Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6) (12 page)

Stop it, you imbecilic horn dog. This is Christian, your friend, who deserves respect.

And he did respect her, never more than when she wrapped her mouth around him and slid her tongue just so …

 “Beau, are you all right? Is it your back?” Christian frowned and looked concerned in that old way.

Snap out of it.
Snap, yes. That’s exactly how she felt when she convulsed around him. Had anyone else ever said his name against his ear quite like Christian did as she peaked and quaked?

Peaked and quaked?
What kind of man talk was that? Where had he even gotten that? He’d probably dreamed it, and no wonder. Every night since he’d been at Beauford Bend, he’d gone to sleep wanting her like he’d never wanted anything.

Until now. Being alone in bed, thinking about her, was one thing. Being in the room with her was something else again.

“Beau! Are you in pain?”

Oh, yes, I am, baby, but not the kind you think. Come here and ease it. Let me pound into you …

He had to stop.

“No. I’m okay. Much better. The physical therapy is really working. I’m almost down to no pain pills. We might even be able to have a drink together soon.”

Why did she look so sad?

“Yes, soon.” She tried to look happier, but didn’t quite bring it off.

“I came to tell you something. I’m leaving town.”

Her face froze and went completely white. “When?”

“This afternoon.”

“I see.” She picked up a pen from her desk. “How did Jackson take it?”

Ah, hell. She thought he was leaving for good. And maybe he should. Maybe he would. But not yet.

“Jackson arranged it. I’m going to Merritt to live with Will Garrett for a month. He’s going to teach me woodworking. I’ll be back. If all goes well, he’ll take me as an apprentice, and I’ll drive down periodically. He’ll come here sometimes, if he thinks I’m worth it.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath and nodded. She looked relieved. That was good news. “I’m glad. What about your physical therapy while you’re there?”

“I know what to do on my own. Will’s friend is the high school football coach, and I’m going to be able to use the team’s equipment.”

“This sounds like a good thing for you. I’m excited for you.”

“I’m excited, too.” And he was. It was the first thing that had excited him since the accident. Well, except for the soft, tender flesh between—
Stop it!
“I don’t know where this is leading, or if it can lead anywhere. But it’s something I want to try.” Then he had a great idea, something that would please her. “I’ll make you something. Maybe. If I can.”

Christian smiled. “I’d like that.”

“What do you like? The trying or the actually producing something?”

She laughed that golden, spirit-healing laugh, and just for a second, all seemed right with the world. “Both.” Then she looked serious. “Beau, this will be good for us, too—your being away. The awkward phase will pass, and when you get back, we’ll be us again.”

“Does that mean we can’t talk while I’m gone?”

She sighed and hesitated, like she was trying to make her mind up.

“No. We’ll talk. We should. Besides, I’ve missed you.”

He stood. “I’ve missed you, too. I’m glad we got this cleared up before I left.”

Christian nodded. “Me, too.”

He stepped behind her desk and pulled her to her feet. “Hug goodbye?”

She smiled and went into his arms. “Sure.”

To Beau’s surprise, he found more comfort in that embrace than lust—though the lust wouldn’t need much of an invitation. He kissed her temple like he’d done for a thousand goodbyes.

“Christian, let’s not ever do anything that will put us in an awkward phase again.”

“Yes. Let’s not.”

One Month Later

By day, Miss Laura’s Tearoom and Gossip Parlor was exactly what one would expect from a Victorian tearoom—bone china teapots, delicate nibbles, and soft, dreamy music.

But by night, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the front shutters were closed, the front door was locked, and it became a private club for the women of Beauford, who entered by the back door. The tea served was of the Long Island variety, and the music was a mixture of country, old and new, and classic rock. The menu varied, depending on Laura’s whim, but it was the same for every table. Instead of cucumber sandwiches, scones, and tiny fruit tarts, what came out on the three-tiered servers were things like pulled pork sliders, individual servings of crab imperial, fried macaroni and cheese bites, ramekins of turnip greens, and slabs of chocolate cake—food that a woman who had worked hard all day could relish.

And it was only for the women of Beauford. Laura saw this as a gift to those who knocked themselves out all day catering to the tourists who allowed them all to earn a living. Not that the food and libation was free. Laura was nothing if not a good businesswoman; they all were and could, therefore, pay for a night away from reality. If a tourist occasionally sensed there was something going on inside under the pink and white striped awning and knocked on the door, they were always told there was a private party in progress.

That wasn’t completely a lie. This felt more like a party to Christian than an ordinary Tuesday night in February—not a party like an it’s-the-end-of-the-world bash, but an I’m-glad-to-be-alive-after-being-in-mourning celebration.

And she had been in mourning—mourning for what might have been, mourning for the part of her friendship with Beau that would never be quite the same for her, and mourning from missing him.

But things were better now. True to their word, she and Beau had spoken often over the last month until their conversations lost all traces of awkwardness. Life was taking shape again. A large party had just checked out of Firefly Hall, leaving Christian with a light schedule for a few days. She and Noel were planning a baby shower for Emory at the end of the month.

And here she was at Miss Laura’s with her best friends.

Laura appeared and filled everyone’s water glasses. Laura loved Valentine’s Day and always got into the spirit as soon as January passed. Tonight, there were little pink hearts on her lacy apron. “Is everyone up for chocolate covered cherry martinis?”

A resounding cheer went up from the table, and Christian happily joined in.

“Not me,” Emory said with a sigh. “Someday.” But there was so much love and happiness in her face, that no one thought she truly lamented the lost cocktail. “But brighten my day. Tell me what we get to eat tonight.”

“Let’s see.” Laura placed a hand on her hip and looked very pleased with herself. “Ramekins of crab and corn soup, stuffed beef tenderloin rolls, marinated asparagus tips, heart-shaped cheese biscuits, chocolate covered strawberries, and individual red velvet cheesecakes.”

Everyone applauded. “Who cares about the liquor?” Emory said.

“I do,” Neyland said. “I care.”

“Tell me all the news,” Noel said. “I feel like it’s been a year since I’ve seen everyone.”

“I know,” Abby said. “How was the quilt show?”

“Great. But then I flew directly to St. Louis to watch Nickolai play, so I feel like I’ve been gone forever.” She looked at Christian. “So has Bryant called?”

That was the damnedest thing. He had. And he kept calling.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“So, when are you going out with him?” Gwen asked.

“I’m not. He’s emotionally unavailable. He said so himself. He’s proud of it.” Though to be honest, if she had wanted a date—which she did not—an emotionally unavailable man would be the only kind she’d want. She was doing great now, but she had nothing left to give. And you couldn’t expect anything if you weren’t going to give.

“All men think they’re emotionally unavailable,” Noel said. “He doesn’t even know what that means. He probably heard it on television. He watches Hallmark movies.”

“Get out!” Neyland said.

“I swear.” Noel held up her hand.

“I don’t seem to remember Nickolai being unavailable emotionally or any other way,” Christian said.

Noel blushed. “No. I was the idiot in that that scenario. But enough about me. How’s Beau? When’s he coming home?”

“He’s good,” Emory said. “Really good. Will has been encouraging, though he hasn’t told him for sure if he’ll work with him. Beau is hopeful, but who knows? That Will is an odd one. Physically, Beau’s better and better. I believe he’ll be home Friday. Is that right, Christian?”

“He said Friday or Saturday.” And she’d be glad to see him—in the old way, when she expected nothing more than friendship. Would there be longing? Sure. But there always had been. Probably always would be.

“So what’s next for him?” Noel asked.

Emory shrugged. “We’re all afraid to ask, but he seems to love the woodworking.”

“Maybe he’ll be the next Beauford artisan,” Neyland suggested. “Though he’s got some time to put in.”

“Jackson is all excited,” Emory said. “He wants to set him up with a workshop at Beauford Bend. I’ve convinced him not to forge on with this.”

That was a relief.

“Guess who came into Piece by Piece asking about him,” Neyland said. “Mary Charles McAnnally, formerly Mary Charles McAnnally Carson. She’s got a brand new divorce. They didn’t have kids, so she took her maiden name back.”

No. Not the prom date stealer. Anybody but her. Okay, no. Not anybody. It had to be nobody, at least for now, preferably forever. Christian knew she would never have him. Logically, she knew someone would, but not now. She needed time, had to have time.

Gwen frowned a trying-to-remember kind of frown. “Didn’t they date in high school, Christian?”

“Yes.” She hoped the tightness in her chest didn’t come out in her voice. “If I remember right, most of senior year. They broke up right after prom, I think.”

Though there was no question. That’s exactly what had happened. Word at the time was Mary Charles had broken up with Beau the first time because she’d wanted to date a Vanderbilt freshman. But apparently that had fallen through, and she’d wanted Beau back just in time for prom. A week after being crowned prom queen, she’d dumped him again. Beyond a hurt ego, it really hadn’t affected Beau all that much. One girl was as good as the next for him. But it had certainly given Christian a spring to remember.

“I figured if nothing else, it would do his ego some good, so I told her to call him when he gets back,” Neyland said.

Thank you, Neyland. Thank you for being my good, loyal friend.
Though there was nothing fair about that. Neyland didn’t know.

Christian felt eyes on her. She looked up to see Noel regarding her with a worried look, making it clear she’d never believed that Christian’s feelings for Beau were limited to friendship. Christian visualized herself leaping onto the table and screaming, “I’m over him, damn it!”

Of course, that wouldn’t do, but she needed to laugh, to say something. If she didn’t, she might cry. The laugh sounded natural enough. Now to vocalize the thought that had supposedly amused her so.

“One thing about Beau that doesn’t need help is his ego.”

Though it really wasn’t funny, everyone laughed. Good, good.

“True.”

“He is a Beauford, after all.”

“If his ego did suffer, all he’d have to do is look in the mirror.”

Christian wasn’t even sure who said which thing. She met Neyland’s eyes. “But that’s a good idea. He’d probably like to hear from Mary Charles.” Good. Almost home. They would never know how she felt, how she was coming apart. Well, all except Noel. And she didn’t know for sure. Even if she did, she’d never tell.

“I’m pretty sure after all this time, a little sex might be in order. Beau never was one for the monastery life,” Gwen said.

Christian’s head literally started to buzz. She could hear it. Was there no end to the torture? How could she ever have likened this little hell gathering to a party?

“Chocolate covered cherry martinis!” Laura appeared with her tray and passed the drinks around.

About damned time. Christian clutched her glass like it was her last remaining line of hope to keep her from floating into deep space. And it might be. She looked at the pink creamy drink with the chocolate swirl on the surface. She picked up the stem of the chocolate covered cherry that was floating on top. She needed the alcohol for sure, and maybe the chocolate would help. Wasn’t it supposed to stimulate endorphins and make you feel better immediately? She didn’t really believe that, but she was desperate. Unlike most people, chocolate wasn’t usually her first flavor choice. She could take it or leave it, unless she was having her period. Then look out. Last time, she had eaten two entire solid chocolate Santas while writing her Christmas cards. She’d gotten smudges on a few and had had to do them over.

She went cold.

Writing her Christmas cards. December fourteenth. She always did them on the fourteenth, a full week before the United Postal Service said they needed to be mailed, so as not to be late.

Suddenly,
late
took on a whole new meaning, and she went from cold to hot to frozen. The chocolate covered cherry seemed to be suspended in midair in front of her mouth for no reason. She dropped it back in her drink. No. She wasn’t that stupid. It couldn’t have been that long.

But it had been. Stress. That was it. That had to be it. Yes. Stress caused all kinds of hell on earth.

Though, deep down, she knew better. The fatigue and the nausea she had attributed to a broken heart, the ache in her breasts she had blamed on longing for the hands and mouth that they would never feel again.

Stupid. She
was
that stupid, and worse.

She pushed her drink away.

“I’ve never taken an apprentice before.”

Beau sat across the table from Will Garrett at Lou Ann’s Diner in Merritt, Alabama.
Before.
Will had said
before.

That was a good sign. At first, Beau hadn’t known what to think of Will. Talented as he was, he could be downright weird with his talk about letting the wood speak to you and how you should never take a commission that brought negative energy with it. But after a time, Beau began to understand what being one with the wood meant. Likewise, when Will insisted they visit a church that he had been asked to restore, Beau understood about the negative energy, too. It needed the work but the structure, built in 1897, was beautiful. Though Will had told him nothing in advance, not even that he’d turned the job down, everything about the place was oppressive.