walk up my front path.
Beau scowls as he hitches his backpack onto his shoulder. His eyes pierce mine. “I see I should have called.”
I have imagined this a thousand times. Dreamed and fantasized about Beau turning up on my doorstep. Every time, I’ve been inside and have opened my arched door to find him smiling down at me.
In none of my fantasies has he opened with I see I should have called.
“Huh?”
In none of my fantasies do I open with Huh?
This is going swimmingly so far.
Beau’s scowl etches deeper, and he jerks his chin toward Laird. “You found someone else,” he says, matter-of-factly. “That was bound to happen. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”
I blink at him. He’s so beautiful. Just so beautiful. And why are we talking about my personal trainer?
“Of course I found someone else. I need motivation and discipline.” I sweep my hand up and down my body. “This isn’t going to take care of itself.”
Beau chokes.
“Erm, Irris?” Laird hoarse whispers. “I dunnaw think—”
“And I like having someone here at night,” I add. “I got used to it in Lafayette.”
Beau’s jaw tightens. His nostrils flare.
“Irris,” Laird hisses. “Purrhaps I shood intrroduce meself.”
Where are my manners? Probably where my hands itch to be. Down Beau’s pants.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Laird, this is Beau Landry.” I gesture to the man I love who, for some reason, is glaring at me like I just set him on fire. “Beau, this is Laird Sutherland.”
Still steadying me with one hand, Laird offers his other to Beau. “I worrk forr Irris.” He beats his r’s twice in each word. I’m used to it, but I watch Beau’s eyes narrow.
“You what?” He doesn’t touch Laird’s hand. It’s kind of rude.
“I worrk forr Irris,” Laird says again, not much clearer than the first time. “I’m Rramon’s rreplacement.”
Beau’s eyes flash, and I swear, he does a double-take. Laird. To me. To Laird’s hand on my arm. Back to me.
“You. Work. For. Iris,” Beau says, enunciating each word as though testing the truth of it.
“Yes,” Laird says.
Beau isn’t scowling anymore. “You’re Ramon’s replacement,” he echoes.
“Yes.” He chuckles with what sounds like relief.
“Ramon neglected to mention that,” Beau mutters, and then his hand shoots out and grabs Laird’s. He pumps it hard, beaming now. “Nice to meet you, Laird.”
Ramon? This morning’s phone call with my two best friends takes on a whole new meaning. I gasp. “Oh my God—”
“Yeah.” Beau aims his smile on me.
“You thought—”
“Yeah.” His smile turns bashful. “Serves me right. I should have called. Especially after…”
After ignoring all my calls. It’s my turn to scowl.
“Yeah,” I say, but far less warmly than he just did.
Laird releases my arm. “Irris, if you don’t need anythin—”
“I’m good, Laird,” I clip, never taking my eyes off Beau.
“I’ll be in the ba—”
“Thanks.”
When the giant Scotsman disappears behind the hedges on the side of the house, I take a moment to process the last three minutes.
“You’re here,” I say carefully.
For the record, I want to be thrilled that he’s here. But I’m also seriously pissed at him. And I’m a little miffed with Ramon and Sally. How could they be in on this and say nothing to me? But I’ll have to deal with them later.
“I’m here,” Beau says, grinning.
I blink. The grin is all-powerful. I’ve missed him so much. I blink again just to make sure I’m not imagining this.
But I’m still pissed, and I’ve never imagined that either. This has to be real.
“Why are you here?” My voice wavers on the question. I grip the edge of the archway for support. I’m afraid of what he’ll say. Seeing him now makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to handle watching him walk away again. He’s carrying a backpack. That’s all. Not even a suitcase. Did he fly five hours across the country for a weekend visit?
If he did—if that’s all we get—would I actually turn him down?
His grin slips. “Was it a mistake to come?”
My stomach plunges. “You didn’t answer my question.”
God, I can’t do this. I can’t let him back inside just to leave me again.
Beau’s brows draw together. “You’re going pale. Are you okay?” he asks, stepping closer. He reaches out a hand, but I hold up my own to stop him. I can’t. I can’t let him touch me.
He halts. “Have you eaten? Do we need to go inside?”
“A-answer th-the question.” My words rattle like a tea set on a garbage truck. “Why are you here?”
Beau’s dark eyes blaze against mine. His