Page 51 of Unexpected Shot
“Let’s just say it’s been a day.” I take a pull of the beer, trying to relax into my barstool.
“Care to tell ol’ Frank?” he asks. “Been a minute since I’ve gotten to play therapist.”
I smile and shake my head. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
“Damnit. These guys don’t tell me shit. And when they do, it’s boring as hell.”
I laugh at his joke, because Frank really is one of the best advice-givers I’ve ever had the pleasure of talking with. But when I said I was good, it’s not because I didn’t want his advice. I just don’t know where to begin.
I want to think storming away from Beau had nothing to do with Courtney. That I was just pissed at Beau for dragging me away from the press conference like a child. But I’d be lying. It had everything to do with her, and the sudden jealous surge I felt sweep through me. It was just a lot of emotions, and they were ready to explode out of me. I needed to get away and freak out in private.
Fuck. I’m an idiot. Why should I care who Beau sleeps with? Why should I care about Beau at all? Sure, he’s my partner for the next four days, but that’s where it stops. He’s still Beau. The cheater. The cocky S.O.B. The pompous ass.
But he’s also the man I think was ready to go to battlewithme today, not against me. The one who, if I’d asked, would’ve brought me into his arms and just let me cry, even if he had no idea why I was doing it.
Again…idiot.
I can’t be having these feelings for Beau. If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s holding a grudge. And I’ve been doing it brilliantly for twenty years. So why am I suddenly finding myself ready to forget what he did? Or maybe not forgive, but…move on? Part of me wants to, but part of me feels like it’s wrong to just let it go away.
He confuses me. His damn cologne makes me go stupid. And the golf pants? I’m such a whore for a man in well-fitted khakis, it’s sick.
I’m confused. I feel like I’m torn between the side of me who wants to remember that I hate him, and the other side who wants to do something stupid. Sayfuck it,and kiss him.
To add insult to injury, when I did go back to my room, I was greeted by a text message from Michael. Smug asshole wanted to apologize if he was out of line with any questions, and wondered if we could meet for dinner to, in his words, “clear the air.”
I didn’t even respond. I blocked his number, along with Beau’s. Because the last thing I need is him trying to find me to try and fix me.
“Did you invite your golf friends?”
“What?” I ask, shaking my head as I get my bearings. “Invite who?”
Frank nods toward the door. “You’re the only golfer’s ever been in this bar. And now we can make him number two.”
I’m not that drunk yet, so I can’t be imagining Beau stepping through the door of the dive bar. He looks to the right and left, probably trying to see what this place is about, before his eyes come back to the center and lock on mine.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he grumbles, walking toward the bar. “Out of all the gin joints in all the world.”
“Humphrey Bogart you are not,” I say, spinning my bar stool to its original position.
I do my best to ignore him, but it’s hard when he decides to sit right next to me.
And he’s wearing that fucking cologne.
Beau doesn’t say anything, just stares ahead at the bottles lining the back of the bar. He doesn’t take out his phone. He doesn’t even look up at one of the two televisions that Frank sprung for a few years back.
This should be fine. If he’s not talking, that means we’re not fighting. If we’re not talking, I don’t have to pick fights to give me a semblance of normal. If we’re just sitting still, existing next to each other, nothing will happen.
Perfect.
And it is. We don’t talk for a minute. Then five. Beau does order a drink from Frank, tipping way more than he needed to on a draft beer and a shot of house whiskey, before eventually taking out his phone and scrolling on it.
“What do you want!”
My outburst not only startles Beau, but also Frank and a few of the regulars I came to know over the years.
“I wanted a drink. I came to a bar. I’m getting a drink.”
“Don’t play coy with me. You followed me here.”
