Chapter 21 #2
My heart contracts a little at this genuine and freely given praise.
I know she’s right; I’ve scratched way beneath the surface.
He still tries to keep me at bay when he can, with that quick smile and all those darlin’s, but I know better now.
I know him better. I’ve seen inside, to his hopes, dreams, fears, failings; I see all of him.
Each and every facet. Knowing that makes my heart race a little faster, my pulse fire like crazy.
‘How long have you lived out here?’ I ask, making a note on my pad just to underscore the journalistic side of what I’m doing.
‘A little over two years.’ Her smile is wistful. ‘I came out here for a temp job.’ She looks around, expression bemused. ‘And never really left again.’
‘You love it?’
‘It’s home.’ Her gaze drifts back to mine. ‘I used to think the world began in Harlem and ended at Battery Park,’ she says, with a wrinkle of her nose. ‘I was Manhattan, through and through. That’s what he calls me, you know. Manhattan.’
‘Beau?’
She nods affectionately. ‘At first, it scared the heck out of me. He was so friendly, so over-the-top nice. I’d never met anyone like him. But then I got to know him, to see that there’s more to him than just the flippant comments, the determined sunniness.’
‘He’s not sunny?’ I prod.
‘No, no, he is. He’s great. He’s pretty happy, but he also thinks a lot, cares deeply. He’d take a bullet for anyone in this family in a heartbeat. He’s one of the good ones.’
My heart lurches. I drop my head, scanning my notepad, terrified she’s going to see something in my face that shows how much her statement affects me. How much Beau affects me.
‘Tell me about his bull riding,’ I invite, trying to get the conversation properly back on track, needing my professionalism now more than ever.
‘You’ve been to a few events,’ Beth says. ‘I thought you’d know just about everything there is to know.’
‘I mean, about your thoughts on it.’
I glance up in time to see Beth’s features tighten, her hand reaching out for the coffee cup, shaking slightly. She smiles a little as she lifts it and takes a sip—a delaying technique, if ever I’ve seen one.
‘After his accident, it can’t have been easy to see him go back,’ I push, gently though, because upsetting anyone in Beau’s family is the last thing I want to do.
‘I presume you’ve seen the footage?’ she asks carefully.
I nod once, wishing I could blot the images from my mind, wishing they didn’t torment me every time he goes near a damn bull.
I’m already dreading the event on the weekend.
I know how much it means to him, because it’s in his home state, but the thought of watching him go out there and ride like he’s got nothing to lose sticks in my chest like a grenade waiting to go off.
‘It kills us, to think of that happening again.’ Her features are stricken, her face pale. ‘Every time he rides, we’re all holding our breath. Cole doesn’t even watch; he can’t bear to.’
‘But you do?’
Her expression shows pain. ‘I can’t bear not to,’ she admits. ‘I feel like if I watch, hold my breath, keep my fingers crossed, pray the whole time, maybe that will keep him safe.’
I don’t tell her that’s pretty much what I did last weekend. ‘You’re all really close.’
Beth brightens. ‘Yeah.’
‘It must be nice.’
Her eyes soften. ‘I never knew anything like this.’ She gestures to their home, her gaze following her hand’s trajectory.
‘I don’t come from a big family, at all.
The way they all talk over each other, laugh and joke, get in one another’s business—it’s like a story.
Like, how can this be real?’ She crinkles her nose.
‘You know what they’re calling our baby?
’ she asks, slipping her gaze back to mine.
‘What?’
‘Ranch Baby. Like I’m some kind of host mom or something,’ she says on a laugh. ‘I mean, I might be growing the kid inside me and be destined to push it out, but make no mistake, it’s all of our baby, not just Cole’s and mine.’
I laugh at that, reflecting on how well she’s captured Beau’s tone when he talked about Beth being pregnant. We’re having a baby. Something tightens inside of me that I blink away, my smile heavy on my face.
‘Anyway—’ Maybe she misunderstands my reaction, because her voice is suddenly businesslike. ‘I hope your article captures what a good guy he is.’
I turn back to face her, bemused. ‘Do you think I’m writing a hit piece or something?’ I use Beau’s phrasing, from a couple of weeks ago.
Beth’s eyes roam my face thoughtfully, her head tilted to the side a little. Her long blonde hair is swept over one shoulder, and she studies me before taking another sip of her coffee.
‘No,’ she says after a lengthy pause, her lips turning down in the corners. ‘But I guess the temptation is to have light and shade, to contrast his sunny nature with something else. Something maybe dark and gritty.’ She lifts her shoulders. ‘Beau deserves to come off well.’
I feel that burst of warmth again, at the people Beau has in his corner, but something else too.
Something that feels like icy fingers around my heart, because in contrast I’m so alone.
Last night, lying underneath the stars, clamped to Beau’s side, for a moment it was as though I had someone in my corner too, but it was an illusion.
Or, at the very best, temporary. Not like this.
These people are threaded together for all time.
‘This family’s pretty special,’ I say, true warmth in the words.
‘Yeah.’ Her smile is nostalgic. ‘Tell me about it. I was here about three seconds before I felt like they’d all adopted me.’
‘That seems to have worked out pretty well for everyone.’
She takes a sip of her coffee, nodding. ‘We’re a good team.’
‘Cole and you?’
‘All of us. That’s not to say it’s perfect. I mean, there are some clashes. Mack and Nash, for example,’ she says, then apparently remembers I’m a reporter, and visibly clamps her lips together.
‘Beau’s told me they argue sometimes. About her music?’
She looks relieved. ‘Oh, good. I thought I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to.’
‘Not at all. I’m really not interested in writing salacious gossip.
This is a story about Beau, to appeal to fans of bull riding, or people who like sports in general.
Most of it is going to be focused on him, his determination and drive, what it’s like when he gets on a bull. You know, human-interest stuff.’
Her head does that thoughtful little tilt again. ‘But you’re here, interviewing us?’
Heat moves from my head to my toes. I feel like she’s just accused me of sleeping with Beau, when her confusion is completely understandable.
‘I’m thorough,’ I say, with a small clear of my throat.
‘It helps me get a full picture of him, which means I can write a better article. I do this kind of thing with all my pieces.’
‘I’ve read a lot of what you’ve written.’
My eyes jerk to hers, surprised. ‘You have?’
‘When Beau told us you were doing this, I wanted to make sure …’ Her voice trails off into nothing.
‘That you could trust me.’
‘I know it sounds absurd—he’s a man-mountain in the prime of his life, he could practically tame a tiger with those hands of his,’ she adds, rolling her eyes, doing nothing for the heat that’s forming beneath my skin.
‘Yeah,’ I say, sounding as thirsty as I feel. I quickly chug some coffee, scalding my tongue a little in the process.
‘I wanted to make sure of the kind of article you’re writing. You have a really nice way with words, Bailey.’
I don’t know Beth well enough for her opinion to mean anything, but somehow it does.
She seems intelligent and measured, and the fact she’s done a deep dive on my writing and is impressed makes me feel like I’ve just won a medal.
She doesn’t know anything about my journalistic pedigree, who my dad is, the claims I’ve had to fight against all my life. Her judgement is based purely on me.
‘I look forward to reading it. Do you need anything more from me?’
I tap my pen against the notepad and shake my head. ‘I guess I’ll go in search of my next victim.’
‘Try Nash first. He’ll be heading back to the city this afternoon, so this’ll be your last chance. At least before the event. He’ll be coming to that, obviously.’
‘Great, thanks,’ I say, moving toward the front door.
‘And Bailey, honey?’ I pause, waiting for her to continue. ‘You should probably speak with Ash Callahan too.’
‘Who’s he?’
‘She’s a neighbour—lived across the road all her life, ran around like a wild thing with Beau most of that time too. They’re close—she’ll have some good stories for you. Let me know if you need her number.’
Those icy fingers are back, tightening their grip on me, making it so all of a sudden I can hardly breathe.
It’s Kirk’s fault. This is one of the ways he’s shaped me, making me suspicious when I don’t need to be.
Besides, what does it matter that Beau has a neighbour who’s also a close friend? ‘Oh, okay. Yeah—I’ll let you know.’