Never is a Promise(27)

His fingers gripped the waist of my jeans, searching for the button as he continued peppering soft, hungry kisses into my flesh. Pressing his hardness against me, shivers ran the length of my spine before settling between my legs. My core ached for him in a way I’d never ached for anyone since him.

“You want to know why I’m really retiring, Dakota?” his voice rasped and drawled and tickled my skin, leaving hot trails with his lips as he lowered himself to his knees. Tugging my jeans down, he started to speak.

“No,” I interrupted. “Don’t do this.”

“What?” Beau froze.

“I don’t want to.” I strengthened my resolve and tried my damnedest to ignore the pleasurable burn in my core that wanted him so much it hurt. My body could beg and plead all night, but in the end my mind would win. It always did. “I don’t want this.”

Beau backed off, surrendering his hands in the air, though the look on his face gave me an indication that he had no intentions of giving up that easily. I had no clue how to get our interview back on track or if we could recover after that, so I cleared my throat and took a step back.

“I should go upstairs and check my email. Call my producer.” I hugged my sides. “I’m a little tired. Why don’t we try again tomorrow?”

Beau studied me, his brows meeting in the middle and his mouth firmed into a straight line as he pushed a deep breath through his nostrils. I’d seen that look before, one hot Kentucky summer when his truck was having engine trouble. He’d taken apart the carburetor and studied it until he taught himself how to fix it. Only took him half a day before it was all put together and his truck was running again. He gave me that same look – as if he was trying to figure me out. I was a broken part, and Beau was determined to put me back together. To make me work again.

I left him downstairs and headed up to my guest quarters, which was technically Ivy’s old bedroom. The floral wallpaper and boy band posters that surrounded the little twin bed felt quaint and homey and rustled up warm, nostalgic tingles in my belly despite what had just happened. I clung to that comfort as if it were all I had.

I pulled out my phone and checked my email the second I pounced onto the bed, responding to the quick ones and flagging the rest to deal with upon my return. A handful of missed text messages from Harrison instructed me to call him, and I’d learned over the years how much he hated to be kept waiting.

“Hey,” I said after he answered in the middle of the first ring. I kept my voice low.

“How’s everything going?” Harrison asked. It was quiet in the background, and I imagined he was sitting in his favorite leather chair in the living room of our apartment surrounded by Chinese takeout, his iPad, and the Wall Street Journal, of which he still preferred to read the paper version. “Getting anything good?”

“It’s slow going.” My voice was a near whisper. “I should have everything I need by the time I leave Wednesday.”

“Good. Maybe you can come home early.” Harrison’s comment came out of left field. I laughed silently at the notion that perhaps he missed me.

Random.

“I’ll try,” I said, knowing full well it’d be damn near impossible for Beau to let me leave early. He wasn’t going to let me go that easily.

“It’s weird not going with you on location,” he mused. I heard the rustling of paper in the background. Harrison was always multi-tasking. Getting his undivided attention was a luxury I never could afford in our marriage.

“Trust me. You’re not missing a thing. You’d be bored to tears out here.”

For whatever reason, it never bothered me until that moment that Harrison had never cared to visit Darlington during the duration of our relationship. Though in his defense, I once loved that about him. I loved that he didn’t dig up my past – the part of me where he certainly didn’t belong.

“I should let you go,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was going to be an early bedtime for me, but it’d been a long day. “I need to prep for tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Coco.” Harrison said my name with deep intention, as if to subtly remind me that I was still her. I was still Coco.

I placed my phone on the nightstand and slipped into pajamas before trailing down the hall to wash up for bed. The house was still. If I had to guess, Beau was probably sitting outside with Ruby staring out at the night sky.

Glancing out Ivy’s old window, I caught a glimpse of Beau rocking in his chair down below, his hand resting on top of Ruby’s head as he scratched behind her ears hard enough to make her foot thump.