ChapterFive
Beau
At Poly Esters club, he and Kyle wound their way through the crowd to a bar lit with ropes of neon lighting. The beat of the music was so strong he could feel it through his boots.
After everything that went down today, he needed a drink. Besides, he owed Kyle a shot for almost giving him a concussion when he ass-planted him on the floor. Though Kyle was his uncle, he was less than ten years Beau’s senior, making him feel more like a brother.
As the lights flashed across the dance floor, his thoughts drifted toward Bobbie and the picture she held of her mother. The pain he saw in her eyes was palpable and raw. He understood that kind of pain and her profound dedication to her mother. He understood her need to fight because he had the exact needs. They were both victims of terrorism. His company had dished out a horrific dose of environmental terrorism, of which she was a victim, and his life had been changed irreversibly on a fateful September day.
The music died down between sets, and Kyle spoke. “What’s spinning around in your head? I can see the cogs turning.” He picked up the shots they ordered and tossed one back.
“I was thinking about Bobbie and her fight against Aspen.” He glanced down at the brown liquid in his glass. Like his mind, nothing was clear tonight. “They were wrong. It’s surprising they can do business in this state at all.” Until Bobbie held the sign with her mother above her head, it was just a story, but now a face was attached to it, and it became real.
“It happens all the time. They just open under a new partner, and like magic, everything goes away.” Kyle motioned for another round. “Drink up.”
The whiskey was like liquid fire and burned from his throat to his stomach. “Pete told me to get rid of Bobbie. It’s not like I’m encouraging her, but I like her. It feels like a conflict of interest.” The second shot didn’t burn; it warmed him much like Bobbie did by her presence.
“Pete doesn’t get to choose who you date.”
“Whoa, dude, I’m not dating her. I haven’t even kissed her. Not an actual kiss.” The thought of kissing her for real was appealing. Her lips pressed to his, and her body molded against him. He liked that thought too much.
“What the hell are you waiting for?” Kyle watched the dance floor. “You and I know better than anyone that life isn’t full of infinite minutes. You’ll never have enough, so use the ones you’ve got. Don’t let a single minute pass without purpose.”
Kyle had had something going with a secretary at Westhaven, but Beau had never asked or brought it up. He wondered whether he’d tried to find her while the tower was burning around them and whether he’d blamed himself for surviving when she died.
“Man, she and I come from different places,” he said. “She wants to destroy what I’m trying to create. How in the hell would that work?”
“It doesn’t have to work out for more than the few minutes you’d spend between her legs.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’m a realist.” Kyle rose from his seat. “See those two.” He pointed to two girls dancing together. “I want to dance with them and be the meat in their sandwich, but I’ll never know what’s possible until I do it.” Kyle tossed a twenty on the bar and headed in the girls’ direction.
And that’s how Kyle was: he taught by example, and his lesson today was that life is short—dive in. Beau pulled a twenty from his wallet and slid it toward the bartender. He wasn’t feeling the club scene, especially when there was a little diner a few blocks away that made his favorite pie.
* * *
Bobbie
She had watched the door all night. Each time the bell jingled, she looked up, hoping to find a handsome construction worker standing in perfectly fitting jeans and a T-shirt that strained to cover his chest muscles. By eight o’clock, she’d given up hope he would come.
They were probably opposites in their convictions, but an undeniable tug pulled her toward him. He made her stomach flutter, and something magical happened when his lips brushed against hers. Life energy filled her for the first time since her mother died. The problem was that he was the enemy. Or at least he represented the enemy, and that would never do.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat in the seat he had occupied the night before. Had it only been a day? So much had transpired that it seemed like a lifetime had passed.
When the bell on the door sounded, she didn’t turn to see who had entered. “Take a seat anywhere. I’ll be right with you.”
No one replied, but there was an energy that crackled silently around her. She stiffened when a man’s hands gripped her shoulders, and his breath brushed against her neck. She inhaled his scent, and after today, she’d never forget it. Beau smelled of cinnamon and something woodsy. A pure male essence made the space between her thighs throb, another sign that something profound had changed. She hadn’t had a date or any interest in men in years.
“You’re late,” she said.
“We had a date?” His question floated across her ear and sent shivers down her spine. “I didn’t know.”
“No, but I thought you’d come.” She turned her head to him and let his lips brush slowly across her cheek. He was inches from her mouth, and when his fingers left her shoulders, the loss of his heat disappeared immediately. She liked the way his hands were on her—the way his breath skittered across her skin. How would it feel to have his palms roam her entire body?
Beau slid onto the next stool and leaned on the counter with one elbow while his body turned toward her.
“I came because I heard you offer the best pie.” He captured a strand of hair falling across her face and tucked it behind her ear. “I want more of what you’re offering.” His soft voice made her insides coil and pulse. She wanted more, too.