Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

Beau wasn’t exactly sure what it was about, but her eyes darkened and when her tongue darted out to lick at the corner he’d just cleaned, he had the overwhelming urge to kiss her. To run his tongue over what was definitely going to be a bruise on her jaw.

To kiss away the pain that sat in her eyes.

He bent forward, not really sure what the hell he was going to do…but feeling the need to do something. Anything to wipe away the darkness in her eyes.

“Okay, kids, the chicken is ready.” The door slammed behind Herschel as he came in from outside.

Just like that, the moment was broken and Betty pushed past Beau, crossing the kitchen and taking the platter of chicken from her grandfather. She set it on the table and grabbed four plates. Quickly, she filled one and would have left the room but Herschel shook his head, and grabbed it from her.

“I’ll take this up to Trent and stay with him.”

“Gramps, I can do it. I’m fine.”

“Bets, let me deal with my son tonight. You and Mr. Simon have something to discuss and this old man doesn’t want to be in the way.”

“Gramps, you’re not in the way.”

But he was already out of the room, leaving Beau alone with Betty.

“Well, I’m not making your plate.”

Beau hid a smile. Good. They were back to where they should be. Not exactly friends, but not exactly enemies either.

He quietly fixed his plate and then sat across from Betty at the kitchen table. He wasn’t particularly hungry and judging from the way Betty moved her food around without eating much, he was guessing she wasn’t either.

“So, where the hell is your posse anyway?”

Beau set his fork down and leaned back in the chair. “Posse?”

“Your bodyguards. Goons. Those big Neanderthals who follow you around like you’re the second coming.”

Beau made a face. The only time he used protection was when he was at a premiere or public event. Otherwise, he played it low key. In his experience, the flashier the celebrity, the more crap that came their way.

Beau wasn’t about that—celebrity—and being in the spotlight. Though in this day and age, it was damn hard to avoid it when the public was mad for it. Still, he’d learned that most of the time if he asked fans nicely to give him space, they obliged.

“I left them behind in LA.”

“Really,” she said dryly.

“You seem surprised.”

She shrugged. “Most big time celebs that I know don’t go anywhere without at least a couple of tag-a-longs.”

“I guess I’m not like most big time celebs.”

Her eyes were on him, so dark and stormy, he could feel the frost from across the table.

“Did you order your bike from Logan because of me?”

“No.”

She arched an eyebrow, and pushed her plate away. “I don’t believe you.”

“Your ego is pretty impressive.”

For a second she said nothing, but he noticed the barest hint of a smile. It was tiny—a lift in the corner of her mouth—but damn, it made Beau feel good to know he’d been the one to put it there.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said cheekily.