Maybe it was the run-in at the bar. Maybe it’s the fact that every time I close my eyes, I see Beau’s bulging bicep held out across me, and the ripple of his back muscles through the strain of his T-shirt. I feel the heat and strength of his body, thrown up like a guard rail across mine.
Or maybe it’s the loud music blaring all the way from the main house.
Which means my brothers have brought their party home.
I stay away from the main house at the best of times, especially since my dad skipped bail and left town. Now my brothers rule the roost. My dad is a piece of shit, but at least he scared them enough to stay a little in line.
Without him? It’s like trailer park mayhem over there.
So I stay far away, living in a seventeen-foot Boler trailer I bought off the side of the road. It’s more or less an old shoe box, but I’ve put some work into it. What I haven’t put in is any type of cooling system. Which means it’s a sauna right now, even though it’s past two in the morning.
The door clangs shut behind me as I step out of the trailer into the hot, muggy night. The light breeze off the river caresses my skin and I sigh, reveling in the feel. Two suspended iron steps bow under my weight as I make my way down them. My flip-flops make that obnoxious slapping noise as I trudge across the grass toward the river.
The river that’s just beyond the barbwire fence. On Eaton land.
Not that the fence has ever stopped me. In the dead of night, it’s always peaceful and private.
I press down on the top wire, avoiding the barbs, and swing a leg over, clearing the line that separates my family land from Beau’s. I know I’m technically trespassing, but I also know that every single Eaton has been nothing but nice to me, even when they’ve had no reason to be.
Within a few moments, I’m at the top of the embankment, where I kick my shoes off and gingerly head down the steep path sideways. It’s easier barefoot. I learned the hard way that flip-flops just twist and turn and trip me up, and the bite of the occasional pebble on the bottoms of my feet doesn’t bother me all that much.
I hobble across the wobbly river rocks, shed my clothes, and slip into the darkened water, desperate to cool down. Is it the smartest thing that I do? Probably not. But it thrills me and soothes me all at once. Knowing I’m on a different piece of land than my brothers brings me an odd sort of peace.
“Hooo.” The mountain water is cold enough to suck the air right out of my lungs, and I blow out a breath as my feet scrape across the rocky bottom of the riverbed, carrying me further into the gentle flow.
The chilly water whips around every curve of my body. In the spring, the current can become much stronger, but by this point in the summer, it meanders lazily through the town before joining up with the Elbow River.
My arms cut through the water, the smell of silt and pine wafting up around me. That fresh, wet rock scent almost overpowers it all.
Immediately, my body temperature drops, and the internal alarm that can make you panicky when you’re overheated stops beeping at me.
After a busy night, it doesn’t matter if I’m checked out and lying in my quiet trailer. I dream about bartending. Like I’m stuck on some sort of fucking infinite loop.
Bar, drink, till.
Bar, drink, till.
Bar, drink, till.
My body knows the motions and the feelings and the pattern so damn well that I can’t escape it.
The river is my reset.
My palm wraps around an offshoot attached to the large log that lies halfway across the river. I grip it and let my body flow back with the icy water.
When I hear the crunching of shoes on pebbles coming from the opposite side of the river, I freeze. I’m fairly hidden, but my heart thunders in my chest at the prospect of being caught. Alone, and in the dark.
I’ve never encountered a single person down here, so, of course, it happens on a night when I’m already jumpy thanks to my shitty brothers.
The world is silent for a few beats as I try to hold my breath. It’s just the soft rush of cool water and the echo of crickets rubbing their legs together.
“Who the fuck is in my river?”
Relief courses through me, and I smile.
Sure, the raspy tone is pissed off, all gravel and steel.
But it’s the voice I’ve come to associate with safety.
And if I had to get caught trespassing naked in a river, I’m glad Beau Eaton is the one to catch me.
6
Beau
Harvey: Checking in on you. You missed another family dinner. Just wanna know you’re okay.
Cade: What Dad is trying to say is that he wants you to stop being a total dickhead and come around now and then.
Willa: What Cade is trying to say is that he misses you and worries about you.
Rhett: What Willa is trying to say is that she thinks you’re the sexiest Eaton brother and misses seeing you around because she’s stuck living with an ogre.
Cade: Get fucked, Rhett.
Summer: Cade, what Rhett is trying to say is that you’d be sexier with long hair.
Winter: Wrong.
Beau: Oh good, the family chat. Also, I agree with Winter.
Summer: We’re just worried about you, Beau. We like having you around.
Beau: Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll make the next one.
The giggle that filters back catches me off guard.
“First of all, it’s not your river.”
I expected it to be one of those Jansen assholes. But no. It’s their little sister with the wide eyes that stare at me from the other side of the bar. The one who doesn’t take my shit but tolerates my presence. Even when it’s stormy.
One reason I can’t sleep tonight.
One of many.
“Bailey?”
Her eyes widen as she takes in my bare chest. “How did you know I was here?”
Inky black hair shines under the bright moon as she pushes away from the log she was hiding behind. The water conceals her body, but above that line, my eyes hitch on her shoulders. The way the silvery light hits them—and the fact there are no straps in sight.
I scoff and blink away, not wanting to leer. “I’ve been a tier one operator for years. If I couldn’t pick out a civilian hiding in a river, I’d be dead already.”
She bobs in the water, and I drift closer to the edge. The creek must be under twenty feet across here and she’s pretty much smack dab in the middle.
I jut my chin out beyond her and shove my hands in the front pocket of my sweats. “There’s a pile of clothes on the shore.” Her head whips around to confirm, wet tendrils splaying over her slender shoulders. “Your body is disrupting the flow of water.” She glances down at herself now, at the way it folds around her in a different pattern than every other stream that passes. “And I could hear you breathing.”
Her head tilts to the side, all sass. “You could not hear me breathing.” Disbelief laces her words.
I like this sassy side of her. Before, when I’d come into the bar with my brothers, she always seemed so beaten down, so startled all the time. She made me want to save her. I just didn’t know how.
She’s stronger than I remember her, but I wonder if it’s all for show. I wonder if we’re the same that way.
But I just shrug. “Maybe I could feel you breathing. I don’t know how else to explain it. I could just sense it. You hone that sixth sense when your life is on the line.”
She stares at me, skin shimmering, reflecting the moonlight. I watch droplets of water roll down the front of her chest to the valley between her breasts.
She seems oblivious to how tempting she looks—to the way she affects me.
“Being able to twist a guy’s hand right off his body comes in handy too, I bet.”
I shift my gaze from the exposed top swells of her breasts to the river. “If you’re looking for an apology for that, you won’t get one.”
“I’m not.”
That has me turning my gaze back to her, trying to figure her out. “How long have you been coming here?”
A soft hum vibrates from her as she taps a finger against her pouty lips. “Trespassing to swim in your river? Years now, I guess.”
“You know my house is just beyond that embankment?”
“Huh. No. I didn’t.” I can tell she’s lying. “My trailer is just beyond that copse of trees.”