Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

Fuck. It was too soon for business. He wanted to stretch things out as long as he could. Hell, he was even considering asking her if she wanted to take a little road trip with him. Just take off and go anywhere. Be someone other than Beau Simon and Betty Jo Barker, for a little while.

“So, what are we doing, Beau?”

He took his aviators off and pushed the ball cap back on his head.

“You tell me,” he replied.

She laughed at that. “Too scared to answer?”

Damn she was smart.

“Last night was really nice,” she said softly.

“Yeah.”

“But if we do this movie…” she leaned her elbows on the table. “And I want to do this movie, I gotta be clear on that. I want the part, Beau.”

“Okay.” He liked the glow in her eyes. The excitement in her voice.

“That means that we can’t be involved in a…”

“A what?” His tone was teasing, but the truth was, that he was trying to figure things out—a way to have it all. But she wasn’t co-operating.

“In a whatever last night was. We can’t do that and film a movie that you’re directing and starring in as well. I can’t…after everything that’s happened.” She sighed and stirred her coffee, her eyes sliding away from his. “I know what people think of me. And I know what you think of me.”

“Hey,” he said roughly. “Things change. People change.” He grabbed her hand. “I didn’t know you before. Not really. But I know you now and that’s all that matters.”

She tossed her spoon onto the table. “You know, for the longest time I didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of me. In fact, the lower their opinion, the better I felt. It was like, if the bar was set so low I didn’t have so far to fall. And that’s the thing…I always fell.”

Her eyes shot up. And there was all that business again.

“This movie means that I have a chance to prove to myself that I can raise that bar and not be afraid. But I need to do it on my own and I need to do it without a distraction. Without screwing the guy who’s given me the chance. You know that right? We can’t be involved. We just can’t.”

She was right. Fuck.

He grinned, trying to lighten the situation. “Not even a straight up sex thing with no strings?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Not even that.” She paused for a moment, her fingers playing with the sugar bowl, pushing it back and forth. “Sex always screws things up and,” she leaned forward. “Can I tell you a little secret?”

He nodded, his eyes on her mouth. That mouth.

Holy. Hell. That mouth.

“Sex without strings doesn’t exist.” She glanced away. “There’s always strings. It’s just that sometimes they’re invisible. You can’t see them, but they’re there, you know? And when it comes time to cut them, well, that’s when things get messy.”

He hated that she was right.

The waitress brought over their breakfast and refilled their coffees and they’d just dug in when Betty’s cell went off.

She tugged it out of her bra, glanced at it and then tossed it on the table without answering. She’d just spread jam onto her toast when the cell went off again.

“You going to get that?” he asked.

“Nope.”

But as soon as she said the word, the phone buzzed again. This time she swore like a trucker and scooped up her cell.

“What?” she snapped so loudly that a few folks a couple tables away glanced in their direction. She was obviously pissed off and Beau was curious to know who’d managed to accomplish that so early in the morning. Had to be family.