“Now tell me why you act like me wanting to know you is the most insane, gnarly thing you’ve ever heard?” He smooths his hands down his thighs, and I grow frustrated when they’re out of my sight. His hands are so fucking beautiful and erotic, the way they span the width of his thick thighs. I bet they’d feel good on my body–grabbing me, exploring my skin.
I remain silent under the guise of focusing on the ride.
“You don’t take sh—stuff from people, I like that about you. You stand up for yourself, I guess is what I’m saying, and I really like that about you, Beck. And you’re nice, and forgiving and that tells me you have a big heart. And you know you’re gorgeous.” His words cause a full-body tingle to take over, all of me numb, hot, and achy. It feels so good to hear those things, especially coming fromhim. “Now tell me why you think I can’t want you.”
I don’t know what to say or where to start, completely taken aback by his honesty. Fucking Dustin couldn’t tell the truth about anything.
“There’s a scary skeleton inside of you,” I say, segueing awkwardly into my feelings. He doesn’t know in my head I’m essentially assaulting him sexually right now, so I laugh to walk him through the leap. But we must leap to my point because I cannot think of this…kid…thatway.
“Uhh,” Beau chuckles, glancing at Jett. “Does Mom need her coffee? Mom didn’t have her coffee yet, did she?” he asks Jett. Rear-facing, I peer back at him when we come to a stop. As usual, Jett is cooing and babbling like crazy with a smile on his face.
“What does that mean, Beck?” Beau asks when he’s able to look away from Jett. Even after he returns his focus to me, I catch him veer off a few times, sneaking peeks at Jett. My internal smile is enormous.
“When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me to never be scared to talk about anything, try anything, or do anything because inside of all of us is a skeleton, and there’s nothing scarier than a skeleton living inside you. If you’re already living with that daily, you can do anything.”
His lips twitch. I smile, knowing how insanely wacky that story is, but also loving it for how fun and silly it is, too. I love my dad.
“Jesus,” Beau says after a moment of introspection. “He said that to make you feelbetter?”
“When I was nervous to talk, yeah.” I shrug, and love how his confusion turns to appreciation with a twist of his lips.
In a fleeting moment, his expression of playfulness is gone and left behind is a somber Beau. One I’ve never met before.
“My dad died a year ago.” He glances out the side window before his eyes fall to his lap where his hands tangle together. “Quick,” he baits, not looking up. And I’m glancing into the rearview with no end in sight as we wait at a red light. “What’s your thing? If the thing I don’t want to talk about is my dad, what’s yours? The thing your scary skeleton beats out?”
His voice is smoky when he quietly adds, “the day you came into the shop, you were upset. I remember that. We can talk about that, if you don’t wanna talk about what trumps your scary skeleton?”
I sigh, wanting to answer him because he’s given me so much. Unexpectedly he’s in my car, giving me pieces of him I haven’t earned and probably don’t deserve but definitely want. I have to give him something in return.
“Long story short, life isn’t what I thought it would be. I love my son but everything else is…sonot what I envisioned.”
There. That’s a great answer that speaks volumes.
“That’s pretty broad,” Beau says, surprising me with his dissatisfaction.
“Well,” I reply, “you’re at your destination so I guess my broad strokes will have to cover it.”
“For now.” This time, he reaches in and gives Jett’s bootied-foot a wiggle. Jett squawks, “Na! Na, na, na!” He giggles. Beau smiles at my son, and pops open the door, never looking back to the rearview.
He closes the door gently and leans down over the driver’s side window, which I have rolled down.
“Can I call you again? For another ride?”
From the way he’s leaning, I can see down his t-shirt. He’s completely hairless, a tattoo on his pec that I can’t see well from here and smooth bumps of muscle. My thighs clench together as my pelvic floor pulses.
My eyes flick up to his, and he grins, knowing exactly what I was just doing.
“I can’t stop you,” I say, pretending I’m indifferent. Heat burns up my neck like wildfire.
He reaches into his pocket, passing me his closed fist. I tap his fingers and they uncurl, revealing a familiar purple box. I twist my gaze to read it. LANOLIN NIPPLE CREAM. My eyes widen as I look up at him.
“This got stuck in your shopping cart. I figured you needed it.”
“I do,” I say, slowly taking the box of nipple cream from his hand while our eyes stay tangled together in an extremely electric moment. I swear, sparks are popping off around us. Why am I picturing those blunt fingertips smearing the cream into my hardened nipples, breasts aching and full, our mouths barely touching as he does. Holy shit.
“Bye, Beck.” He pats the hood of my car and drops a wink to me. “See you tomorrow.”
Those three words have me floating for the rest of the day.