Hopeless
by Elsie Silver
Published by Bloom Books
Book 5 in the Chestnut Springs Series
He doesn't believe that anyone holds her last name against her...so he offers her his.
Beau Eaton is the town prince, a handsome military hero with a tortured past. Bailey Jansen is the outcast bartender, a shy girl from the wrong side of the tracks. He's thirty-five and all man, and she's twenty-two and all...virgin.
He's also her fiancé. Correction: her fake fiancé.
It starts out as a bet, a point for Beau to prove. And it's a win-win: Beau gets a break from his concerned family's prying, and Bailey gets a chance to shed her family's reputation while she saves up to ditch this small town for good. All she has to do is wear his ring, follow his lead, and pretend she can't keep her hands off of him in public. Easy enough, right?
But it's what happens between them in private that blurs all those carefully drawn lines. It's what transpires behind closed doors that doesn't feel like pretending at all. This engagement was supposed to be for show. This agreement? It has an end date.
Beau once told Bailey he'd never fall in love. She's determined to make him change his mind.
Genre
Triggers
PTSD from being MIA on tour, burn injuries, child abuse/neglect (not depicted), bullying
I had such high hopes for this book.
Ha! I didn't realize that fun play on the title of the book until I typed that sentence out.
I'm such a nerd, I know.
Seriously though - I really wanted to like this book. For a lot of different reasons.
I've been looking forward to Beau's book since the beginning of this series. His huge and fun personality drew me in. I knew we would be getting a different Beau after his trauma, and I didn't mind that. I also looked forward to a more layered, complicated character.
I've also been intrigued by Bailey since she was quietly introduced earlier in the series. The underestimated, quiet, beautiful girl, who endured a town looking down on her, not because of her, but her family, and her navigating that while carving out a life for herself had me really looking forward to where Elsie would take her character.
Bringing these two characters together - great choice.
It just didn't hit the marks for me, personally.
I didn't hate it. I was just ... bored by it.
Even the big fight at the end of the book, the one that should have added some tension to the story, had me scratching my head.
I didn't understand Bailey's reaction. Even when she explains it, it just left me confused.
I don't know what else to say. It's so weird to me that with almost 500 pages, not a lot happens.
I do like the ending. The choices they made - together and separately. I love that they both prioritized what they wanted to do for themselves. A lot of the time, there is compromise, and while compromise is great, it wouldn't have worked in this case. Both characters found a way to be happy, not just with one another, but in every aspect of their lives.
Hopeless didn't hit all the marks for me, but it wasn't a bad book. It was a decent conclusion to the series. I look forward to Elsie Silver's other work in the future.
*by purchasing through amazon, you will provide me with a tiny compensation.
Beau: “Your bar, huh?”
Bailey: “Yes, Beau. My bar. My place. The only place in this town where people don’t treat me like shit. I bust my ass working here. I bust my ass trying to make customers like me. And behind that wood is my bubble. Gary isn’t perverted, he’s fucking lonely. And he’s one of the few people who is consistently kind to me. So, if you think you can waltz into my bar acting like an untouchable asshole and scaring all my regulars away with your antics, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Beau: “Did I embarrass myself?”
His voice is all gravel and rumbles over my skin.
Bailey: “You did. But the good news is your last name is Eaton, so everyone will forgive you and go back to kissing your feet the minute you walk in there and flash them a smile.”
Beau: “Bailey, what the fuck? Did you really just say that to me?”
Bailey: “Yes.”
My head tilts.
Bailey: “Because it’s true. All I had to do was be born into my family and everyone looks at me like they’re waiting for that part of my genetics to rear its ugly head. Like I’ll go from hardworking and polite to a hillbilly criminal mastermind in the blink of an eye just because my last name is Jansen.”
His brow furrows deeper the longer I talk.
Bailey: “So, yeah. I think you’re gonna be fine, even though you embarrassed yourself.”
Beau: “What days do you work?”
I snort, glancing down to pull my own keys from my purse.
Bailey: “What days don’t I work?”
Beau: “Okay, what nights do you work alone?”
Bailey: “Sunday through Tuesday,”
I reply, zipping my bag.
Beau nods and says a terse,
Beau: “Okay,”
before spinning on his heel and giving me his back, looking every bit the military man he is. Head held high, shoulders perfectly straight. Like he’s some sort of knight in shining armor. One who starts pulling up a stool every Sunday through Tuesday to drink chamomile tea until midnight, so I don’t have to close by myself.
Cade: Willa says you need to apologize to Winter. She’s in the wedding party.
Beau: Willa doesn’t run my show.
Cade: You must be new here. Willa runs everyone’s show.
Winter: “Seeing anyone?”
Beau: “Like a doctor?”
She nods.
Beau: “Nah.”
Winter: “Why see a professional when we can diagnose ourselves, right?”
I smirk but say nothing.
Winter: “A childhood filled with neglect means I learned to survive by not relying on anyone. Boom. Diagnosed. Saved myself hundreds of dollars. You go.”
I curve a brow as I consider what to say next.
Beau: “PTSD.”
Winter: “Yeah.”
Her nose wrinkles as the song nears its end.
Winter: “So generic. I can see why you wouldn’t want to talk to a professional about that.”
Beau: “Winter, are you making fun of me? I can’t fucking tell.”
Bailey: “If we’re struggling, we’re still in motion, yeah? Heading somewhere better. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway.”
Beau: “So I need you to do me a solid.”
He doesn’t even hesitate.
Jasper: “Alright.”
Beau: “If Cade asks, I need you to corroborate my story that you called me away from work because you needed help.”
Jasper: “With what?”
Beau: “I didn’t say. You pick.”
Jasper: “Okay, I’ll tell him I was missing Sloane and that you offered to come dance like a ballerina for me to make me feel better.”
Beau: “I would if you wanted me to,”
I deadpan. He laughs at that.
Jasper: “I know you would.”
Beau: “He’s looking at you.”
The muscles in my back tighten.
Beau: “Thinking about you.”
She shrugs.
Bailey: “Probably.”
Beau: “How can you possibly be okay with that?”
Bailey: “I don’t usually ask a person’s permission before thinking about them while I masturbate.”
To cover my shock, I just glare at her.
Bailey: “I’ll bring a bathing suit next time. Might help with your self-control.”
I chuckle to myself.
Bailey: “Hey, Beau, you never answered my question earlier.”
Beau: “What question?”
Bailey: “Have you had anal sex?”
I bark out a laugh. That was not what I was expecting. At all. And I figure, what’s the point of lying?
Beau: “Yeah. Once.”
Bailey: “Did you like it?”
I blink. Wow, okay, just out with it then. Bailey Jansen yelling about anal sex over the creek bed has my boxers feeling outrageously uncomfortable, my dick ready to stand at attention.
Beau: “It wasn’t the best sex I’ve had.”
I can see the outline of her head nodding.
Bailey: “Yeah. I guess you can’t knock it until you try it.”
A strangled laugh bubbles up in me. What else am I supposed to do? She’s the most confusing combination of innocent, curious, and forthright.
Beau: “Goodnight, Bailey.”
She turns away with a gentle salute.
Bailey: “Yes, sir.”
Beau: “Yes. We need some ground rules.”
He leans forward now, elbows propped on the table, mug between his big palms. I stare. I wish I was that mug.
Beau: “No anal sex, Bailey. I know you’re really interested, but I’m just not that into it.”
I jolt, eyes about to bug out of my head. My hand shoots up over my lips, and I force myself to swallow the beer in my mouth so I don’t spray it all over him.
Bailey: “Oh my god!”
I say from behind my fingers.
Bailey: “It was just a question!”
Beau: “Yup. A question that no other person has just casually lobbed out to me.”
Bailey: “Well, who else am I supposed to ask?”
Beau: “Google?”
Bailey: “Just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I’ve been living in a bubble,”
I bite back.
Bailey: “I just haven’t found someone I want to go all the way with. But I want to.”
Beau: “Bailey.”
He scrubs a hand over his face.
Beau: “God. It’s like you have no filter around me at all.”
I laugh, because of course he’s never seen me with anyone.
Bailey: “I suppose my extensive vibrator collection doesn’t prove much either, huh?”
He groans and shifts again.
Beau: “Jesus, Bailey. You always just blurt shit like that out?”
I shake my head, trying to push my embarrassment back down.
Bailey: “Nope. I only seem to blurt stuff out to people I’m comfortable around. So, you. And maybe Gary.”
Beau drops his head into his hands, heels of his palms pressing into his eye sockets.
Beau: “Please tell me you haven’t told Gary about your vibrator collection.”
I take a swig of my beer.
Bailey: “Don’t worry. He was hammered. I doubt he’d remember it.”
Beau’s head shoots up, an expression of shock painting his face.
Beau: “Are you joking right now?”
I bite hard on the inside of my cheek.
Bailey: “No. I told him about the one that has all these different vibration settings and the one that has this little suction cup that attaches to the wall. Oh, and the one that straight up looks like a real dick but way, way bigger—”
He leans across the table and covers my mouth to silence me. In response, I hold my hands out, gesturing a good twelve inches as I widen my eyes. I’ll never admit it, but his palm against my lips has me fighting the urge to let my tongue trail over his skin. The pressure. The smell of him. My lips move ever so slightly against him, and his hand flies away. Then both come up to cover his eyes again. Beau’s expression has morphed from shock to interest, to . . . whatever he’s doing hiding behind his palms. I finally close my slack jaw and let my smile peek out, taking another drink. The beer doesn’t even taste that bad anymore.
Beau: “You can’t just run around telling creepy old men about this stuff,”
he says in a strangled voice.
Bailey: “Give yourself some credit, Beau. You’re only thirty-five.”
His shoulders jump on a chuckle, and I let a laugh slip now.
Bailey: “And for a tier one operator, you sure are gullible.”
His head snaps up to me, tips of his ears just a little pink.
Beau: “Gary doesn’t know about your vibrator collection?”
Bailey: “No, sir.”
I salute him.
Bailey: “You’re the only one.”
He scrubs at his face as though he’s considering what to say next.
Beau: “I guess it’s fine that I know about your collection. Seeing as how we’re engaged now. And I’m not even threatened by the twelve-inch one.”
Gary: “That’s fast, boy. What are your intentions? She’s a lot younger than you. Nicer. A hell of a lot prettier. What are you up to?”
I turn to Gary now, appreciating that he has Bailey’s back. It’s about time someone did.
Beau: “You’re not wrong. She’s all of those things. But she’s also . . .”
My eyes slip back to her. She looks fucking terrified.
Beau: “Brought me back to life. Can’t imagine my days without her.”
Gary: “Shit.”
He scrubs at his wiry gray stubble.
Gary: “Guess I should have known by the way you’re always watching her like you’re imagining her with her clothes off. Was gonna tell you to tone down the gawking this week, to be honest.”
Well, fuck.
Gary: “Hang on. Please tell me you didn’t propose to her without a ring. Doubt you need her daddy’s permission, but I’ll kick your ass if you didn’t buy a ring for her.”
Bailey’s lips twitch, and she props her hands on her hips, looking all smug. She’s enjoying watching Gary give me the gears. Joke’s on her, though. I may not have proposed with a ring, but one quick trip into the city fixed that.
Beau: “I proposed with one, but Bailey told me the diamond wasn’t big enough and to take it back.”
Her foot stomps.
Bailey: “I did not!”
Beau: “Gary, you should have heard her. Said something about how she wanted a diamond so big that she could barely lift her arm.”
He nods.
Gary: “That’s exactly what she deserves.”
Beau: “Sugar tits, are you pressing your ass against me?”
My hips shoot forward, and I squeak as I scramble to create space between us.
Bailey: “You can’t call me sugar tits,”
is what I come back with as I turn to face him, palms on my hot cheeks like it might cool them down. Or maybe like I have a rewind button there. That would be ideal.
Beau props his arm behind his head and grins at me.
Beau: “That’s the part you draw issue with?”
I sniff, tipping my nose up, refusing to let my mortification make me feel small. I have years of practice holding my head up high when I should be embarrassed. I reach down to straighten my skirt.
Beau: “I was just lying here, keeping you safe. Sleeping. Quietly minding my business. And you were grinding against my—”
Bailey: “Stop!”
My hand shoots up, a physical barrier to cut him off.
Bailey: “Just stop. I was asleep,”
I lie. Beau grins bigger, like he knows I’m full of shit. And fuck, he looks beautiful. There’s sand in his hair, stubble on his face. His tan T-shirt has ridden up just enough to show a peek of bronzed abs.
Bailey: “I didn’t even know I was doing it,”
I say, attempting to weave the truth into what I’m thinking must be a very transparent lie. He waggles his eyebrows at me.
Bailey: “Ugh! Stop! You pressed your gigantic boner into me first!”
He laughs as he rolls onto his back, hands scrubbing over his face, which does nothing but make his forearms ripple. But it’s the sound of his laughter that gets me. It’s warm and full. It vibrates through my body. It makes my stomach flip. It hits me with a jolt of lust right between my legs.
Bailey: “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny. It’s awkward as hell.”
Beau: “It’s funny because if you know that, you weren’t sleeping.”
Shit.
When my eyes trace lower, I can see his length straining against his shorts. With his eyes covered, I casually hold my hand out to compare sizes. For science.
A low chuckle caresses the back of my neck.
Beau: “Bailey, we’re going to need a lot more practice if we’re going to pull this off.”
Bailey: “Why’s that?”
I call over my shoulder, refusing to turn back to him.
Beau: “Because if you act all jittery around me, no one is going to believe we’re madly in love. And I need them off my ass.”
I bark out a laugh. This entire thing is ridiculous.
Bailey: “Well, just don’t ask me if my pussy is wet in front of them.”
I hit the top of the embankment and feel more in control now that I’ve got room to breathe. Hands on my hips, I stare down at him, huffing lightly, sucking in the fresh morning air.
Bailey: “Then we should be fine.”
That mischievous smile pops up on his face again, but it’s not all play—there’s an edge of danger to it too.
Beau: “But it will be, right?”
Summer: “Welcome to the family, Bailey.”
She shifts to peer around me at Beau.
Summer: “Let her go. You’ve already peed on her. No one is gonna take her from you.”
Bailey: “Have you ever had a threesome?”
Yep. That’ll do it. A strangled noise lodges in my throat, and she finally turns her face up to mine. She is so damn pretty, eyes twinkling in the dark, the warm light of the back porch shining on her dark hair.
Beau: “What?”
Her fingers pause as I stare back at her.
Bailey: “A threesome. Sex with two other people. Have you ever had one?”
Beau: “I know what a threesome is, Bailey. I’m having trouble figuring out why this moment is connected to that thought for you.”
Her eyes blink down to her hand.
Bailey: “The three fingers, I guess?”
Beau: “Three fingers on melted skin made you think about a threesome. Life is certainly never boring in your head, is it?”
Bailey: “Well, no. I was thinking about sex.”
When she blurts the last part out, she finally looks a little embarrassed. But not that embarrassed.
Beau: “You were touching my feet . . . and thinking about sex?”
Disbelief bleeds into every syllable. She’s the most entertaining blend of innocent and curious.
Bailey: “Yeah. I mean,”
—her head wobbles—
Bailey: “to be fair, I think about sex a lot.”
I scrub a hand over my face, covering my eyes.
Beau: “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”
She scoffs playfully as she traces my feet again, not the least bit uncomfortable touching me.
Bailey: “Don’t be such a prude, Beau.”
Beau: “I’ve never had a threesome, Bailey,”
I grit out as I push to stand, needing to put some space between us before I do something stupid. Her gaze follows, brown eyes staring up at me like I’m the moon in the night sky.
Bailey: “Why not?”
Bailey, sitting at my feet, full attention turned my way, is doing nothing to stop my hard-on from making an appearance.
Beau: “Not a big fan of sharing something once I decide it’s mine.”
Bailey: “So I did some reading.”
Beau: “So proud of you. I knew you weren’t just a pretty face,”
I quip with a wink.
Cade shoots his dad a dry look.
Cade: “Of course you’d side with a child. What am I supposed to do with a male goat?”
As Harvey stares at his son, it seems like everyone is holding their breath. Beau’s hand tightens on my leg. I hope it leaves marks. I chance a glance over at him, noting the way he’s lifted a fist up over his mouth. Bracing.
Harvey makes a contemplative grumbling noise while scrubbing at his beard.
Harvey: “Well, you could try milking the male goat. But that might get weird.”
The most unladylike noise I’ve ever made leaves me in a flurry of trying, and failing, to breathe deeply. Finally, I focus less on Beau touching my bare skin as giggles overtake me at the absurdity and inappropriateness of the older man’s joke.
Willa loses it. I’m talking sprays water from her mouth. She gets up and walks away, swiping furiously at her mane of red hair. Rhett groans. Jasper gets a wildly amused, shit-eating grin on his face. Beau turns toward me, huffing a soft laugh against the curve of my neck. It’s so hot out, so stagnant, that I lean into the rush of air on my hot skin.
And Cade? Cade just sits there, glaring at his dad.
Cade: “You’re getting worse the older you get. You know that?”
I can see Harvey biting at the inside of his cheek, trying so hard to keep a straight face.
Harvey: “What are you talking about?”
Cade: “Dad. You just made a joke about . . .”
Cade swipes a hand through his hair and looks at his son before deciding to forge ahead anyway.
Cade: “Me jacking off a goat.”
A high-pitched gasp lurches from Beau, who is now rubbing at his eye sockets.
Harvey: “Cade, watch your mouth at the dinner table. And get your head out of the gutter. Male goats have nipples too.”
Cade gapes at his dad.
Cade: “You fucking serious right now?”
Harvey shakes his head.
Harvey: “I think. They might. Okay, fine. I wasn’t talking about their nipples.”
Beau: “Do you really think my dad is hooking up with my dead mom’s little sister?”
It’s the first thing Beau says to me when I pull up beside him at his house and step out of my truck. We met at the main house for dinner and drove back separately.
Bailey: “Yes.”
Beau: “But like . . . how?”
He slams his door and rounds his truck, meeting me at the front grill of mine. His eyes are wide, and he looks . . . adorably naive.
Bailey: “I—”
My head quirks at him.
Bailey: “Well, I don’t have any first-hand experience with how it works, but I’ve done extensive video research. I think the basics are that he would put his—”
His hand covers my mouth.
Beau: “Whatever you do, never finish that sentence. We’re talking about my dad.”
I’m ovulating. That’s the only reason my brain is rationalizing this to me.
Beau: “You scared, sugar?”
Dick.
Beau: “Have fun doing more extensive video research.”
Fucking dick.
Beau: “Might do some of my own tonight too.”
I trip. My flip-flop jams into the grass, and my cheeks flare as I finally reach for the door handle, fiddling with the keys.
Beau: “Back door’s open if you need some AC! Or live inspiration!”
Beau: “Sugar, there’s a spare bedroom upstairs on the left.”
I have never wanted to keel over and die as badly as I do right now. Of course, he’d figure out I was here. He probably heard me breathing. I’m startled enough that I shoot up and watch him walk away, round ass bunching with every step.
Beau: “And if you want to see me up close, just knock on the door across the hall and ask.”
And I officially want to die even more than I did a few seconds ago.
Bailey: “Is your penis normal big? Or like . . .”
She worries her bottom lip before holding her hands up in that twelve-inch spread again.
Bailey: “Big big?”
Beau: “Bailey.”
I shake my head, my voice disbelieving and gruff all at once.
Beau: “You can’t just ask people things like that.”
She presses her lips together and blinks away from my cock before moving onto her back to float.
Bailey: “Why not? You just stripped in front of me. And we’re engaged. And I practically sat on it the other night. It seems like a reasonable question to me.”
I groan as I slip into the water.
Beau: “Trust me, Bailey. If you sat on it the other night, you’d still be feeling it today.”
She jolts back upright as I approach her, eyes wide and dancing with interest.
Bailey: “Does that mean it’s big, big?”
A deep chuckle rumbles in my chest. Being able to laugh anywhere around 2:11 is a fucking treat.
Beau: “Yeah, Bailey. It’s big, big.”
She slaps the water.
Bailey: “I knew it! I was trying to compare it with porn. You know? But, like . . . the scale seems off on my phone screen, and it was dark in your room, so I didn’t get a good look—”
Beau: “Bailey.”
I close my eyes, sink down, and pull a few handfuls of water up over my face.
Bailey: “Sorry.”
Bailey: “Famous?”
Bailey says it with a light giggle. Even she knows that’s a stretch. I snort.
Beau: “I doubt that’s the word for it.”
A grin stretches her lips. Only Bailey would smile after that story.
Bailey: “Infamous.”
I grimace.
Beau: “Isn’t that kind of bad?”
Her finger shoots up.
Bailey: “Notorious!”
Beau: “Not that one either.”
Bailey: “I got it . . .”
Her hands make a sweeping motion.
Bailey: “Legendary.”
I submerge my head underwater to keep from bursting out laughing. When I come back up, she adds,
Bailey: “Fabled.”
Beau: “Jesus, Bailey.”
Bailey: “Renowned. Famed. Celebrated!”
Now I do laugh.
Beau: “I’m engaged to a thesaurus.”
The white of her teeth flashes at me.
Bailey: “Merriam-Webster is a way better nickname than sugar tits. Just saying.”
Beau: “Sorry, sugar. That one’s sticking.”
Bailey: “You’re a good guy, Beau. But you’re kind of out of touch.”
Beau: “Come again?”
Bailey: “Do you know how many people out there do jobs they don’t like? Or are bored with their profession? They get up and go do a job they hate with every fiber of their being because they depend on that paycheck to live. They don’t have a supportive family and a beautiful house to fall back on. That’s real life. Being a shitty employee and unreliable at the job you said you’d do because it bores you . . .”
She moves to standing, reaching up to push her hair away from her face.
Bailey: “That’s a privilege. Recognize it.”
Bailey: “You have too big of a dick to feel this bad for yourself.
Bailey: “If you hadn’t known I was a virgin, would you have fucked me?”
He fidgets now, hand scrubbing at his beard as he groans.
Beau: “Jesus, Bailey.”
Bailey: “Would you?”
He looks away, down river, before turning back to me. Slowly. There’s a sudden predatory vibe in the way he carries himself, in the way he moves.
Beau: “Thoroughly.”
Maybe I should be flattered, but I’m not. I’m irritated. With a disbelieving scoff, I move toward the shore, trying to hide my offense that a man I barely know is telling me what I should and shouldn’t do with my body.
Bailey: “Well, I broke my hymen with a toy some time ago. So I’m not sure what’s so sacred to you. It’s my virginity. Feel free to take that benchmark of mine off of your pedestal anytime now.”
Beau: You at home?
Bailey: Yes.
Beau: What are you doing?
Bailey: Edging.
Bailey: FML. I am EDITING.
Bailey: My resume. Polishing it up. Changing a few things.
Beau: We really just going to skip over the edging part?
Bailey: Yes. It was an autocorrect.
Beau: Why does your phone assume you mean edging though?
Bailey: Guess my phone knows you.
I don’t know how no one else sees it. Sees her. It’s like we’re all staring at the same painting and every other person in this town is missing the point.
Beau: “Bailey,”
he murmurs against my damp, swollen lips.
Beau: “You are doing nothing wrong. You have done nothing wrong. Anyone who talks shit about you is cruel and small-minded and not worthy of your attention. You are fucking perfect.”
Bailey: “Hey, Beau?”
Beau: “Yeah?”
He turns, gripping his door handle.
Bailey: “Why’d you kiss me with no one here to see it?”
The subtle smirk that plays across his lips makes my stomach flip. It’s full of promise, and sensuality, and experience.
Beau: “Because I wanted to.”
Willa: “My dude.”
My head snaps toward the voice I recognize. Willa, Cade Eaton’s fiancée, is standing beside me. She has her baby slung on her hip, wild red mane flowing around her stunning face, and indignation rolling off of her in waves.
Willa: “I know you did not just cut my sister-in-law off and pretend like you didn’t see her.”
Her voice. It’s loud. And everyone hears it. I swear a pin could drop in the place. I want to fold in on myself, like a tidy little piece of origami. Transform into something else entirely. Something that no one can see or recognize. Maybe even with wings so I could fly away.
Guy: “Seriously?”
The guy gives Willa an annoyed look.
Guy: “She’s a Jan—”
Willa: “She’s an Eaton. But further to that, she’s a human. A woman. And you, my friend, are an asshole.”
The man’s brows shoot up on his forehead. First Mary and now him. It never fails to impress me that in a small town big enough for me to not know everyone’s name, they all know mine. The man still doesn’t move. To be fair, I think she’s shocked him into stillness. Willa’s arm shoots out, pointing behind me.
Willa: “Back of the bus, dickhead. Who’s your mama? I’d like to call her and ask how she raised you so I can file it away under what not to do.”
Bailey: How do most guys like a girl to have her pubic hair?
Beau: Bailey, honest to god. You can’t just lead with things like this.
Bailey: Can you just tell me? It’s hard to know. In porn, it’s nothing at all. But I know porn isn’t real life. So like, what am I supposed to do? What’s the norm out there?
Beau: Whatever you like best. Any guy who holds a strong opinion on how you style your pubic hair doesn’t deserve to be between your legs.
Bailey: So maybe a triangle or a strip? I can’t decide.
Beau: Decide some other time. When it doesn’t involve me.
Bailey: It’s the final hour over here. I’m in the bath. Razor in hand.
Beau: Why do you insist on asking me things like this?
Bailey: Because you’ve presumably seen a lot of pussies.
Beau: Bailey, just stop.
Bailey: “I know you’re scared of losing control around me.”
Her chin tips up as though she’s told me something that will make me back down. Run me off. It doesn’t.
Beau: “No, I’m scared of you becoming something I can’t live without.”
She sucks in a breath as I stalk confidently toward her.
Beau: “I’m scared of taking something I don’t deserve, something we both know will lead to a bigger mess than we’re already in.”
I kneel beside the bath, propping my elbows on the edge and staring her down.
Bailey: “This isn’t a mess—”
Beau: “I’m scared of having to go to work tomorrow and spending all day with a hard-on because I’m wondering if you went for a triangle or strip.”
All she does is stare back and breathe heavily as I reach into the hot, soapy water and trail a hand over her thigh to her knee. Leaning closer, I whisper against her ear,
Beau: “And I’m fucking scared of what I’ll do when the day comes I find out some other fucker gets to help you decide these things.”
Beau: “If I leave this bathroom right now, what are you going to do?”
Heat lashes at my cheeks, spilling down over my chest. My breasts are full, my nipples peaked almost painfully.
Beau: “Tell me, Bailey. I wanna hear it. I can see you. You’re making a mess on the edge of my tub. If I get up and walk out right now, what am I gonna hear you doing from the other side of that door?”
My mind races. A little part of me wants to clam up on him right now. Tap out. This water feels too deep for someone who hasn’t spent much time swimming. But I’m a survivor. And I want this.
Bailey: “Probably play with myself until I come with your name on my lips,”
I admit in a hushed tone. His hands move up to my inner thighs, one on each side, then his thumbs press up over my outer lips. He’s teasing me. I arch my spine, teasing right back.
Beau: “Seems unfair that you get to play with this pretty pussy when I’m the one who’s been down on his knees doing all the hard work.”
Beau: “New rule, Bailey.”
He points at my left hand, slung over the edge of the tub, and then between my legs.
Beau: “So long as you’re wearing that ring, this pussy is mine.”
My heart thunders at how base he sounds, staking a claim to my body.
Beau: “Next time you find yourself thinking you’re going to pull that box of toys out and play with it all by yourself, you’re going to offer it to me first.”
Bailey: “If this is you offering some sort of pity sex, I don’t want it.”
I scoff and hang my head. This girl.
Bailey: “I’m serious, Beau.”
She walks toward me.
Bailey: “If I’m going to lose my virginity, it’s going to be hot. Not sad.”
I bark out a dry laugh and swap to staring up at the ceiling as she approaches.
Beau: “Dear God, send help. I’m so far out of my depth with my fiancée.”
She points at the ceiling as though adding to my fake prayer.
Bailey: “Same for me, big fella. Send help. I’m engaged to the most confusing man in the world.”
Then she moves past me and crawls onto the bed.
Beau: “You’re going to stay?”
I turn to ask. She tugs back the covers and wriggles in with a grumbled,
Bailey: “I can’t believe our military thought you were cut out for special ops. Get in. I’m tired.”
Her hand pats the mattress matter-of-factly, and she flops back on the pillows like she owns the place.
Ford: “I’m sure my sister only sang my praises to you,”
he says as he turns and unhooks the red velvet rope.
Ford: “She’s got a real knack for that.”
He snorts and gestures us through. I chuckle.
Beau: “A special way with words, for sure. But I know she means well. Still, makes me wonder what she said about us.”
He grins now, pointing at a table for us along the dropped dance floor.
Ford: “I believe the text message I received mentioned her GI Joe brother-in-law and his jailbait fiancée.”
Bailey gasps and covers her mouth to stifle a giggle, the massive engagement ring on her finger sparkling as she does. I just shake my head. Fucking Willa.
Ford: “For what it’s worth,”
Ford continues as Bailey and I slide into our seats across from each other,
Ford: “I think you make a lovely couple and my sister belongs in a straitjacket.”
Bailey: “I felt you hard against me, Beau. You gonna tell me that didn’t happen?”
Her voice takes on a venomous tone, frustration humming at the back of her throat.
Bailey: “You got some big, mature, paternal words of wisdom for me about what I should and shouldn’t do with my body? Because so help me g—”
My hand shoots forward, fingers curling into her hair. Until I’m fisting it, tipping her face up to mine while I step up close, toe to toe with her, cutting her off.
Beau: “Bailey, stop running your mouth or I’ll find another creative way to keep it busy.”
Beau: “I’m so fucking hung up on you, it’s not even funny,”
I confess quietly, and then press a kiss to her belly button. She shivers, fingers gliding down the back of my neck. I don’t expect her to say anything. Or to feel the same way. I’m too old. She’s too young. Too good for me when it comes down to it. Which is why it sends me reeling when she whispers,
Bailey: “Wherever you’re hanging from . . . I think I’m on the same hook.”
Beau: “I’m done pretending to be head over heels in love with you because I’m legitimately head over heels in love with you. And acting like I’m not tears me up.”
She slowly nods her head, understanding flaring to life in her eyes. And then . . . something more playful? Her head tilts, her arms cross, and her mouth takes on a teasing curve.
Bailey: “What if I told you I don’t want to be engaged to you?”
I drop my lips closer drawn in by the heat from her skin. We breathe each other’s breath.
Beau: “Then I’d call you a fucking liar, sugar.”
Bailey: “Do you really love me?”
Do I love her? God. What a pedestrian question, one that feels like it doesn’t encompass all the feelings I have for her. It doesn’t seem like enough. But I’ll keep telling her, keep showing her, until I figure out better words to describe the way I feel about her.
Beau: “Bailey Jansen, I love you,”
I murmur as our faces dance close to one another, exchanging soft kisses. We’re in this kind of lull. Standing on a precipice, ready to topple over the edge.
Bailey: “How do you know?”
I kiss just below her ear, reveling in the way she tilts her head. My lips move down to her neck.
Beau: “I just do.”
I kiss her shoulder, right beside the tied strap.
Bailey: “I don’t think anyone has ever loved me.”
I freeze. The pain in my chest is sharp, instant, acute. She says it like it’s a fact. I’ve seen a lot of sad shit in my life, but none of it has wounded me the way that one sentence just did.
I don’t know what to say. What is a person supposed to say to that? Are words enough? It strikes me that they’re not. A boy might stand here waiting for her to say it back, but I don’t need that validation.
Bailey might not know what love is, but I do. Love is telling me I’m acting like an asshole when no one else will. Love is taking me shopping to find shoes that don’t rub my feet raw. It’s waking up every goddamn night for weeks to swim in the river with me, so I don’t have a nightmare. Bailey doesn’t need flowery words. Bailey needs proof. I lift my head, getting lost in the inky depths of her irises.
Beau: “Then let me be the first to do that too.”
Beau: “Should I keep going?”
Her nod is fast, slightly frantic.
Bailey: “Yes. Please.”
My lips quirk as I work her underwear down her thighs. She’s still. Too still.
Beau: “I like it when you’re so sweet and polite, Bailey.”
A nervous laugh tumbles from her lips, and she breathes again.
Bailey: “Fuck you, Beau.”
My cheek twitches. There’s the girl I know.
Beau: “You like it when I tell you what to do?”
I kiss his skin again, trying to act more coy than I’m feeling inside. I do like it.
Bailey: “Maybe.”
He sucks my opposite nipple, and a rush of wetness pools between my legs. He smiles against my breast before a sharp nip once again leaves me gasping.
Beau: “Well, in that case, quit fucking around and sit on my cock, Bailey.”
You don’t tell a person you love them with the expectation they’ll say it back. You tell them because you want to. You tell them because it’s true.
Beau: “Do you know what brats get?”
She bites down on her bottom lip, but she’s not worried. She’s trying not to smile.
Bailey: “Hopefully spanked.”
I groan and let my eyes fall shut as I rub my lips over the apple of her cheek.
Beau: “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.”
She chuckles and turns her face into mine as she whispers,
Bailey: “But what a way to go. Am I right?”
Then she kisses me, and I let her. Because she’s not wrong. This would be the way to go.
Bailey: “Why are you bringing me tips?”
Beau: “Because it was your shift.”
Bailey: “I quit.”
Beau: “I worked it for you anyway.”
She sniffs and her nose wiggles as she glances away.
Bailey: “Didn’t know you could bartend.”
Beau: “I can’t, and Gary was really mean to me all night.”
Her dark eyes laser in on me and I can see her fighting her lips into a downward curve at that tidbit.
Bailey: “Good.”
Bailey: “Stop agreeing with me. We’re still fighting.”
I hold my hands up in surrender and start backing away from her.
Beau: “Sorry. My bad. It’s just that I am also hashtag team Bailey.”
She shakes her head at me.
Bailey: “You’re relentless, you know that?”
And I just give her a salute and a wink. Because yeah, I am. No one has ever showed up for Bailey, but she’s about to get the full experience.
Beau: “No, sugar. When it comes to you, I’m downright hopeless.”
Beau: “Bailey, Bailey, Bailey. You will change. You’re . . . ugh. Saying your age out loud makes me feel old.”
Bailey: “You are old,”
she quips, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
Beau: “You’re twenty-two. You start university in six weeks. Of course you’re going to change. Nobody stays the same at your age, and in my case, thank fucking god, cause you’d have hated twenty-two-year-old me.”
She laughs and I carry on.
Beau: “And we’ll change. And we’ll have difficulties. Because that’s life. You don’t recognize the highs without the lows, sugar. I’ve changed too.”
I grip her shoulders and nudge her away from me to look her in the eye.
Beau: “That’s how I knew you were it. That’s how I know I’ll love you in every version of yourself, because we’re all constantly changing. Growing. Becoming.”
Beau: “Sorry, man, this is my two weeks’ notice.”
He just grunts.
Cade: “That’s fine. You’re the worst employee I’ve ever had.”
Harvey: “That’s your announcement?”
My brows furrow.
Beau: “Yeah.”
Harvey: “That’s the stupidest announcement I’ve ever been fool enough to get excited about.”
Jasper wheezes a laugh and tries to cover it with his hand.
Harvey: “No, listen. Winter announcing her baby’s secret paternity at a family dinner? That was an announcement.”
Winter: “Gotta win at something sometimes, I guess,”
she mutters from beside me.
Harvey: “Me telling you all that Cordelia and I are together? That’s an announcement.”
A table-wide intake of breath sounds out. Cordelia covers her face with her palm, but Harvey ignores it all.
Harvey: “But you and your fiancée buy a house—a damn nice house—in the city, where she’s going to be spending the next, what? Seven years, at least? And you’re announcing this to us like it isn’t the most obvious thing in the world? Y’all are a bunch of attention seekers. Or dumb. I’m not sure. Either way, just wild.”
Harvey: “And quite frankly, if Sloane can marry her cousin, I figure I can—”
Harvey starts up again, and I groan.
Jasper’s head drops, his palms pressing into his eye sockets while Sloane bursts out laughing, rubbing soothing circles on his back.
Harvey: “Then I can be with Cordelia.”
Jasper: “She’s not my cousin,”
Jasper huffs through a laugh. Harvey elbows him playfully.
Harvey: “Sure, sure. And Cordelia isn’t my sister-in-law.”
Sloane: “Well, if we’re all laying things out on the table. Since Harvey brought up Jasper and me . . .”
She places a small black-and-white photo on the table.
Sloane: “I’m fourteen weeks.”
She glances at Harvey, so happy that she’s fucking glowing.
Sloane: “Brought the sonogram so you can see there is indeed no tail.”
Ford: “Willa, if you ever stop making fun of me, I’ll know you’re not okay. So check in now and then. Tell me something mean so I know you’re still well. But since we’re not texting right now and I don’t see you that often, I’ll take this opportunity to tell you I love you and I am wildly proud of the woman you’ve become. It takes a special man to keep up with a formidable person like you, and I’m so glad you dropped your panties in front of one who can.”
I agree! It could have been way better, and I was mad when nothing really happened! your review was spot on!