Beau pocketed his cell. He knew what he was doing. This script that he’d written…it was everything to him. It was his baby and he would do whatever it took to make it work. Beau had put up a considerable amount of his own cash to finance the damn thing and things were already in play. They were scheduled to shoot in the fall.
Beau would direct and act a small yet pivotal role, though the real star of his film was the female lead. The movie was a gritty, emotional portrayal of a woman who’d hit rock bottom. A woman who fights her way back from the dark. A woman who triumphs when all is lost.
Beau wanted Betty Jo Barker for the role and damned if he was leaving New Waterford until she agreed to do it.
Chapter Three
SATURDAY NIGHT PROVED to be as hot and humid as the rest of the week had been. Even with the breeze there was no relief. It only managed to stir things up. Good things. Bad things. Restless things that maybe should stay hidden.
Betty knew a storm was brewing, something strong and fierce, and as she gazed out at the crowds of partiers filling the blocked-off streets of downtown New Waterford, she feared it was coming sooner than later.
The air was too thick. So thick you could choke on it.
Why the hell had she agreed to come and meet her sister? She wasn’t in the mood to be social and when Betty wasn’t in a good mood, things tended to go off. Bobbi knew it. So did Betty.
And yet her sister had insisted she come and Betty had given in. Mostly because she knew Bobbi wouldn’t give up until she got her own way. A trait the two girls shared, but still, it was annoying when it interfered with Betty’s plans to spend a quiet night at home, reveling in the boring, mundane life she was leading.
The Black Top Hop was an annual fundraiser organized by the local firemen, and it drew a huge crowd every year. With a country band thumping across the way in the parking lot of the firehouse, and cold beer flowing like the river Nile from three different beer tents, this one was no different than any Betty remembered.
Except this time she was stone cold sober and nursing a headache.
Betty glanced around, wondering when her sister was going to show her face. Bobbi was nearly forty-five minutes late, which pissed her off. She would give Bobbi fifteen minutes and then she was gone.
She tucked a long piece of hair behind her ear as her gaze moved over the dance area set up in front of the firehouse. The crowd was singing along with the band, bodies moving to the music—some sensual, some barely able to keep any sort of rhythm, and some already drunk and weaving like out of control puppets.
A few eyes moved her way and Betty took a step deeper into the shadows cast from the firehouse. It felt safer somehow. She was in no mood for attention and anyone with half a brain would know it just
by looking at her.
She wore a simple white halter dress, and sure it clung to her curves, but it fell to her ankles—not even a slit up the side—and other than bare shoulders, not much skin showed. With only a hint of gloss on her lips and her hair knotted loosely at her nape, she looked nothing like her usual provocative self.
It was a positively demure look for this Barker, and it suited her mood tonight.
A fresh gust of wind slid across her heated skin and Betty thought she felt a few drops of rain in her face. For a second, she closed her eyes and lifted her face, hoping for more, but a huge swell of voices snapped her head around.
“Beau Simon!”
“Oh my God! He’s hot!”
“He’s here! He’s really here!”
“Can I get your autograph?”
The unmistakable squeals echoed into the night and Betty’s eyes narrowed as she swept over the crowd once more, disbelief clogging her throat.
He was gone. Grabbed his bike and left yesterday.
Hadn’t he?
Her heartbeat rocketed up into the stratosphere when she caught sight of a tall man up near the beer tent. Was it Beau? He wore a baseball cap, but still, judging from the crowd gathered around him, and the unmistakable blond hair peeking out from beneath the hat, she wasn’t taking any chances.
Turning on her heel, Betty cut through the dance crowd and made it through to the other side, before she paused for a look back.
The baseball cap was no longer in sight. Had she imagined the entire thing? Had Beau Simon rattled her that much?
She stood there, like an idiot, breathing hard, agitated, and pissed off. Another glance at her watch told her it was ten. That’s it. She was done.
Betty whirled around and headed for the side street that ran parallel to Main. The loaner car Logan had given her was parked there. She’d taken a few steps past the firehouse when a familiar voice cut through the music.