Page 85 of Breaking All The Rules
“Why would I do that?” she demanded.
“Because it’s a direct police order.”
Winona snorted. “Settle down, RoboCop. In what universe would I obey your orders?”
Austin and Beatrice exchanged a look. On any other day, it’d have been cute to witness Arlo being owned by an erotic romance author, but now wasn’t the time or the place.
“What are you doing here?” Austin demanded as he picked up Beatrice’s dress and handed it to her before reaching for his own clothes.
“Winona reported that there were lights flashing around down here and a woman yelling let me go.”
Austin and Beatrice exchanged a guilty look. He’d not realized they were so close to Winona’s place. Sorry, Beatrice mouthed, and Austin almost laughed out loud despite the absurdity of the situation.
“Well, as you can see,” Austin said, shoving his legs into his jeans, not bothering with his underwear for efficiency’s sake, “there’s nothing to see here.” Not now anyway. “Perhaps we could have some privacy and we’ll head back to town. And maybe…we can never speak of this again.”
“No arguments from me,” Arlo agreed, his voice laced with relief, like seeing his deputy with his balls in his hand had been the epitome of too much information.
“Ah…not okay with me,” Winona said. “Bea…call me tomorrow.”
Austin watched a quick grin curl Beatrice’s mouth. “Sure thing,” she said.
“Okay,” Arlo announced, flicking the flashlight beam at the ground. “Let’s go, Winona.”
Winona huffed out a breath and mumbled something about Arlo not being the boss of her, but she departed with him without further incident, although she didn’t go quietly. Their particular brand of bickering banter gradually faded as they moved farther away.
Austin glanced at Beatrice, who was dressed now, her wet hair slicked back, water droplets from the wet ends dripping onto her shoulders. “That was…unexpected.”
She laughed, and he joined her, relieved she was seeing the funny side. “C’mon,” she said after their laughter died. “Let’s go home.”
Home. His breath hitched a little at the word, and Austin suddenly felt warmed all the way through. Did she mean it? Or was it just a generic term for the place she lived? Because Beatrice felt a lot like home to him.
But was it reciprocated? Or was he just a stopgap?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bea was admiring her latest sketch for Greet Cute around lunchtime the next day when her phone rang. The sketch featured Cranky Bea and Princess looking their most bedraggled—Princess’s overbite was more pronounced, and Bea’s boobs had hit new lows—but they were both sporting globs of glittery blue eye makeup and big rouged cheeks. The caption was going to read: Too glam to give a damn.
Just looking at it gave her a little ache in the center of her chest. Of happiness and joy and…accomplishment. Was this how her mom had felt about her creations? Would she—a bona fide artist with regular shows in prestigious LA art galleries—have approved of her daughter’s Cranky Bea and Princess cards?
Bea wished she knew. She wished her mom was still around to ask her.
Searching for her phone in the debris of stuff on her cat-hair-strewn duvet—an open, empty pizza box; multiple scrunched-up sheets of paper towel she hadn’t yet gotten around to tossing in the wastebasket in the middle of the floor; art supplies she’d acquired online; her yellow dress—she found it under a sleeping Princess. Hardly surprising given the cat was stretched out across half the bed like some kind of furry Slinky.
Princess opened her good eye and let out an irritated meow. The phone stopped ringing just as she hit the Answer button, but, glancing at the screen, Bea noted it was from Kim and hit Redial.
“Hey, you,” Kim said as she answered.
“Sorry,” Bea apologized. “I couldn’t find the phone.”
“It’s fine, thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”
They discussed the dossier of ideas for the next month’s designs that Bea had been working on and had sent off last night just prior to leaving for Jack’s. Bea’s heart fluttered for a moment, thinking about Jack’s, about how she’d felt Austin’s eyes on her body the entire time she’d danced and how damn wonderful it had made her feel.
“I’ve got another proposal for you.”
Kim’s words were like a machete severing Bea’s wandering thoughts. “Oh?”
“We want to get national exposure across all media for Cranky Bea. We think it’s smart to capitalize on the free viral media we’ve got into something more long-term and sustainable. We want to run an ad campaign, and with your advertising background, we want to put you in charge of it; we want you to run the show.”
