Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

“That doesn’t sound like it’s a good surprise.”

And it wasn’t, which shouldn’t surprise Beau, but it did. He might not be serious about Lane—hell, they’d only been dating a few months, but up until a few days ago he’d been looking forward to spending some time with her. Which meant he was looking forward to getting laid—their relationship hadn’t progressed past that point.

Contrary to what most people thought, Beau Simon wasn’t the type to sample the free offerings shoved in his face most days. If he was involved with someone, he was a one woman man.

Just not right now. Right here.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Blue eyes. Dark hair. A body that didn’t quit and an attitude to match. That’s what the hell was wrong with him.

Beau exhaled and ran his fingers over the days old stubble on his chin. He was playing ball today. Baseball for Christ sake—a sport he loved—and his shit mood had to go.

He glanced at the bedroom. Briefly thought of tossing Lane on the bed and taking her there, fast and hard.

But then he realized his hard-on was gone—at about the same time Lane did—and he pointed to Tucker.

“Why don’t you grab a coffee? I’ve got to have a shower and head out to the ball park.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised. “You’re really playing in this silly tournament?”

“It’s for charity,” Tucker said. “A mixed tourney.”

“Mixed?”

Here we go.

“Yep,” Tucker said as he poured her a cup. “Men and women. Celebrities and locals. Hell, we even have an SI model playing with us.”

Beau shook his head and waited.

“SI?” Lane glanced at Beau.

“Sports Illustrated.” Tucker hopped the island and then handed Lane a steaming mug of coffee. “The swimsuit edition.”

She tugged her towel closer and expertly flipped her hair as she let that information settle. Then she slowly sipped from her cup, before meeting Beau’s eyes. They were dark and big and…

Great. She was pissed.

“Betty Jo Barker.” Her voice was soft and sweet and coated with poisonous candy.

“Bingo!” Tucker tossed the rest of his coffee into the sink.

Lane threw Tucker a look that would shrivel most men’s balls, but his brother was enjoying himself so much the frost in the air didn’t penetrate.

“Lane,” Beau said.

“You know how I feel about that…that slut.”

Unbelievable. How in hell did Betty manage to piss off people she’d never even met?

“She’s trash, Beau. She doesn’t run in our circles. I mean, who the hell names their daughter Betty Jo anyway?”

“That’s pretty childish,” he said.

“It’s true! I can’t believe you’re serious about her. About her being in your movie. That is why you’re here, right? Why you’re playing in this stupid tournament? Don’t tell me it’s about charity. Beau Simon doesn’t have time for small town charity in Hicksville, USA.” She was shaking. “You’re here because of her.”

A slow burn started in the pit of Beau’s gut. He didn’t like what Lane was insinuating about what he did with his time, or the snobbish attitude toward this town and the people who lived here.