Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

Betty closed her eyes and groaned. She didn’t want to think about the answer to those questions and what it meant. At least not right now. She’d think about that stuff later.

Or maybe not all.

Chapter Twenty-eight

“YEAH, SO MOM called again.”

Beau accepted a cold beer from his brother and settled back into his chair on the dock. It was nearly midnight and he and Tucker had been out here for more than a few hours. Long enough for his clothes to become damp.

He was halfway drunk which meant he wasn’t drunk enough.

“Did you hear what I said, Hollywood?”

“Tucker.”

“What?”

“Don’t call me Hollywood again or I swear to God, I’ll toss your ass into the lake.”

“Shit,” Tucker said. “Your Wheaties issue still hasn’t been resolved now, has it?”

Beau loved his brother. He really did. But right now he was being a pain in the ass.

Beau angled his head and glared at Tucker. “Wheaties? Are you speaking code now? Some secret language I don’t know?”

“Someone messed with your Wheaties this morning and you’ve been acting like a prick since we hit the road in Michigan. I’m guessing that someone is a hot woman, with hair made for pullin’ and a mouth made for—“

“Okay,” Beau sat a little straighter. “Enough.” He took a good, long, drink of his beer and glared at Tucker. “Can we drop it?”

His brother’s even white teeth slashed through the gloom and Beau knew that Tucker was grinning like an idiot. Tucker had a head start on the whole drinking thing—Beau had had to deal with calls from his publicist and his agent when he’d arrived at the lake—so, Tucker was feeling no pain.

Good for fucking him.

Beau glanced back, up the bank to where the lights from the lake house twinkled through the night. His brother Jack was up there with some tight-ass wall street type. The woman was smart, calculating and cold. She’d spent a hell of a lot of time grilling Beau over investments and the backend returns of some of his films.

Beau and Tucker had hightailed it out of there as soon as they could.

“What the hell is up with Jack’s girl?” he asked, finishing his beer and crushing the can.

Tucker shrugged. “I don’t know. All she did was talk numbers. Christ, my head was spinning through dinner. I figure she’s gotta be good in the sack. Why the hell else would Jack put up with her? Did you see the size of her rack? Those are premium tits, brother, though I can’t tell if they’re real or not. I brushed up against her in the kitchen, but didn’t make enough contact to come out with an opinion either way.”

“Good to know,” Beau said.

“Yeah,” a voice slid at them from the dark. “Good to know.”

Beau and Tucker watched as their oldest brother, Jack, appeared from the dark and sat down on the dock beside Tucker.

“Well, are they?” Tucker asked, tossing Jack a beer.

“Are they what?”

“Christ, you’re deaf,” Beau said with a chuckle. “Tuck here, wants to know if your girlfriend’s titties are real.”

Jack, shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t paid that much attention to them.”

Tucker spewed beer everywhere and slapped his brother on the back. “You’re kidding me right? Aren’t you nailing that?”

Jack frowned. “Jesus, do you have to be so goddamn rude?” He rolled his shoulders and stared out over the water.