Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

Holy hell.

And then patted a rounded, obviously pregnant, belly.

Shit. Triplets. Forest was engaged to Betty’s sister, the hockey girl if he was thinking straight. He just hadn’t expected them to look so much like…triplets.

“Beau?”

“Yeah,” he barked into the phone.

“She’s trouble. Christ, for a while there she was a regular on TMZ and just because she’s disappeared from the scene doesn’t mean she’s still not into it.”

“Why the hell do you watch that shit?”

“Look, I’m just saying. What’s this about?”

Beau’s eyes were trained on Logan and Betty’s sister. Her feelings for the guy were plastered to her face and told everyone that he was hers. The two of them murmured to each other and maybe Beau was acting like a sick pervert, but he couldn’t stop staring.

Something curled inside him when Logan reached down and slid his mouth across Betty’s sister, while pulling her in close, his hand still on her belly—a protective and intimate gesture.

“I want her,” he said without thinking.

“What?” Tucker barked. “Fuck me, but mom will hit the roof. Christ the last time you dated a model or actress or whatever the hell that girl was, I thought mom was going to have a heart attack. And Jack? I’m sure he’ll have something to say about this, or at least his advisors will.”

“Tucker. You know I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks when it comes to the women I sleep with, but you’ve got it wrong.”

“This should be good.”

Beau’s mouth tightened. He really needed to have an intense conversation with his brother when he finally made it up to Muskoka. Arrogant son-of-a-bitch.

“I want her for a role. She’s perfect.”

“Uh huh.”

Scowling, Beau slid his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. “I’m serious. That’s it. Nothing more.”

“Since when does she act?”

Yeah. Well, he couldn’t fault his brother there.

Beau thought of the audition tape he’d stumbled across while searching back through several others looking for another actress’s take. The audition had been done for a movie he’d made a few years back. Betty had come in for the lead and everyone knew it was because she was screwing the director.

She never had a chance.

But from what he’d seen, the tape had been brilliant. Hell, it had been more than brilliant. He thought of the raw emotion, the subtle nuances in her performance—the way her eyes widened, just so, and then dropped down. She would have killed the role.

Beau often wondered what it was that she’d tapped into, what dark currents were concealed beneath her skin, for her to get that much emotion across. It went without saying that the camera loved her, but acting was a hell of a lot more than posing for pictures.

Betty Jo Barker had that something. It wasn’t describable—there was no technique for it—it just was. She was a natural.

Beau had seen it but apparently no one else had, or at the very least, no one was willing to take the chance on a difficult model with a colorful past who’d all of a sudden decided that she was an actress.

She’d been given a small role, a stripper killed off early in the film. But then things had gotten, complicated, and she’d been fired.

That was on Beau. Maybe he was hoping to make it up to her.

He ignored Tucker’s question. “Look, I gotta go. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be hanging around New Waterford, at least for a few more days.”

“Brother, I hope you know what you’re doing.”