watching Beau place Clara on the sink.
“You do not have to make me breakfast in bed,” I told Beau, watching him get his toothbrush before handing Clara the toothpaste to squirt on it.
A small, everyday occurrence that felt precious and intimate to witness, especially from his bed.
Beau’s eyes darted to me as he took hold of the toothbrush.
My breathing quickened. The way he looked at me right then was world ending. He didn’t just want me, he knew me. Every inch of my body was his.
“We don’t have to,” he agreed. “But we want to.” Then he put his toothbrush in his mouth.
I could’ve argued with him, certainly, even if he had the toothbrush in his mouth. But he said we. Him and Clara. And she was sitting happily, swinging her legs, chattering away, grinning at me. Like she wasn’t at all shocked that I was in her father’s bed.
I wanted to get up. Terribly. It felt indulgent and almost fraudulent to be lying there, watching those two perfect humans go about their morning. Like they were mine.
But then maybe they were.
Maybe I’d just gotten everything I had ever dreamed of.
“It’s too early,” Cole whined as a greeting to my phone call.
“I’m in Beau’s bedroom,” I whispered. Clara had come running in with my phone and a book, relaying an order from her father to stay where I was. She came back again about five minutes later, holding a cup of coffee, sticking out her tongue in concentration so as not to spill any.
I’d invited her into bed with me, but she’d refused, telling me very seriously that she was the soup chef. I assumed that meant sous chef.
So I was alone. In Beau’s bedroom. The urge to snoop was overwhelming. I’d used the bathroom, taking note of how clean it was. Not so much as a fingerprint on the mirror, the double sinks almost sparkling. Towels folded neatly. A couple of men’s products on the counter.
The shower held rudimentary body care products. It was a nice bathroom, nothing fancy, but clean.
His room was the same. The walls were white, brighter than I expected, decorated with nothing but a few pictures of Clara. On his dresser were a couple more products, also lined up perfectly. A framed photo of a younger-looking Beau, cradling a tiny bundle with the biggest smile on his face.
My finger trailed over the lines of his face, so foreign, seeing him smile like that. No shadows behind his eyes. Only pure joy.
I thought about his words from the night before, about him not caring if I got pregnant by accident. Then I let myself think about another baby in Beau’s arms. Ours. Clara’s sister or brother.
I did eventually want children. But I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Not even with Beau. But one day, I wanted Beau to hold our baby. I wanted to give Clara a sibling.
Not knowing what else to do, I’d gotten back into bed and called my best friend.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded, suddenly sounding wide awake.