Page 17 of Breaking All The Rules
“Okay.” She nodded. “Let’s do it.”
“Great,” Austin said, and Bea noticed how he was very careful not to seem too triumphant, but he was clearly pleased by her agreement. “I know the perfect spot. Why don’t I pick you up just after four out front of Déjà Brew?”
“Oh, sorry.” Bea remembered she had a prior commitment. “Can’t.”
“You have someplace else better to be?” One eyebrow kicked up. “Got a hot date?”
“As it happens, I do.” Dean and Sam were calling. “The Winchester brothers wait for no one.” She picked up her napkin and dabbed at her mouth to wipe away any pancake crumbs. “How about same time tomorrow afternoon?”
She’d have finished the season by then, and it was time she stopped hiding out in her apartment. Credence might just be a stopgap for her while she figured out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, but she had every intention of getting fully involved, so it was time she stuck her head outside.
Might as well start with Officer Syrup Lips by her side.
“Yep,” he confirmed. “Sounds like a date.”
“Nope.” Bea eyed him seriously. She might want orgasms and Austin Cooper was outrageously unsuitable, but younger men cut a little too close to home for her and was a line she would not cross.
And, in the meantime, she’d brought her vibrator. Sure, it had been a long time since she’d used it, but it had three speed settings and it never snored, ate soup too loudly, or stared at other women’s boobs.
“Definitely not a date,” she said. “A purely instructional joint outing.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “Whatever.”
Bea was so used to men always trying to push their own agendas or take an inch, she didn’t know what to do with one who wasn’t.
“See you tomorrow,” she said before heading to the counter for her pie, excruciatingly conscious of every eye in the diner following her progress but of one pair in particular staring at her like twin X-ray beams, trying to discern the word Thursday stamped across her ass.
CHAPTER FIVE
Austin nodded to Jenny the next afternoon as he leaned his shoulder into the frame of the open door of her café.
“Hey,” she greeted. “Sorry, I’ve just cleaned the machine. I can still do a mocha frappe or something, though, if you want? Or there’s soda in the fridge.”
“I’m good, thanks, Jenny.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Just waiting for Beatrice.”
“Oh.” She blinked at him, clearly surprised. “I hope you’re not harassing her, Austin Cooper.”
Austin smiled at the thought. Harassing women wasn’t his thing—professionally or privately. Credence wasn’t exactly flush with women his age, but Denver wasn’t that far away, and it was flush with women who loved a man in uniform.
“No, ma’am.” He might have gone home, showered, and traded his uniform for jeans, boots, and a T-shirt, but some habits were ingrained, and sometimes a ma’am was required. “I’ve just offered to…show her around.”
There wasn’t any point in divulging the exact nature of their afternoon mission. He might be okay pushing the limits of the law, but Arlo was a stickler for it, and there was no doubt in Austin’s mind that Arlo would write him up without thinking twice. There was no need to advertise.
“Oh.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I see. That’s right neighborly of you.”
Austin grinned at the I-call-bullshit tone in Jenny’s voice. He shrugged. “What can I say? My mama raised me right.”
She grinned back. “Yes, she did.”
“Hey.”
Austin turned at the soft voice behind him to find Beatrice. She was clearly not dressing to impress him, with yet another pair of baggy sweats teamed with a plaid shirt that sat loose around her hips, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. But it was unstained as far as he could tell, and her hair was soft around her face and shoulders, fluffy like feathers, and appeared not only brushed but like she might have actually washed it.
From what he’d seen so far of her clothing style, this was practically formal.
There was probably something really wrong with him that he found her don’t-give-a-fuck and show-as-little-skin-as-possible fashion choices such a turn-on. Yeah, they were still having some cold snaps in these parts, but until this point in his life, Austin had been much in favor of the show-all-the-skin school of fashion. He was a twenty-five-year-old male in his prime who loved how women put themselves together, and while ogling was a dick move, respectful appreciation was not.
And hell if he wasn’t appreciating Beatrice right now.
