Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The rest of the evening with Beau was, well, incredible . Like, as in vibing-on-all-levels kind of incredible.

After the tree-lighting ceremony, we did a little shopping before the department store closed to get him some clothes. He paid for everything with money he’d kept from crabbing, which wasn’t much but enough for jeans, tees, and socks. No undies.

Thank you, god of fantasies . The commando memories would live on.

One thing I noticed, though, was that Beau had the most incredible luck. He’d had a list of everything he needed to buy, and there they were, waiting for him on a shelf in the store. No exaggeration. The button-fly jeans he wanted were right next to a navy blue T-shirt and a white sweater, both on his list. In his size. In the sock aisle. Next to a bag of socks also on his list. What luck .

“I wish I could get that lucky when I shop,” I’d said. “Would save tons of time.”

He’d tapped the side of his head. “It’s all in here.”

Yeah, sure. I’d tried the whole manifestation thing. Never worked. “Can you do my shopping from now on? Make sure there’s a bag of cash on my list, wuddja?”

He’d laughed. “Who needs money when the universe provides?”

“Someone is in a very optimistic mood tonight.” I’d smiled, thinking how good it felt to see him like this.

After, we went back to my place, and he made bow-tie pasta from a recipe he’d learned growing up. We laughed, drank wine, and told each other embarrassing childhood stories. But the biggest surprise of the evening? The thing that rattled me down to the core? I found out how much we had in common:

Loved holiday music from the 1950s.

Favorite colors: red and green.

Hated black licorice.

Secretly liked rom-coms and true crime, but only cried for movies when the hero or heroine broke free of their past.

Spicy food, yes.

Sweets only during the holidays.

Always felt guilty when we had over fifty items in our carts because the people behind us had to wait so long for their turn.

We. Both. Loved. Christmas.

And puppies. Couldn’t walk past one without petting their furry little faces. Cats were cool, but their independent, curious nature made us worry too much.

Most of all, Beau and I discovered that we both grew up feeling restless all the time, like a cosmic itch we couldn’t scratch. It used to drive my parents crazy when I was a child because all I wanted to do was run around, exploring or taking things apart and putting them back together again. I was bad at that last part.

I also read a lot, but they were always “practical” books, like how a rocket ship worked. Sometimes I dug holes in search of treasure, or I panned for gold in the backyard pond. Then one day, I got into crafting Christmas decorations and never stopped.

Beau was still learning to deal with his “wild energy,” still as restless as ever. Which was the very reason I convinced myself that our similarities were not a sign. I’d only be setting myself up for disappointment to fall for someone like him, and I knew it.

The only problem now was that the entire evening, Beau kept smiling, and when he did, his face lit up in a display that was impossible not to stare at. His dark hair seemed to shine a little more, and that beard he’d shaved off on Halloween was now a thick carpet of black. Together, they framed his face like a picture of radiant joy.

Was it because someone finally believed in him or I’d offered unconditional friendship? I didn’t know, but one thing was becoming clear: Beau was probably not good friend material for me. He was hot, steamy, dream material.

Case in point: last night I woke up to him shaking me. He’d said that I was making sounds like an alley cat with a broken leg. Reywrrr! Reywrrr!

“I guess I was having a nightmare,” I’d said. But really, I’d been dreaming of riding him cowgirl style on a sleigh. There were lights all around us, and people were cheering as we slushed on by like a portable winter porn movie.

Thankfully, Beau left early this morning, saying that he had to “take care of more business,” which gave me the opportunity to cool off. Aka flick one out. Seriously, I didn’t know how much more friendship I could take, and it had been less than twenty-four hours.

At least tomorrow I could go to work and let numbers distract me until my eyes crossed.

With laundry done and my apartment dusted and vacuumed, Sunday night rolled around, but there was no sign of Beau. He didn’t have a cell, so there was no way to call and make sure he was okay.

Convincing myself I was being silly for worrying about a man who’d lived as a proud, self-sufficient hobo for ten years, I brushed my teeth, got into my PJs, and tucked myself into bed. But as I tossed and turned, my dark thoughts wouldn’t let up.

What if something had finally happened to him? He could be in a ditch, bleeding or choking on a sandwich.

“Dammit.” I got up, slid on my tennis shoes and coat, and grabbed my purse. I got into my truck and drove around, hitting the main streets around my neighborhood.

No sign of him.

I felt so worried, I didn’t even enjoy the lights, which were spectacular during the holidays. The homeowners on my street, Peppermint Street, always went all out, decorating the fronts of their houses and trees. It was tradition.

After over an hour, I finally gave up. I had work in the morning, so I’d simply need to trust that Beau could take care of himself.

On the way inside my building, I bumped into Jason going out the front door.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s just that I have a friend staying with me, and he hasn’t come back yet. Was a little worried, so took a spin around the block.” Or ten spins.

“A friend, huh?” He wiggled his brows. “Does he have a name?”

I felt embarrassed to admit who the friend was— I mean, Tent Guy. Hello —but my worry for Beau superseded my discomfort over being judged. “You remember the man in the red tent?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”

Huh? Jason was the one who shunned me the first time I saw Beau and wanted him removed. On the other hand, the last time Jason and I spoke, he only recalled seeing Beau just the once despite the fact that Beau had stuck around for weeks. Still, it was odd that he didn’t remember Beau at all.

“Are you sure you don’t remember him?” I pushed. “I complained about a tent right next to the dumpster.”

Jason wiggled his lips from side to side. “Ohhh…that guy. Wait, he’s your friend ?” Jason chuckled.

“Don’t be rude. He’s a really nice person.”

“Hey, to each their own,” he said. “I just never pegged you for the type of woman who went for older men.”

“Older? He’s my age.”

Jason gave me a look like I was insane. “Maybe we’re talking about two different people. The guy I saw was in his late sixties. Kind of thick in the middle. Long white beard.”

I laughed. “That’s definitely not Beau.”

“Hmm. Well, I’ll keep an eye out for a lost guy about your age.”

“Thanks. Night, Jason.”

“Night.”

I went up to my place, scratching my head. Maybe Beau had let some old guy crash in his tent. It wouldn’t be entirely out of character to help a stranger.

I snuggled under my covers and finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty apartment. No nutty, dark coffee. No delicious smell of pancakes. And no Beau.

I was officially worried, but I had to be at work. There was a big insurance quote due for a developer planning to build a sprawling, three-hundred-home development. My bosses would not be happy if I turned in my risk assessment late.

I rushed to get dressed and headed for the door. Two steps outside, I bumped into Beau coming up the walkway. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious. Both. Definitely both.

“What happened to you?” I asked calmly.

He rubbed the back of his messy dark hair. “I stopped by the shelter yesterday and ended up helping out with some repairs in their kitchen. After that, I was walking back here and saw a For Hire sign in a window. I applied, and they gave me a job right on the spot.”

What luck . “Seriously? Doing what?”

“Baking, which you know I love. Though, I’ve been doing it all night. They had a big cookie order for a party.”

“That’s great, Beau. Congratulations,” I said tightly, trying not to be mad. “So, is this a full-time gig?” If yes, it meant he planned to stick around. That would be fantastic!

“Could be. Right now, I’m seasonal and part-time.”

Seasonal was okay, too—a step in the right direction.

He added, “I hope you don’t mind me staying with you a few more days?”

Oh, definitely I minded. Seeing his gorgeous face would be torture, but this was what he needed to sort out his life. “You can stay as long as you like.”

“I actually found a room for rent. I can move in as early as next week.”

I blinked. This was incredible news. I mean, renting a room was a commitment to stay put. At least for a while. He just wouldn’t be doing it with me.

I masked the disappointment stirring in my chest. “It’s all happening so fast. I’m really happy for you.”

“You have no idea how fast,” he muttered. “It is all very unexpected.”

“Sorry?”

“I meant—you have already been so generous, and I cannot rely on you forever. An independent woman like you needs her space to…embrace big life changes. Yes?”

Why did I feel like Beau was speaking in code? “I guess so?”

“Exactly.” His eyes moved to my lips.

Feeling self-aware, I licked them and then regretted it. I didn’t want him to think I was, well, asking him to kiss me, even if right now the only thing I wanted was to throw my arms around the man and shove my tongue down his throat.

“Like I said, I’m here for you.” I smiled warmly. “I just have one ask: could you let me know you’re all right next time?”

He beamed down at me. “Were you worried all night?”

Yes, and I wasted a gallon of gas driving around looking for you in a ditch. “A little.” Suddenly, I remembered the time. “Oh, hey, I have to get to work. Will I see you tonight?”

“I have to be at the bakery around six today.”

In other words, he’d be gone before I got home.

“Oh.” My heart sank a little farther.

“But Meri,” he added sternly, “you do not have to lose sleep over me. I’m fairly resilient at this point in my life. Nothing to worry about.”

I got that he had some serious street smarts, but… “I care about you, so the worrying comes with the territory.”

He stepped in closer, like he maybe wanted to kiss me, but then he stopped himself. “I’ll let you get going. See you tomorrow morning maybe.”

“Sure.” I headed for my truck, feeling completely sunk. I’d hardly get to see him, and then he’d be moving out on his own. At least I’d get to spend time with him this weekend.

“Hey,” he said as I walked away, “I forgot to mention I have to work this weekend, so I can’t go with you. I hope you don’t mind.”

Crap. My stomach filled with concrete blocks made of solid disappointment.

Maybe it was all for the best. We were just friends, after all. Not lovers. Not a couple. Not anything more than two people who’d met next to a dumpster in an alley and almost had unforgettable sex.

“No worries!” I waved over my shoulder. “You can always come home with me for Christmas.”

I winced as I kept walking to my truck. I’d sounded so desperate. There’s always Christmas, Beau. Blah, blah, blah, I mocked myself. I’m not planning your future like a sad, lonely woman.

The worst part was that he’d said nothing in return. And why should he? I’d friend-zoned him, and he’d friend-zoned me right back.

But what choice did I have? He was who he was—a man who’d grown accustomed to being a leaf in the wind—and I didn’t want to love someone who’d break my heart. All that aside, I’d wanted to see him happy and start building a life for himself. Now he was happy. Or, at least, he was taking steps to get there.

So then why was I feeling miserable all of a sudden? Maybe because each step he took led further away from me.