Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

TREVOR

T oo-bright afternoon sunlight accosts me when I finally blink awake. Shit. I definitely slept in. Hurriedly grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I ignore the texts in the boyfriends’ group chat. It’s almost noon. Double shit. The rehearsal dinner is tonight. I can’t believe I slept for over twelve hours.

The phone call from my mother last night had been enough to send my brain into insomnia territory. But then Beau had been so endearing with dinner, so sweet, that her intended manipulation had turned into more of a sizzling frustration than a worrying demand. Usually, a call from one of my parents can cause my anxiety to spike, sending me into a few days of sleepless nights, but not this time.

Last night I lay in bed, just listening to the sound of the cicadas beyond the window. Only the random hoot of an owl broke through the sound of the loud insects. The scent of cedar lingers on the sheets, like they’d been tucked away waiting for use. Somehow it had all culminated to lull me into a peaceful sleep. Finally, I’d conked out at midnight, but I’d assumed I’d wake up in the morning aching for a workout.

Obviously not.

Rushing through my morning, well, my afternoon routine, I decide to let my hair air dry around my shoulders. Quiet fills the house. I softly pad through the house, peering into rooms, but don’t find Beau.

The loud clunk of machinery in the garage has me heading that way.

Soft rock music greets me along with the sight of Beau bent over a truck even older than the one we rode in yesterday. Sweat dots his shirt, making it cling to him in the most delicious way. He twists some tool in the engine and grunts when nothing happens. I need to stop ogling him.

“Morning.”

“Afternoon more like it,” Beau points out without looking at me.

“Sorry,” I reply sheepishly. Embarrassment floods through me but disappears when Beau looks at me over his shoulder, a soft smile spreading over his lips.

His gaze rakes over me, before meeting my eyes again. “We got nowhere to go until this evening, sweetheart. Don’t worry. You sleep good?”

Sweetheart . Jesus, I’m almost a puddle at his feet. The word just rolls off his tongue, sweet as honey.

“The best I’ve slept in ages,” I tell him truthfully.

He winks and returns to tinkering with the engine. “The power of a decade-old quilt sewed with love and washed a million times.”

He’s probably not far off. “Can I sit and watch you?”

Beau chuckles, rotating his wrist to do something deep inside the engine. “Sure. ’Bout entertaining as watching paint dry though.”

He really has no idea. A metal barstool sits nearby, so I park my ass on it to watch him work. Pulling out my phone, I take a few stealthy shots of him, sending one to the boyfriends’ group chat.

Look at my fake boyfriend for the weekend

Jackson

I think he’s taller than me

6’5”ish I think

Jackson

I have an inch on him

Every inch matters wink

Benji

No flirting in the group chat

We are literally just talking

Eli

Stop flirting!

Jackson

We could just be sitting in the same room and you’d accuse us of flirting because y’all think you’re funny

Benji

I know I’m funny

ANYWAY! THIS IS ABOUT ME!

Jackson

Oh he’s yelling

Benji

Everyone be quiet and let Trevor talk

Beau is delightful. I hope I can survive this wedding weekend with him.

Jackson

Sex?

Not paid for

Eli

Yeah, Trevor isn’t returning home without fucking that. Look at his BACK. That is SERIOUS back.

Thank you.

Benji

You’re going to give it away for free?

Maybe

Jackson

Good luck, babe. I gotta go. Duty calls.

Benji

Bye babes.

Eli

?

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Beau asks, coming to a stop right in front of me. A greasy red rag drags over his fingers, wiping the oil from his perfectly large hands. The man really is unfairly hot without even realizing it. The absolute best kind of men.

“My best friends,” I say, wiggling my phone at him.

“Good friends if they make you smile like that.”

I shrug. “They’re okay.”

Beau laughs deeply and walks by to lay the tools down on his workbench. He smells like sweat, hot summer days, and hard work. A shiver threatens to roll through me just from his dizzying proximity. And then he does the hottest thing a man can do. At least in my opinion. He pulls off his shirt, wipes his face, then pops one hip against his workbench.

Christ. I tried to not stare at him too much in the spring yesterday. He’s got a broad firm chest with lots of dark hair sprinkled across it. Beau has the kind of muscle born from hard work, not time in the gym. My muscles are made for pretty, but Beau’s are for long days working under the sun.

“Trevor?”

“Sorry.” I shake my head violently to rid myself of fake boyfriend musings. “Did you say something?”

“I said we need to leave here around five to get to the farm in time. It’s pretty casual but I’m planning to wear nice clothes.”

“Right,” I say, hoping my voice sounds even.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Great!” I go to hop off the stool, to flee, but Beau rests a gentle hand on my forearm. All my brain cells narrow in on his touch, the slight grease on his fingers.

“Do you want to help me?”

I blink slowly at him, confused. “Help you?”

A smirk tugs at his lips under his beard. “With the truck.”

My gaze pings over to the truck, raised up, hood up too. I’ve never even touched an engine before. I’ll probably break something. Ruin it. Like everything I touch. My thoughts must show on my face because Beau pulls his hand away, finishes wiping it with the rag, then tips his head towards the beat-up truck.

“It’s old. Easy to fix a mistake.” He heads towards the truck, and I follow, unsure of why my body won’t listen to my brain. Flee . I should be running. Beau leans against the hood, pointing down at the engine. “I’m rebuilding the engine. It had half a million miles on it. These Fords have great shells, but the engines conk out at a certain point. You see, people use trucks hard, put them away wet. So, the engines go fast.”

My mouth goes dry as I watch him point out different parts of the engine, still shirtless, his sweaty shirt now wrapped around his shoulders. Belatedly, I realize his gaze is back on me. I swallow slowly, nodding as if I’m following along. A small chuckle breaks free from his lips, and he shakes his head ruefully.

“Anyone ever taught you how to change oil?” Beau asks, curious, not judgmental.

I shake my head. “Definitely not.”

He quirks his fingers in request for me to come closer, and I do, because I’m an idiot. The smell of grease and engine wafts over me, mixed with the sweet smell of Beau’s skin and sweat. Taking my hand in his, he guides it to where I need to go, and helps me tug out a stick that’s covered in oil.

“This tells you the health of your oil,” Beau explains, voice low, soft, sending a shiver down my spine despite the heat in the garage. “I just changed it, so it looks pretty good now, but when it’s bad you can easily tell. When it’s low too.”

I nod, pretending like I understand an ounce of what he’s saying. He proceeds to show me how to change the oil, and how to change a battery too. If I ever need to do anything to my car, I’ll know now. The man is exceedingly patient, tender even as he painstakingly teaches me about the intricacies of a truck engine. When we’re done, I’m astounded to realize a few hours have passed by, making it time for us to get ready for the rehearsal.

Beau eyes me up and down, still shirtless, hair slightly messy from running his hand over it. We silently part ways in the hallway, as he heads to shower. I keep the water cold for my own shower, trying to wash away the want that’s boiling up in my veins.

Beau’s version of nice clothes is hilarious. Dressed in dark jeans that probably haven’t been worn to the farm yet, hence making them nice. Boots peek out from under the denim, and he’s sporting a light blue polo shirt that has definitely seen better days. But I can’t say he looks bad. He just looks like Beau.

He flushes at the sight of me when I meet him in the foyer of his house. I bite back a smile. Tight black dress pants, dress shoes, a striped shirt that plays up the color of my eyes. The nail in the coffin for Beau seems to be me rolling my sleeves to my forearms. His eyes linger on my left forearm just a little too long, as a deep blush fills his cheeks.

It seems Beau appreciates my efforts. He clears his throat awkwardly, then jerkily nods towards the front door. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, handsome.”

Beau laughs in frustration. “Stop with the nicknames. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“But you can call me sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” Beau says as he opens the front door for me. “’Cause you’re a sweetheart.”

“And you’re not handsome?”

Beau just shakes his head in exasperation as we climb into the truck. I’m beginning to seriously think Beau has no idea just how handsome he is. Not even just handsome. But he’s beautiful too. From the top of his head all the way to the tip of his toes. Everything about Beau Callahan checks a box for me. Even those damn ball caps that he usually wears.

Foregoing the classic Chevy, we load into Beau’s work truck. Finally, I get to see Clay Road Farms in all its glory. The road kicks up orange dust until it turns into the gravel road that leads deep into the farm. A small parking lot is dotted with cars that I assume belong to Beau’s family and friends.

Summer means the sun stays out a little longer, but it’s low enough in the sky now that the heat is gentler when we carefully climb out of the truck. A large wooden open-air barn looms on the other side of the property, with glowing fairy lights hanging from the trees surrounding it.

“That’s the event building. It used to be a barn, but we converted it about a decade ago,” Beau informs me.

I twist my fingers around his as we make the slow journey towards the barn. His hand squeezes mine in reassurance, either for me or for himself. Beau worries at his bottom lip a few times, then squares his shoulders the closer we get to the barn. I’ve noticed how Beau seems to always be getting ready for a confrontation since I’ve been here. Beau seems to steel himself against every interaction he has with others.

“Beau!” a young woman yells out.

She’s clearly Andy, his sister, as the resemblance is uncanny. Andy is about my height, with long brown hair curling all the way down her back. Sweet sun freckles pepper her face. Brown eyes meet mine as she takes in our joined hands.

“Oh, Beau.” Andy lifts up on her toes to sweetly kiss his cheek, then aims a gap-toothed smile my way. Only beautiful people in Clay Springs, I swear. “I’m so happy you could make it! I know it means a lot to Beau.”

“I’m happy to be here.” Impulsively, I lean forward and kiss her cheek.

Andy flushes bright red, then looks back over her shoulder. “Come meet everyone. You’re the gossip of the town.”

“Shit,” Beau mumbles under his breath as Andy drags me further inside.

An overwhelming amount of people fill the space. But it appears most are family, so Beau stays mostly relaxed at my side. His hand envelops mine again even as Andy shows me around, introducing me to various people.

“Look! Beau’s boyfriend exists!” Andy says, voice teasing to lessen the sting of her words.

A man with black curls, stubbled cheeks, and dark brown eyes stands beside another man with light brown hair and a full beard. Both stare at me for a moment, confusion on their faces, before their gazes ping to Beau.

“Since when?” the brown-haired friend asks, eyes sharp on Beau.

Beau shifts on his feet. “Didn’t want to steal any of Andy’s shine.”

“I’m Joey, this is Lee,” Joey says, the one with the dark curls. He nudges Lee with his elbow.

“Lee.” Lee sends me a hesitant wave.

“Nice to meet you both.”

“We grew up together,” Beau explains quietly, for only me to hear.

“Ah, the best friends. Are you going to grill me?” I shoot a smirk at both of them, satisfied when Lee flushes a vivid crimson.

Joey’s eyes narrow. “Do we need to grill you?”

I shrug lazily. “Not if you trust Beau.”

Lee opens his mouth to argue but Andy silences him with a fierce stare, eyes wide. “Let’s introduce you to my parents. These losers have had enough of your time.”

“Hey!” Joey shouts behind us, voice full of laughter.

“Sorry about that. They’re not always idiots. They’re just really protective of Beau,” Andy whispers against my ear.

“To be expected.”

Andy aims a warm smile at me as she guides me towards a group of elders standing at the other side of the barn. Beau plods behind us, rubbing at his arms, clearly uncomfortable in his clothing.

His father is the spitting image of him, but thirty years older. The man looks tired though, in a sickly sort of way. His mother is slighter, with fair skin and dark red hair. I gently shake his mother’s hand but take his father’s in a firm shake that has him grinning in a soft, pleased sort of way. One thing I know is to always firmly shake another man’s hand. That wisdom was ingrained in me early on.

“Trevor,” I tell them as I step back.

Beau moves his hand to rest on my shoulder, his grip a comfort against my oddly sudden nerves. It’s easy to take a step closer to him, resting against his side where I somehow perfectly fit.

“Nice to meet you, Trevor. You’ve got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” Mrs. Callahan sends me a wink. Mr. Callahan laughs at her and aims a tender, heartbreaking look her way.

“Thanks, ma’am.”

“Call me Cindy.”

“You can call me Mr. Callahan or sir,” his father says, earning him a soft elbow to the ribs. “Just kidding. David will do just fine.”

A warm smile, soft eyes, everything a good fake boyfriend gives. But oddly, I’m not having to fake it as much as I usually do. Beau’s hand is a constant weight against my shoulder, settling the weird anxiety bubbling up inside me. As they make conversation, I let my gaze trail over the barn, taking in the scenery.

Two long tables fill the barn, decorated with baby’s breath and other farmhouse-chic decorations. Andy’s warm laugh pulls my attention towards her and her fiancé. Close to her age, with a military-style crew cut. The way he looks at her radiates love, and I get it. There’s something inherently sweet about the Callahan siblings. Whoever gets to keep Beau for real will be extremely lucky.

“So, what do you do, Trevor?” Cindy asks me as Beau and David finish discussing the farm.

“I’m still in college.”

Cindy’s eyes sharpen. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two, ma’am.”

Her eyes slide over to her son, unease radiating off of her, then back to me. “Did you meet on one of those apps,” she whispers conspiratorially.

I can’t help but let out a loud laugh. If she only knew. “Sort of. But we’ve been dating a few months and you’d be surprised how little age matters when you have the important things in common.”

“And what are the important things?”

I let my gaze go back to Beau, lingering on him for just a moment. I meet her eyes again with a tender, lovestruck smile.

“Love and family.”

Cindy makes heart eyes at me for a moment. She pats my cheek in a loving way only a mother can do.

“Alright, everyone. We’re going to practice the wedding, then we can eat!” a tall blond man shouts from the edge of the barn.

We file outside, and Beau returns that possessive hand to the small of my back. I kiss his cheek as we walk, and he stumbles just a little, making me bite back a laugh. He’s so easy and I love it.

“That’s a serious weapon you’ve got there,” Beau whispers to me.

“What?”

He curls his hand tightly around my hip as we walk. “Those sweet lips.”

“You’re a real smooth talker, Beau.”

“Not usually.”

He helps me get to my seat in the front row. I kiss his cheek again, putting on a bit of a show, and he distractedly presses fingers to his cheek as he walks to the back to join his family. The rehearsal goes on under the large oak trees to the left of the barn.

“Hey,” someone whisper-shouts from behind me.

I rip my gaze from Beau and turn around to find a guy close to my age leaning against the chair next to me. The guy has gorgeous auburn hair past his shoulders, pale skin, and a deep scar that lines the left side of his face. Ouch. He’s sort of androgynous in a way that I know would send a large amount of people clamoring for his attention.

“Yes?” I whisper, not wanting to interrupt the rehearsal.

“You’re Beau’s boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“You’re kind of hot.”

“Thank you?”

“You got any friends you can hook me up with?”

I shoot a curious look back at Beau to find his gaze already firmly on us. I send him a thumbs up and he frowns, deeply. Oh boy.

“Girls or guys?” I ask, whisper hushed so no one around us can hear.

“Guys.”

Ah, okay. “What are you looking for?”

“Anyone will do.”

“Uh,” I say, wracking my brain. “What’s your name?”

“Harper.”

“Okay, Harper, here’s the deal.” Turning around in the seat, I face him fully, leveling him with the sternest gaze I can muster. “There are apps that can get you what you want. I can show you. But a sweet boy like you, you want the real thing. Trust me.”

Harper wrinkles his nose in displeasure. “You don’t know me.”

“Trust me,” I repeat.

Harper huffs and throws himself back in the seat. “Whatever.”

“Who are you related to here?”

“I’m Colby’s dad’s sister’s nephew.”

I literally cannot keep up with that. “Are you related to Beau at all?”

Harper actually looks affronted. “You aren’t from the South, are you?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Okay, well, let me teach you a lesson.” Harper leans forward again, elbows on his knees, and levels me with a shrewd, assessing sort of look. “Everyone here is related in some way or another. Blood doesn’t matter. One time Beau saved me when I fell from a treehouse in the woods and broke my leg. He carried me all the way back to my house, kept my mom from losing her shit. He’s as much a cousin as anyone else.”

Loud claps interrupt us as the rehearsal finishes with Andy and her fiancé giving a kiss that’s presentable for the surrounding family. People mill about chatting, but Beau beelines right for me and Harper, frown still marring his gorgeous face.

“Harper,” Beau says gruffly, a hint of reprimand in his voice.

“Beau.” Harper grins up at Beau. His smile is beautiful and wide. I bet he gets away with just about anything.

“Are you up to no good?”

Harper bats his eyes. This guy is too much even for me. But I can’t help but smile at his antics, which I guess is the point when Harper winks at me.

“I’m up to exactly the right amount of good. You’re looking nice tonight.”

Beau lets out a little “uh-huh,” then wraps his fingers around mine, using them to tug me out of my seat. My stomach goes warm and fuzzy at how easily he handles me.

“Dinnertime, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” Harper mutters sourly under his breath just before pretending to gag.

“Bye, Harper,” Beau says loudly, attempting to end the conversation. Only once standing do I notice the sweet golden retriever wearing a service vest sitting sweetly by Harper’s feet. My eyes flick back to Harper, and our gazes meet hard. A deep frown covers his face when he realizes I’ve noticed the dog, his irritated gaze swinging toward the barn.

Beau guides me away with a warm hand on the small of my back. And I let him. The sun sets behind the trees as the lights dangling from their branches glow brightly. Warmth floods through me, both from the company and the sight of a family full of love for one another. Beau leads me to the middle of the table to sit by his parents. He keeps a loving hand on my thigh under the table all through the meal.