45. Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Five
Elowen Briar
Vanilla Ice Cream For A Not So Vanilla Girl
Iwake to the cool press of a damp cloth against my skin, Beau bends over me with a steady focus. A small stack of wet washcloths and makeup wipes sit at his side.
“What are you doing?” I ask, voice husky from sleep.
He looks at me with a half smile. “I always clean up after I eat.” To subside my nervousness, he throws a wink at me.
Heat flushes through me, but the tenderness in his touch softens the moment.
He moves carefully, wiping me down as if I’m something delicate.
When he finishes, he pulls out a makeup wipe and sweeps it gently over my face until every trace of smudged mascara is gone.
“There,” he murmurs, placing the used cloth aside.
“The loft is yours to use as you see fit. The bathroom is stocked with everything you could need, but if something is missing, I can go pick it up for you, mi tesoro.” The offer makes my chest ache in a way that feels too big to hold.
I slip out of bed and pad to the shower, letting the hot water run over me until the steam blurs the glass.
The door cracks open, and Beau steps inside the room.
He doesn’t enter the shower, only leans through the end where the curtain gives way, close enough to press a quick kiss to my temple and speaks to me, “Sorry to intrude. There’s a warm towel on the sink for you. ” He says softly.
By the time I dry off, I find one of his Henley t-shirts waiting for me next to the freshly dried towel.
I slip it on, the fabric swallowing me in his scent.
A hairbrush still in the package sits on the other edge of the counter, as well as a hairdryer box.
I don’t know whether all the ordering of things for our special date night was so out of the blue now.
He had plenty of time to gather everything I might need if I happen to shower here.
When I wander into the kitchen, Beau is at the counter, scooping ice cream into a bowl. He glances up, lips quirking. “Do you like ice cream?”
“I do actually,” I say, sliding onto a barstool. “Although, not cookies and cream. I read a book once that ruined that flavor for me. Great book though! My favorite is probably Superman.”
He chuckles and sets the bowl in front of me.
“This is just regular vanilla, unfortunately. I never thought to interrogate you about ice cream flavors.” I take a bite, the simple sweetness comforting.
He leans against the counter, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“I’ll be in bed when you’re finished, unless you want to bring it with you. ”
“Did you expect me to stay?” I blink.
“I wouldn’t imagine you would go home this late,” he says matter-of-factly.
The quiet certainty of his tone unraveled the last of my hesitation. I nod, warmth spreading through me. “I’ll stay. I’ll call to ask my neighbor to check on Genie.”
I’m halfway through my bowl when I make a quick phone call to Regina telling her I won’t be home in time to walk Genie, to use her extra key to let him out for a few minutes if she doesn’t care.
She happily obliges. She has always been a huge advocate for me getting out there after Grandma Lise passed.
“Leave your house for something other than work every once and a while, Elowen! Lise will rise from her grave and haunt you if you don’t start having fun soon.
” I can hear her smirk through the phone after I tell her I’ll be back in the morning.
Later, when I carry myself back into the bedroom, Beau is propped against the headboard with a sketchpad balancing on his knee.
His brows are furrowed in concentration, pencil moving in quick strokes.
I climb onto the bed in his shirt and boxers, straddling over his lap without hesitation, snatching the pad from his hands. “What are you up to?”
He laughs, hands sliding instinctively to my hips.
“You are trouble, mi tesoro.” That same cold chill runs down my spine when he uses that nickname.
I look down at the page and still. Two silhouettes dance across the paper, their bodies locked in graceful tension.
The lines are alive, capturing more than just motion.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Like you caught something between breaths. I would love to see the sketch you did of me.”
His laughter falters, and for the first time tonight he looks flustered.
“So happy Kai decided to say that out loud. Maybe another day.” I study him, but let it go, as he closes the sketchpad.
I slip under the covers. He sets the pad aside and joins me, the mattress dipping as he settles close.
We speak softly, about little things that fill the space with comfort.
The quiet hum of the city outside, how time seems to dissolve inside these walls, how strange and sweet it felt to be here together.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, hit me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” I lean back to see his face.
“Why Norway? I understand from a tourist perspective, but I have a feeling that it’s much deeper than that.”
“It was my grandma’s dream to go. She died a few years ago. I think, in a way, going to Norway would give me closure.” I admit.
“Say no more. You’re beautiful. You know that?
” Beau smiles, brushing his fingers through my hair.
This man knows how aftercare works. Eventually my eyes grow heavy, words blurring into warmth.
I curl closer, my heart beating steady against his side.
A flutter lingers in my stomach, light and unshakable. I must have the love bug.
“One last thing,” I softly ask, sleep tugging at me. “You know that nickname you call me? Why do you call me that?”
Beau’s chest shifts with a quiet laugh. “What name?”
“Mi tesoro.” I say, rolling the r with exaggerated flair like he does. “It’s cute and all, but I have no idea what that could possibly mean.” My fingers trace lazy patterns across the tattoo on his chest, the ink stark against his cool toned skin.
God, I had been right about the GQ cover when I first met him.
“Ahhhhh. One day, I’ll tell you,” Beau insists, his lips brushing the top of my hair. A sly tilt curves his mouth. “But if you keep behaving the way you did tonight… teasing me, undoing me with every glance. Well, mi tesoro, you might just earn the truth faster than you think.”