7. Anna
Anna
B eau stepped to the side at the door to their room, motioning for her to enter first.
Anna knew what to expect as she stepped inside. An open entryway spread into the common area with a sectional sofa, a sleek television disguised as artwork, and a minibar in one corner.
It was lavish and outrageous, but nothing inside the room compared to the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows that led onto a private balcony.
Anna stepped inside and turned to study Beau. He followed her in but didn’t put their luggage down. His gaze swept over the room, and his chest rose and fell in a deep breath.
What was he thinking? His expression gave nothing away. Would he see the whole thing as outrageous—a gross waste of money?
Anna saw it that way, but Dean had expected nothing less than lavish for their honeymoon. Status mattered to him in a way it never had to her.
Setting her jaw, she pushed thoughts of Dean out of her mind. “The bedroom is this way,” she said, heading for the open door near the sofa.
Beau followed her into the room and looked around. “Where do you want your bag?”
Anna pointed to a spot beside the bed. “You can just leave it there. Thanks for bringing it up for me.”
“No problem.” He turned and started for the door.
“Where are you going?”
Beau’s brow lifted as he pointed to the common room. “The couch.”
Oh, of course. There was one bed—a king—in the large bedroom. “Well, you can leave your bag in here.”
“It’s just one night. I’ll let you have your space.”
Space. She had a lot of space in the big bedroom by herself.
“What time are the dinner reservations?” he asked.
“Seven.”
The whole interaction had her skin crawling. Why did things have to be weird?
Because she was on her honeymoon with a man who wasn’t her husband. Things were bound to be awkward .
Beau glanced around the lavish room. “What’s the dress code?”
“Business casual.” Hopefully, Olivia had prepared him for some of the nicer activities Anna had planned. If not, he could wear what he wanted and that would be it.
Beau nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.
With thirty minutes until they needed to be downstairs for dinner, Anna opened her suitcase and unfolded the garment bag. Carefully, she picked through the outfits she’d brought. The sleek, white gown she’d intended to wear tonight mocked her as she pushed it aside.
Every piece of clothing she’d packed had been sent by boutiques from all over the world. Her agreement with each boutique stated she would wear the free clothing and share photos on social media in exchange.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she stared down at the dresses, sweaters, and coats. She couldn’t wear any of it, and she’d have to send every piece back. If pictures circulated of her on her honeymoon with another man, it would do more harm than anything.
The outfit she had on would have to do. Shoving off her coat, she tossed it onto the bed and stepped in front of the large mirror by the closet.
Her hair needed attention, but the fitted, scoop-neck sweater would have to do.
The blush color highlighted the blue in her eyes, and the tailored charcoal slacks gave the outfit a business casual air.
The crushing silence settled on her shoulders. Who cared what she looked like? Everything seemed so unimportant in retrospect. She wanted a warm meal and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. As if that would make today disappear.
Opening the bedroom door in a rush, she stopped short when she spotted Beau lowering his arms after removing his shirt.
Thankfully, the white undershirt he wore was still tucked securely into the waist of his jeans or else she would have witnessed a real show.
It had been a while since she’d seen him in a short-sleeve shirt—at least a few months. Had his shirts always pulled tight over his shoulders and back?
“Um… sorry. I should have knocked or something,” she sputtered.
Beau tossed his shirt onto his duffel bag and grabbed a gray button-up. “Just changing shirts. What’s up?”
“I was thinking we could see if they’ll seat us early for dinner. If you want.”
Beau gave her his signature nod, and that was all. As much as she loved to talk, his simple gestures were much better than Dean’s constant protests and complaints .
Three minutes later, Beau was dressed in a gray button-up and black slacks.
Okay, so the man could pull off grease monkey and urban chic. His olive skin paired with thick, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard was the perfect mixture of masculinity and style. He’d be a great model if she ever decided to expand her social media platform to include men’s fashion.
As if Beau Lawrence would ever agree to be her model. He’d never commented on her influencer status, but he probably thought it was silly.
Fireside was the most formal of the three restaurants in the resort. The dark ambiance was broken up by white tablecloths spread throughout the room and flickering candlelight. The dark night through the large windows featured the Rocky Mountains bathed in the glow of the moon.
A host wearing all black greeted them with a subdued smile. “Good evening.”
“Reservation for Lawrence,” Beau said, stepping up beside her.
Lawrence? She’d booked the reservation under Dean’s name, assuming she’d be Mrs. Simmons tonight.
“Right this way,” the host said as he gestured toward the dining room.
Leaning closer to Beau’s side, Anna whispered, “Lawrence? ”
“Olivia texted earlier that she changed all of your reservations into my name.”
Anna lifted her chin as she wove through the dining room. Olivia had outdone herself. All of her friends had come through today. What could have been an awful day was reminding her of all her blessings.
The host recounted the specials and quietly slipped away.
Despite the gentle gnawing in her stomach, Anna couldn’t tear her attention from the beautiful view. Snowflakes slowly drifted to the ground in front of a peaceful mountain scene.
Beau didn’t look up from the menu until a young waiter appeared beside their table. “I’m Grayson, and I’ll be at your service this evening. Can I start you off with a glass of our house wine?” He showcased the bottle as if it were a priceless relic that belonged in a museum.
After they both declined the wine and requested water, the waiter took the wine glasses from the table. “Do you have any questions about the menu?”
“I don’t. What about you?” she asked.
Beau shook his head and lowered his menu.
Hmm. Everything on the menu appealed to her in some way. Deciding would be difficult.
Beau’s hand slapped onto the table, and Anna jerked, startled by the thud and the rattling of the glass candle holder in the center of the table .
The breath halted in her chest as her attention jerked up to Beau. His stern expression had her heart pounding, but his focus was fixated on the young waiter.
“Eyes up here, buddy.”
The waiter’s eyes widened, and the wine glasses he held in one hand clinked together. “I—I’ll just give you some time to look over the menu.”
The terrified man sped toward the kitchen as if Beau might come after him. Couples turned in their seats to find out the cause of the commotion.
Anna leaned forward, pressing the menu to her chest. “What was that?”
“He was looking down your shirt,” Beau explained as he resumed browsing the menu.
Her neck and cheeks heated as she glanced down at the scoop neck of her sweater. It wasn’t a revealing top, but from the waiter’s angle, he probably had a nice view of her cleavage.
“You’re kidding,” she whispered as the heat spread up to her ears. She took great pains to make sure her clothing was modest and tasteful. She hadn’t thought twice about the sweater. It seemed safe enough.
“Wish I was,” Beau mumbled, engrossed in the descriptions of the food printed in front of him.
The people around them lost interest, but Anna’s heart still pounded as if she’d tripped in front of everyone in the restaurant. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Beau still didn’t look up. “It’s not your fault he decided to ogle you. Men are pigs.”
The tension in Anna’s forehead eased, and the ache in her chest lessened. Beau’s defense of her might have drawn too much attention, but at least he’d been looking out for her. Maybe Olivia had been right to suggest he come along on the trip.
“All men? Are you a pig too?” she asked with a grin.
“I’m ordering the mud pie,” he said dryly.
A chuckle bubbled up her throat before she could stop it. The more she tried to rein it in, the more forceful the laughter became.
Beau looked up as she pressed a hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t hold it back. His self-deprecating joke let loose a different kind of hysteria than she’d been trying and failing to hold at bay.
A slow smile lifted on Beau’s lips as she covered her face with the menu. People were starting to stare again, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
The phone in her purse rang, slowly sucking the joy out of the moment. Swiping away the moisture from her eyes with one hand, she reached for her purse with the other.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Beau said.
When she glanced at the screen, the name facing her made her blood run cold. “It’s my mom. ”
Beau was back to his intensely interesting menu, but he wasn’t so engrossed that he ignored her. “You still don’t have to answer it.”
But the pull to do as she’d always done was more than she could bear. She’d never ignored her parents. She’d never disobeyed.
The crushing truth crashed down on her. Even all of her loyalty and responsibility hadn’t been enough to make them loosen the chains. Anna was twenty-eight years old, and her mother still told her what to do and demanded obedience.
She’d also never made them proud. Graduating with honors, working as an associate in the family law firm, winning cases—none of it was enough.
Despite her best efforts, her mother was probably livid and ready to burst on the other side of the phone call.
“Want me to do something about that?” Beau asked.