Low-rise, white skinny jeans. Check.
Belly button ring. Check.
Four inch black heels. Check.
“Let me put on some gloss,” she said as a spark of excitement rifled through her. Was she really going to do this?
Why the hell not?
For the first time in, forever, Betty Jo Barker was going to do exactly what the town expected her to do. She was going after what she wanted and to hell with the consequence. It might get messy and most likely would be dirty, but whatever.
If it came back and bit her in the butt, she’d deal with it.
Or, she’d run away.
Chapter Fourteen
“WOW. THERE REALLY is more than one?”
Beau swung his head and followed Tucker’s gaze. For a moment his insides froze, his fists tightened and he forgot to breathe. Over near the barbecue pit, some guy had his hands sitting right above the soft swell of a butt. The position wasn’t casual—the fingers splayed in such a way that told anyone looking she belonged to him.
It was a butt that looked familiar, and something hot, sort of angry, coursed through him as the man’s hand rolled down to cup those soft swells. He pulled the woman closer, murmured in her ear and that’s when Beau realized it wasn’t Betty, but the third triplet he hadn’t yet met, Bobby.
And the guy was Shane Gallagher.
Idiot.
He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, because he didn’t know what the hell to do with them.
“You okay, Hollywood?”
Beau scowled at his brother. Tucker knew him too well.
“I’m fine.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Leave it,” he said, eyebrow arched.
“So, brother, tell me. Where is your triplet?”
Beau’s scowl deepened. He’d left at least a dozen messages for her and she hadn’t returned any of them. He was starting to think the whole idea of Betty Jo in his movie was a lost cause, but there had been a part of him that thought if she just took the time to read the damn script, she’d be as excited as he was.
But then, had he really expected her to? Her dislike of him was intense, to say the least. She made no bones about the fact that she could barely stand to be around him, and he supposed he couldn’t blame her. He’d blown it with her and she was too damn stubborn to forgive him.
“Last time I looked, I didn’t own a triplet.”
Tucker’s grin widened. “Yeah, but you want one.” And then softer. “Real bad.”
r /> Beau glared at his brother. “I should have left you in the Muskokas.”
“And yet you didn’t.”
Shane Gallagher nodded their way, his hands still on his lady, as the two of them strolled through the bevy of local participants and the celebrities in attendance.
Most of the so-called, celebs playing in the tournament were in town and this barbecue—closed to the public and only open to the participants—was a kickoff and thank you from the local businesses. It was held out at Shane Gallagher’s farm. Though really, farm was an understatement.
The estate was impressive, with a large colonial home, a good many outbuildings and an expensive roster of racehorses. It was not what Beau had expected.