But Herschel moved past him without another word and Beau had no choice but to follow him back into the house.
He let the old man grab him a beer and watched him fuss about the kitchen. He offered to barbecue the chicken but the elder Barker wouldn’t hear of it. Herschel had no qualms however, about letting Beau wash the lettuce and prepare the salad.
Beau took a long swig from his beer and set about making the best damn salad that he could muster while Herschel went out back to barbecue up the chicken.
The Barker home was comfy. It was old and lived in, and it reminded Beau a lot of his grandparent’s place in the south. He liked it.
He washed the lettuce, just like his mama taught him, patted it up dry and then set to work on cutting up some onion, tomato and peppers. He found a hunk of feta and had just finished sprinkling a good amount overtop the salad, when he felt her presence.
“Wow. Who knew there was a domestic side to Beau Simon.”
The old sass was back in her voice.
Beau turned around and leaned against the counter. Betty still wore those damn come-fuck-me heels along with the halter-top that didn’t quit, and the short, shorts that should never be paired with those damn come-fuck-me heels.
Christ, a guy didn’t stand a chance with her.
He made sure to keep his eyes above the neck. He didn’t want to fuck this up by getting on her prickly side, and the truth of it was, he had no idea where the prickly side began and where it ended—that’s if she had anything other than a prickly side where he was concerned.
“I have many hidden talents.”
“I’ll bet,” she said, hands shoved into the back pockets of her shorts, which only served to enhance the breasts he wasn’t looking at.
She held his gaze for a few seconds and then glanced at the floor, scuffing her shoe along the worn linoleum. Long strands of hair fell over her face and the silence became heavy—the kind that presses in and gets uncomfortable.
Except Beau wasn’t uncomfortable. He was far from uncomfortable.
He crossed the room before he could stop himself, pausing an inch or so away. He was close enough to catch that summer scent. To see the sheen of her hair as it slid over her cheek, and the way her bottom lip trembled.
Hell, her entire body seemed to be trembling as if she was coming down from an adrenaline high.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Are you alright?”
She nodded but kept her head down.
“Why are you here, Beau?”
She sounded sad. Done. As if there was nothing else inside her to give.
“I have that script I want you to read.”
She shook her head again, her eyes on the floor as if the tip of her shoe was the most interesting thing in the room.
“Why are you really here? What’s your angle? You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you want me to act in one of your movies. Not after…”
His gut clenched.
“Not after the last time.” She shuddered. “Not after what you did. What you said.”
Something hard and heavy unfurled inside Beau as he
stared down at Betty. How could he make this right? Make her understand that before was a mistake? He saw that now.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, reaching for her, not giving up when she averted her face. He found her chin and slowly forced her to look up at him.
She winced as his fingers slid along her jaw and that something heavy inside him, twisted even more when he saw the damage on her lip. Carefully he wiped away the blood that was smeared in the corner of her mouth.
And suddenly, this moment wasn’t about the movie anymore. Or the script or even her father.