Hell on Heels (18 page)

Beau was a steady high.

Sitting up, I twisted in my seat to look at him. “Tell me something imperfect about you.”

He was smiling that boyish grin he had that I adored, but also, he was frowning with his eyebrows. “What?”

Leaning forward, I rested my palms on his chest. “You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever known. Tell me something that makes you human.”

He laughed, and I kissed the hard lines along his jaw. “I’m hardly perfect, Charleston.”

“You are,” I corrected him.

He was.

Beau was the catch of the century in so many ways.

I continued to be more and more smitten with him each and every time we went out.

Part of me was worried he had no imperfections at all, which was terrifying for someone as flawed as me.

“No one is perfect,” he told me, and yet, I still did not believe him.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tipped my head up for a kiss, but stopped just before his lips. “Make me believe you.”

“I’ll oblige…” His sentence was interrupted by the driver, whose name I’d learned was Carlos, as he retracted the privacy screen and spoke, looking into the rear-view mirror.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but you have an urgent call.” Carlos paused. “It’s your mother.”

Beau reached through the window and took the phone Carlos held out to him.

“Good evening, Mother,” he spoke formally but fondly into the receiver.

I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end of the call. All I could tell was it had to have been bad with the way Beau’s face paled.

“Do the doctors know anything yet?” He seemed worried, so I slipped my hand into his free one and squeezed.

He squeezed back.

“I’ll be on the next flight out of YVR,” he told her. “I love you, too.”

Then he passed the phone back through the retracted privacy screen to Carlos.

“I’ve been instructed by Jason to take you home first, sir. It’s closer than Miss Smith’s apartment, and they’re fuelling the jet for you now.”

Beau nodded. “Very well, thank you, Carlos.”

He turned to me as Carlos lifted the screen once more. “My father had a heart attack.” I let go of his hand and held him around his torso instead. “They were vacationing in Lake Louise, but he’s been airlifted to the hospital in Calgary.”

“I’m so sorry, Beau,” I whispered, and my stomach sunk.

Loss was an ugly, ugly thing. I hoped a soul as pretty as Beau’s wouldn’t have to bear that burden tonight.

“The doctors don’t know anything yet, but I need to go see him.”

I looked up to him and nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

“I’ll likely be gone a few days. Someone will need to be there for Mom and the girls.”

During our dates, I’d learned Beau had three sisters, all of which were younger than him by a margin and admired him greatly.

He was a family man.

“Once he takes me to the estate, Carlos will take you home.”

I kissed his lips softly. “Don’t worry about me. I can take a cab.”

Beau shook his head. “I like for you to be taken care of.”

“I know.” I smiled.

“So let me.” He seemed like he was asking for something, something he needed from me but couldn’t quite find the words to say in that moment, so I nodded again.

“Okay.”

We drove in silent contemplation over the Lions Gate Bridge until we approached a set of impressive wrought iron gates to an estate along the shore of West Vancouver.

I’d never been to Beau’s home before, but if the driveway was anything to go by, I suspected it was something rather amazing.

I was right.

There, looking right over the bay and Stanley Park, was a two-story impressive yet not imposing home that fit Beau’s personality perfectly. The lines of the building were all clean and modern. Black and grey made up the colour scheme, and skilfully worked into the clean lines was a stone chimney that ran up the side of the building and extended a few feet past the edge of the roof.

It was brilliant.

It was elegant and inviting.

It was Beau.

Carlos pulled the town car up and parked it outside the entrance. It was only then that I noticed the black SUV that parked behind us.

I turned around and saw Jason fold out of the driver’s side.

Beau slid out of his seat before offering his hand to me. I always took his hand and he helped me out of the car.

He stood in front of me in his driveway, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. “I’m so sorry to leave you like this.” He frowned. It was so exactly like him to be worried about me when something had happened to him. “Carlos will drive you home. I’ve got to pack and get to the airport.”

I nodded, and the front door opened before I could answer.

“I’ll take her.”

My eyes moved to see Maverick in another black fitted Henley, cargo pants, the kind only army men wore, and boots walking towards us.

“Hart,” Jason acknowledged him.

“MacLean.” Maverick did the same in return.

Beau looked to him as he approached, and then recognition slid over his features. “Security check?”

Maverick nodded.

“Of course,” Beau agreed.

“Carlos will drive both you and Jason to the airport so he can accompany you to Calgary.” Maverick spoke directly to the men, and he never once looked at me while he did it.

“That’s settled then.” Beau turned his attention back to me. “Hart will take you home.”

The idea of being trapped alone in a car with Maverick for thirty minutes made me nervous, but still, I said, “Okay.”

I didn’t want to be difficult for Beau.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and gently pulled me to him. “Call you when I get back?”

“Okay.” I smiled, and his lips found mine in a sweet kiss.

It turned out that maybe the thing that made Beau Callaway human was that his life, like the rest of ours, was unpredictable and sometimes very, very sad.

“Fly safe,” I said as our lips parted. “I’ll pray for your father.”

Beau picked me up and spun me around in a half circle. “Goodnight, Charleston.”

He set my feet back on the ground and transferred me to Maverick, who led me to the other black SUV with his hand at the small of my back.

I looked up the driveway and watched as Beau disappeared into his house before pulling at the door handle for the backseat. It was locked.

Maverick laughed from behind me, and I turned to see what was so funny.

He looked at my hand on the door. “I’m not Carlos, Princess.” He shook his head. “And this ain’t a taxi.”

I was a little in my head then. Something about the evening’s mood had sunk. So, I didn’t respond.

This seemed to catch him off guard and his expression softened. Reaching past me, he pulled open the door to the passenger seat. “Up front, babe.”

“Okay.” I climbed into the seat and Maverick shut the door behind me.

I watched as he stalked around the hood of the vehicle, his massive frame eventually settling into the driver’s side next to me. I noted with vague interest that he had the seat back as far as it could go just to fit his body behind the wheel.

Kicking my boots off, I tucked my legs up under me and leaned into the door with my head on the glass.

“Seat belt,” Maverick barked, but it lacked his usual belt.

I didn’t move.

I was retreating into my mind.

He reached over, wrapped his hand around the bicep closest to him, and pulled my body upright. “Princess. Seat belt. Now.”

I glared through the windshield, but went through the motions and leaned back into my original position against the door, shivering when my cheek pressed against the cold glass.

Maverick, satisfied that I was buckled down, drove up the driveway. He stopped, pressing a button on the rear-view mirror, and the gates started to open. While he waited, I saw him twist his large body out of the corner of my eye and reach into the backseat.

“Here.” He draped what looked to be a man’s ski jacket over my thighs.

I glanced over to him and used one hand to pull the jacket up my torso, but still, I didn’t say anything.

The gates opened wide enough for the SUV to fit through, and Maverick turned us out onto the road. We drove for barely a beat, when he spoke again.

“You’re scared.”

It was dark outside. All I saw were the faint lights of houses as we passed. “No,” I told the glass.

“Yes you are,” he accused and turned left. “You’re practically shielding in yourself from me right now.”

Sighing, I closed my eyes and whispered, “I don’t want to fight with you.”

He ignored me. “What are you so afraid of all the time?”

Maybe it was a moment of weakness. Maybe I was caught off guard by his kindness. I answered him honestly. “Everything,” I whispered, and my breath fogged the inside of the window.

“Hell of a way to live your life, walkin’ on eggshells.” His deep voice rolled through the cab. “Life ain’t all that scary, Princess.”

My eyelids grew heavy.

“Life’s not that scary, Charlie bear.”

So I’d been told.

I felt a brush of cold and I shivered.

“Come on, Princess.”

The sound of my seatbelt being unbuckled stirred me briefly, and my eyes opened to see Maverick standing in the open door of the SUV. “Are we here?”

He nodded and I closed my eyes again.

I was someone who fought waking like it would be the last time I ever slept.

Arms came around my back and under my knees, and I was heaved into the air with a grunt. I curled into the heat and heard the door slam shut behind us.

Women my size were rarely carried by a man, and it felt nice to feel small, even in my somewhat incoherent state.

“Access code,” he demanded, but I was already falling back asleep.

I heard him swear and smiled.

“Princess,” Maverick whispered into my ear, shaking me in his arms a little. “What’s your access code?”

“Five. Two. Eight. One. Four,” I rattled off in protest.

He growled. “You shouldn’t give your passcode to strangers.”

“You asked,” I argued into his neck.

He swore again.

I heard the subsequent peep of him punching the numbers into the keypad, and then I was enveloped by warmth again as he took us into the lobby.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

I burrowed into his chest, but said, “Mm-hm.”

He set my legs down and held me as I leaned into the wall by the elevator.

I was so, so tired.

The elevator pinged and he half guided, half lifted me inside. Pressing the number three on the panel, I swayed into his side as the lift ascended, and felt his arm squeeze around my waist.

I was too tired to question why that felt as nice as it did.

We stepped out onto my floor and he led us down the hall.

“Time to wake up now,” he said, positioning me against the wall.

I grumbled, taking my purse from his outstretched hand and fishing through it until I found my keys. After two failed attempts, Maverick took over and unlocked my door. He set the keys on the entryway table and I stumbled inside.

Dropping my purse onto the floor, I hung onto the open door.

“You’ll be okay from here?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, my eyes falling closed for a brief second. “Thanks.”

He looked at the door and scowled. “Make sure you lock the door.”

I rolled my eyes and shut the door, sliding the deadbolt in place. “It’s locked, you tight ass,” I quipped through the copper.

There was no response, just heavy footfalls moving down the hallway.

I smirked at the closed door. Charleston, one.

Bypassing the kitchen, I didn’t turn on any lights and walked directly towards the bedroom. Losing both my coat and my jeans along the way, I unhooked the back of my bra and tossed it somewhere into the abyss that was my floor. Padding half asleep into the bathroom, I turned on the shower and removed the rest of my clothes.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

I looked at my naked reflection in the mirror and widened my eyes.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“Hold your horses. Jesus,” I muttered, and grabbed the kimono from the back of the door.

I slid it over my arms as I moved, wrapping it around my middle as I hit the living room.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“I’m coming!” I hollered, doing up the tie on my robe.

The knocking started again, and now, a little pissed off and a lot tired, I threw the deadbolt back and yanked the door open.

“What?” I yelled into the wall of Maverick’s chest.

He growled. “Did you even look to see who it was?”

I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing back here?”

He held a pair of women’s sorrels with the cute fur around the top up to my face. “You left your shoes in the car.”

“Oh.” I grabbed them and tossed them onto the floor behind me.

“You’re messy.” He shook his head.

I scowled. “You’re rude.”

He smiled.

“Well, goodnight. Thanks again.” I slammed the door and flipped the lock.

Knock.

Knock.