“You can’t pay her what she’d be giving up if she says one more word,” Colin shot back. Then to the mystery woman, he said, “One more word and your career is over, I swear to God.”
He could feel the woman hesitating. “Please,” Beau said again.
Then he waited to see whose side she picked.
CHAPTER 22
“THANKS FOR THE RIDE, SAM,” Josie told her friend when they pulled up outside the Birmingham Grand.
“No problem, but you need to get a new car already. It’s always breaking down on you, and you know that’s not safe.”
“With what money?” Josie asked with a grin.
The money Beau had paid her for the one week they’d spent together before she quit had been well spent. It’d been enough to keep Ruth’s House open and allow her enough credits to complete her degree at UAB. But even living as frugally as she had for the last six months, there wasn’t enough left over to replace her junker car.
“I don’t know. Maybe you could ask Mr. Moneybags Country Singer in there?” Sam suggested. “You didn’t seem to have any problem hitting him up for that big donation last night.”
“That’s different. The money Beau Prescott donated will only take us so far, and we’ve got to keep hustling.”
Sam grinned. “And that’s why I can’t wait until you’re done with your summer classes and can come work at the shelter full time.”
“Me either,” Josie said, meaning it. She welcomed the idea of getting money from legitimate sources, ones she didn’t have to almost lie about. Sam knew that the money to keep Ruth’s House open came from Beau. But she had no idea what Josie had done to get it. “But right now I am so late, girl. I’ve got to go.”#p#分页标题#e#
“Yeah, uh-huh. Don’t think this car topic won’t come up later,” Sam told her.
Josie rushed out of the car and into the hotel lobby—and promptly stopped in her tracks.
Walking out of the elevator bank was Beau Prescott. But not the angry Beau Prescott she’d left to wallow in his own misery six months ago.
This Beau looked so good it took her breath away. She literally didn’t breathe as he walked toward her with confidence and what looked like a light saber leading the way. He’d gotten rid of his long, messy hair and the rough beard. This Beau was clean-shaven and dressed in a summer blazer and white pants that looked like they had been tailored specifically for him.
And this Beau, she noticed, also had a gorgeous black woman beside him, one with creamy light brown skin and a head of read curls that framed her heart-shaped face beautifully. They stopped a few feet outside the elevator, and Beau leaned down to hug her.
Something inside Josie curdled, watching him hug up on another woman. Not only had Beau learned to navigate his blindness, but it also looked like he had moved on to someone new. And though she tried to be happy for him, she just couldn’t manage it.
This was the man, whose memory had kept her up at night for six months. She still had trouble doing the reading homework for her assignments, because whenever she got bored, her mind would drift to thoughts of him, his hands on her body, his commands for her to tell him what he was doing to her even as he was doing them.
Beau let the gorgeous woman out of the hug and started walking toward Josie again. And she scrambled out of his pathway, hiding behind a ficus to watch as he walked by. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually talk to him either.
But then right as he was about to pass by, he sniffed the air and turned toward her. “Josie?”
“H-how did you know it was me?” she asked in surprise, stepping out from behind the ficus.
“Your scent,” he answered with a sheepish smile. “Sandalwood. That’s pretty distinctive in a place like this.”
Josie looked around the lobby at the other hotel patrons, most of whom were white now that the other black women had left. “I guess so. Well, it’s good to see you looking so well, Beau. I mean, you look great. Really good.” Then she made herself stop talking because she was just embarrassing herself now.
Her eyes went to his cane. “Is that one of those ultrasonic canes?” she asked. “I thought they were only in the prototype stage. At least that’s what I read when I was…” she trailed off, as a fresh wave of embarrassment made her face go hot. “…working for you.”
But instead of following her down the path of small talk, he said, “Josie, I don’t want to talk with you about my cane.”
And just when she thought the situation couldn’t get any more embarrassing. “Oh, sorry. I’ll just let you get on your way. Nice seeing you again,” she said. She stepped away from him then, but her somewhat dignified exit was cut short when she tripped over the ficus she’d forgotten was behind her.