Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

Her fingers crept up to the tattoo underneath her ear and she rubbed the smooth skin, feeling that familiar curl of rage again. If she stayed in here, alone, with her thoughts—with those images and memories—she would go crazy.

Decision made, she tossed her apron and turned toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

Outside the sun was hot and she eyed up the Harley parked near the front door.

“That’s Shane’s.”

Beau nodded and handed her a spare helmet. “Yeah, he’s got mine for the moment.”

Betty didn’t ask. She shaded her eyes and glanced up the street. People were starting to gather along the sidewalk, obviously word was out that Beau was at The Grill. It was time to go.

Beau hopped on the bike and she slid in behind him, wriggling a bit until her butt wasn’t hanging out of her skirt, totally aware of the man between her legs.

For a moment she eyed the broad back and shoulders and then held her breath as she slipped her arms around his waist. His body was warm and as she moved her hands over his stomach, she thought that maybe he shuddered. Or maybe it was her.

Beau opened the throttle and they left The Grill behind, coasting down Main Street until he hung a right onto River Road.

From there, Beau followed the river as it snaked and turned, flowing through three different counties until they eventually ended up at a lake near the base of the Porcupine Mountains.

This side of the lake was deserted, probably because there was no beach, but Betty could see swimmers gathered on the other side. Their voices echoed over the water along with a lot of laughter and shrieks of joy.

She thought that maybe if she tried hard enough she might be able to conjure up a memory that sounded like that. But then what was the point?

With a sigh, she slid from the bike, careful not to touch Beau too much as she did so, and she stretched out stiff arms and legs.

Beau grabbed a roll from the bike along with a black bag and she watched in silence as he spread out a blanket beneath an old oak tree near the edge of the water.

His blond hair was disheveled—a total fit for his unshaven look—and she took a moment to study him while he was busy. He was like some golden god. Had she ever met a man who was the perfect mix of hot alpha male and pretty?

Christ, most women would kill for his eyelashes, and those lips…they were full, and sensual. On another man they would have appeared pouty, but on Beau they were a small miracle.

He really was beautiful.

She zoned in on the tattoo that adorned his forearm. It was exotic, dangerous looking.

“What does it mean?”

His head snapped up. “What was that?” Beau tossed the bag onto the blanket and rolled his shoulders.

“Your tattoo. What does it mean?”

Beau stuck his arm out and studied his tat in silence. A silence that stretched longer than a few seconds.

A silence that made Betty uncomfortable, as if she’d just stepped into something that was none of her business.

“Never mind.” She turned away from him and closed her eyes as the breeze picked up and lifted the loose ends of her hair.

“It’s Sanskrit.”

He was close. Inches behind her.

“It means, warrior, strength, survivor.”

Betty slowly turned back to him. “Why did you get it? I mean, there’s always a reason, isn’t there?”

He nodded and Betty’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Something shifted in the air. Something as hot and heavy as the humidity that blanketed the entire lake.

“These words…the meanings behind them, they keep me grounded. They remind me of my family. They tell me that not everyone lives a charmed life, not even when you’re born into it. Shit happens, bad shit. But it’s what we do…it’s how we react to that bad shit that defines us and I…”