Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Abbie ended the call with Teddy, her fingers gripping the phone a little tighter than necessary as she turned to Beau. His eyes, sharp and watchful, locked on her immediately. She couldn’t decide if his steady gaze was comforting or maddening. Maybe both.

She slide her phone into her bag with more force than needed, “He wants to meet tonight for dinner.”

Beau crossed his arms over his chest, his posture casual, but there was nothing casual about the way he studied her. “Where’s this steakhouse he was talking about?”

“The steakhouse on Main Street,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You heard. Seven o’clock.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “All right. I’ll be nearby.”

Abbie let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Nearby? You mean you’ll be the guy sitting in the corner wearing sunglasses and a trench coat? Beau, he knows what you look like. If Teddy has anything shady planned, he’s not going to do it with you lurking in the background.”

Beau’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, the kind that was both infuriating and far too appealing. “First of all, sweetheart, this isn’t my first undercover operation. I’ve done this kind of thing more times than I can count. Second, you’d be surprised how easy it is to blend in when you know what you’re doing.”

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “And I’m just supposed to trust that you’ll magically be invisible?”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone annoyingly confident. “Trust me.”

“Trust you?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a big ask for someone who thinks calling me sweetheart is a good idea.”

His grin widened. “Trust me on this, Carter. I’ve got it under control.”

She huffed, pacing a few steps away before turning back to him. “Fine. But if you blow this, I’m not letting you live it down.”

“Noted,” he said, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. “But I won’t. You just focus on keeping Teddy talking and staying calm. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Stay calm?” she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief. “You make it sound like he’s planning on killing me or something.”

“I didn’t say that,” Beau said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But you do have a tendency to... let’s say... rub people the wrong way.”

“Do I now? Because I don’t hold any punches and I don’t shy away from speaking my mind?” She shot back, stepping closer to him. “And don’t act like you’re any different. You’re the king of irritating tactics, Detective Elliott.”

He stepped closer. So close, she could feel his heat. “Are you saying I get under yours?”

His words sent a flicker of something warm through her chest, but she shoved it down, refusing to let it distract her. “Yes, I am.” She saw the look of surprise in his eyes before his gaze dropped to her lips. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her and that would be trouble. She stepped away. “You are like a bad rash.” He grinned. Abbie’s heart took a little tumble. “Look, all kidding aside, I don’t need a babysitter. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Never said you did,” he replied smoothly. “But I’m not about to leave you alone with a guy like Teddy without backup. So, whether you like it or not, I’ll be there. Nearby. And you won’t even know I’m around.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to gauge how serious he was. The infuriating thing was, she believed him. He might drive her batshit crazy, but she sensed he was really good at his job. And, as much as she hated to admit it, knowing he’d be nearby made her feel... safer. Not that she’d ever tell him that.

“Fine,” she muttered, grabbing her bag. “But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me?” he said, feigning innocence. “Never.”

She rolled her eyes, turning toward the door. “I’ll see you at seven tonight, Detective.”

“No, you won’t. That’s the whole point,” he called after her. And then, just as she reached the door, he added with a teasing lilt in his voice, “Sweetheart.”

Abbie froze, her hand tightening on the doorknob, the warmth of Beau’s words still wrapping around her like an infuriatingly soft blanket she couldn’t shake off. She didn’t look back—didn’t dare. If she so much as glanced over her shoulder, he’d see it all: the frustration, the heat, the maddening pull he had over her that made her want to slap him one minute and… well, something else entirely the next. No. He didn’t get to see any of that.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed the door open and stepped out, her boots knocking against the floor. She needed that sound, that sharp staccato rhythm, to ground her in reality. Because right now, she was too dangerously aware of the way Beau’s low, lazy chuckle followed her like a shadow. It tickled something deep in her chest, something she didn’t want to name, and it took everything in her not to spin around and wipe that smug grin off his face—with words, of course.

As the cool air hit her skin, she tilted her chin higher and kept walking. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. There were bigger fish to fry—like whatever the hell Teddy Van Meter was up to. And yet… Beau’s voice lingered, smooth and teasing, replaying in her head on an aggravating loop.

Sweetheart.

Her grip on her car keys tightened. Damn him. Sweetheart . The nerve of that man. And the worst part? It wasn’t just the word. It was the way he’d said it, that low, knowing drawl that made her stomach flutter before she could snuff out the feeling. Damn him.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she let out a sharp exhale and started the engine, gripping the wheel like it might keep her grounded. But it didn’t. Not when the memory of Beau’s infuriating smirk kept flashing in her mind. That cocky confidence of his, the way he leaned against the desk like he had all the time in the world—it shouldn’t have made her pulse race. It shouldn’t have made her skin hum. And yet, it did.

This is ridiculous, Abbie. Get a grip.

She shook her head, trying to push away the heat pooling low in her belly, the tingling awareness that refused to fade. Beau Elliott was hands-off, plain and simple. A man like that—smug, relentless, and far too charming for his own good—was the kind of complication she didn’t need. She had enough on her plate without adding "falling for the asshat detective" to the list.

Besides, she told herself firmly, she was only here temporarily. Once she straightened out her grandfather’s mess and dealt with Teddy, she’d be back in Manhattan where she belonged, far away from small-town distractions with blue eyes and teasing grins.

Abbie let out a groan, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she drove down the quiet country road. She couldn’t let him distract her. She wouldn’t. She’d dealt with smooth-talking men before—Teddy, for one—and she wasn’t about to let Beau Elliott derail her focus.

Still, there was something different about him. Something that made it hard to lump him into the same category as Teddy or any of the other polished, predictable men she’d dated. Beau was… rough around the edges. Unpolished. Infuriatingly arrogant. Maybe that’s what made him so damn hard to ignore.

Her cheeks flushed at the thought, and she scowled at her own reflection in the rearview mirror. Stop it. Stop thinking about him. Focus on the task at hand.

Teddy. Dinner. Strategy.

Abbie inhaled deeply, forcing her thoughts back to the problem she could actually control. Teddy was a snake, and she had no doubt he was up to something. His offer for the ranch was too generous, too convenient, and it set off all her alarms. She needed to figure out his angle, and dinner tonight would be her chance to do just that. If Beau wanted to play spy, fine. But he’d better not interfere.

And yet, as much as she tried to focus on Teddy, her mind kept wandering back to Beau. The way he filled a room without even trying. The way he always seemed to know her better than he had any right to. The way his voice dipped just enough to send a shiver down her spine when he called her sweetheart, even though she should hate it.

“Ugh,” she muttered, gripping the wheel tighter as her frustration bubbled over. This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t the type to get flustered over a man, especially one as maddening as Beau Elliott. She was a professional, for God’s sake. Cool, composed, and in control. Beau was a distraction, nothing more. A temporary thorn in her side.

But as she pulled into the driveway, her thoughts still tangled with his, she couldn’t quite convince herself that was true. The way he looked at her, the way he challenged her—it was like he saw past all her defenses, straight to the core of who she was. And that terrified her as much as it thrilled her.

And yet, as she walked into the house, her thoughts lingered on the detective who managed to stir something in her she hadn’t felt in a long time. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted to feel at all.