Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)

With his tats, penchant for leather and rumors of jail time, Gallagher looked like a biker. Coupled with the artwork he’d seen, done by none other than Gallagher himself, Beau found the guy interesting.

There was a story there. Maybe one day he’d find out what it was.

“I’m gonna grab us a couple of beers. Be back in a minute.”

Beau watched Tucker head toward the bar, which was located near the pool, and turned back just as Shane approached.

Beau shook his hand and smiled at the woman beside him. Her hair was shorter than Betty’s, a dark curtain hanging just past her chin. She wore a simple white sleeveless dress that fit like a glove, and rested several inches above her knee. Plain flat sandals adorned her feet, though her toenails were painted a funky orange and blue, the same funky colors on her fingers.

Her smile was wide—that generous Barker mouth glistening with pink gloss—her eyes wide and open.

“So, you’re Beau Simon,” she murmured, stepping out from beside Shane as she studied him intently.

“I am.”

“You look different than on the big screen.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yes.” And then she grinned. “You’re much hotter in person.”

“Uh, babe. I’m right here.” Shane nuzzled the back of her neck, his hands on her hips and though her eyes never left Beau’s, he knew she was totally into her man. It was in the way her eyes softened. As if the touch and feel of Gallagher was all she needed.

“So,” she said with a giggle as she pushed Shane away. “I heard that you managed to piss off Betty in record time last night.”

“Apparently, she doesn’t like me all that much.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Shane said. “She doesn’t like anyone.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Bobbi said with a grimace. “She likes Matt Hawkins just fine.”

“Speak of the devil,” Shane said, his attention behind them.

All three of them glanced toward the side of the house, where a tall guy, built like a Mac truck, had his business all up in…Betty Jo.

He had at least a few inches on Beau, with wide shoulders, and impressive biceps to match. The guy wore a leather jacket even though it had to be nearly seventy degrees, and big ass kicking boots.

Beau’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like the way the guy’s hands were all over her and the little black top she wore, threatened to fall down every time she leaned back into him. Seriously. The damn thing barely covered her breasts.

Her eyes were dramatic, her lips a vibrant red and her hair was loose, falling well past her shoulders. That amazing ass was on display in a pair of low riding white jeans that fit her like a second skin. They rode so low in fact, that the top swell of her butt could be seen when she turned.

Topped off with a pair of heels that she had to be insane to wear to an outdoor barbecue, she looked…

Jesus Christ, Betty Jo looked hotter than anything he’d ever seen.

Beau cleared his throat and wished he had something in his hands because he didn’t know what to do with them.

Where the hell was Tucker?

Oh, yeah, there was Tucker, taking a second long look at that fine ass as he passed them on his way over to Beau.

Shane and Bobbi forgotten, Beau grabbed a beer from his brother. “Don’t say it,” he said harshly as he took a long, cold drink.

Tucker paused, and then shrugged, easing into his own beer, though his eyes did wander back to Betty and the giant.

Beau glanced around. Pretty much every male eye was settled onto Betty Jo.

“She certainly knows how to make an appearance, doesn’t she?” Bobbi said quietly.