Death by the River (A St. Benedict Novel Book 1) Page 11
Enthralled, Beau licked his lips. “I love it when you talk dirty. If you could teach some of that to your sister, I would appreciate it.”
“You’re disgusting!”
Before he could blink, Leslie slapped him.
The sting brought a slow, smoldering smile to his lips. He stepped toward her, relishing his anticipation of the day when she was helpless, stretched on his cot, and at his mercy.
“So, you like it rough. I’ll remember that.”
He drank in the crimson of her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, sensing he was right about her.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
The magic of the moment slipped away when Derek stepped between them.
The stupid geek poked out his chest as he took a defensive stance in front of his girlfriend.
Beau found the gesture pathetic.
“Is there a problem, Devereaux?”
Derek’s icy glare fueled Beau’s hate. He yearned to rip his head from his skinny stick of a neck and squeeze it until his brains squirted on the blacktop, food for the crows. But the parking lot teemed with students and teachers—all eyes were on them.
Beau had spent too many years tending to his image to destroy it for the sake of one nerd. He needed to stay focused on the end result, and not let anyone interfere in his pursuit of his Leslie.
“I was just asking Leslie to help me with Dawn,” he said in an easygoing manner. “She’s mad at me and I could use some advice.”
The air was so brittle between them, he thought at any second it would snap, and Derek would charge, defending his woman. Seconds ticked by and then Derek’s caustic gaze withered. Beau knew then he would always back down.
A real man fights for what he wants.
From that moment on, Derek Foster would be an inconsequential blip in his pursuit of his perfect woman.
“Are you okay, Leslie?” Derek put his arm around her.
Derek’s pseudo-manly gesture of ownership sickened him. “She’s fine, Foster.”
Leslie gripped Derek’s arm. Beau admired her slender fingers, picturing them squeezed in fists of pain.
“Forget about it. Let’s just get to class.”
Derek got in Beau’s face, squaring off like a contender in the ring. His tough guy act amused Beau.
“You’re never to touch her, you hear me? I’ll kill you if you try it.”
Students gathered around, checking out their confrontation. He needed to turn the tables on Derek. Gossip could kill a rep faster than any action witnessed by one person. Beau had used such methods in the past to shut down challenges to his parties at the river and to dispense with a few old girlfriends, but this time he needed to make sure the crowd took away what he wanted them to remember.
“I think you should have a chat with your girl, Foster. I tried to have a conversation with her about her sister and she flew off the handle.” He smirked at Leslie. “If you ask me, that’s not normal. People are talking about how strange she’s acting. Even the teachers are wondering what’s up. Perhaps you should take her to the nurse to get checked out. Maybe she’s pregnant. You guys practice safe sex, I hope.”
The snickers from those around them let Beau know his arrow had hit the bullseye. By afternoon, the whole school would be abuzz with Leslie Moore’s pregnancy.
“You asshole!” Leslie came at him, but Derek stepped in, boxing her arms and holding her against him.
Beau took a moment, wishing he could have been in Derek’s shoes, holding her as she fought back.
All in good time.
He turned away, confronting the eager faces of those students behind him. He loved how they whispered amongst themselves. With her rep in a free fall, she would eventually need rescuing, and he would be there, her knight in shining armor.
A girl in a thick black sweater and a cap on her head of long brown hair cut in front of him. When her blue eyes zeroed in on him, Beau was thunderstruck by the change in Taylor’s appearance.
Her hunched shoulders, lack of makeup, and layers of thick clothes were a far cry from the flirty girl he had met on the beach. The only thing he recognized was the hate stewing in her eyes. The look she gave him was the same one she’d given him in the cells.
“Taylor, nice to see you again.” He kept his tone condescending. “Love the outfit. I hear bag lady is in this year.”
A few chuckles from those in earshot assured him Taylor’s rep would go down in flames with Leslie’s. Even better.
Taylor never said a word. She stood, glowering, and he didn’t like it one bit. If she kept this up, people might ask questions.
Leslie went up to her and put a friendly hand on her shoulder. “Taylor, you okay?”
He wanted to give Taylor a reminder of their night together, and a warning.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t party so hard on the weekends, Taylor. You never know where it may lead.”
The chuckles from those around him helped dispel his unease at seeing the stupid girl. Deciding not to push his luck, he strutted toward the school entrance. His heart raced and sweat beaded on his upper lip.
“Chill, dude, chill,” he muttered while jogging up the front steps. “She won’t talk. She wouldn’t dare.”
* * *
The din of conversation and rushing students circled Dawn as her jittery hands rummaged through her locker for her chemistry book. The image of Beau coming across the lot to her played over in her head, making her forget what book she needed.
Why do I feel like I’m in the wrong? He’s the jerk.
She’d expected a lot of stares and whispers as she entered the halls of the school that morning, but the gossip hounds were already deboning their next victim. She refocused on chemistry and just as she retrieved her book, she spotted Beau.
His arm against a locker, he leaned into a girl, pinning her between him and a water fountain. Dawn couldn’t make out her face, but from the protective way she hugged her book bag to her chest, she appeared frightened.
Beau, on the other hand, seemed angry. She had seen this before—his fists clenched, stiff posture and pressed lips—right before he yelled at her for doing something stupid.
The girl attempted to dart around Beau.
Dawn gasped. It was Taylor Haskins.
“What the hell?”
Did he have something going on with Taylor? By the looks of their encounter, she thought not. But why was he so upset?
Dawn’s imagination got the better of her as she pictured the two of them making out at the river.
She must be why Beau was so odd the other night. He’s sleeping with her!
She was about to march across the hall and confront Beau when Taylor dashed away. Then Beau coolly adjusted his book bag over his shoulder and strutted down the hall. The cocky grin on his face was the one he got when he felt powerful and in charge like at the river or a football field when he passed a touchdown. He never used such a face with girls; that was a different smile altogether. One Dawn had memorized.
Her anger melted into confusion.
Zoe jumped into her line of sight.
“Hey, you ready for the chemistry test?”
Dawn peeked over her shoulder to see what Beau was doing.
“Hello?” Zoe moved her head, blocking her view. “Are you listening to me?” She glanced behind her and then back to Dawn. “Oh, for the love of God. You’re not mooning over him, are you?”
Dawn shut her locker. “No.”
“After the night you spent at my house, crying your eyes out, I hope not. He showed his true colors. Why can’t you see that?”
Dawn tucked her chemistry book in her bag. “I know he’s a two-timing louse, but I saw …”
“Saw what?” Zoe inched in closer, her voice almost a whisper.
“Nothing.” Dawn put on a smile. “Ready for chemistry?”
“Am I ready to fail another one of Mr. Elbert’s tests? Yep.”
“We have a test?” Dawn’s mouth went dry.
* * *
Leslie tensed as she snuck in the back door of her home from the garage. The hall dark, the house quiet, and the kitchen empty, she held her breath, waiting for her mother to jump out from a shadowy corner and interrogate her about where she went after school. When she finally reached the newel post, she relaxed.
How had her life come to this? Between Beau, her sister, and fighting with her mother about Derek, Leslie had not had a moment’s peace. The stress got to her, people at school had noticed, and even one or two of her teachers had asked about her life. But what could she tell them?
Upstairs, she hurried across the hall carpet to her bedroom, eager to hide from her mother. Lately, she had spent more and more time there.
Yellow light spilled on the cream-colored carpet from Dawn’s open bedroom door. Leslie peered inside, not expecting her sister to be home so soon from cheerleading practice. But she was there, sitting on her pink princess bed, her brow wrinkled, and holding her cell phone.
“Hey.” She leaned against the open door, spying the pink walls decorated with posters of boy bands and puppies. “Where’s Mom?”
Dawn never looked up. “Out.”
Okay. Let me ask another question.
“What are you doing home so early?”
Her attention stayed glued to her phone. “I called off practice and had Zoe bring me home.”
Leslie couldn’t remember a day when her sister had missed practice. Cheerleading had been her life. Well, cheerleading and Beau.
“You still upset about Beau?”
Dawn raised her head and revealed her bloodshot eyes. “What do you think?”
Her first impulse was to rush to her side and hold her. She never wanted to see Dawn upset, but her support would be unwelcome. The great divide Beau had created between them had taught her to keep her distance.
“Are you going to get back together with him?”
Dawn slammed her phone next to her on the bed. “Why do you care?”
For months, her sister had seemed so happy, so in love and swore Beau pampered her, so Leslie had kept quiet about her boyfriend’s abuse. But now the relationship appeared stalled, and Leslie sensed an opportunity. Perhaps Dawn was ready to listen.
“There’s something you should know about Beau.” Leslie came into the room and shut the door. “He says things to me, awful things. He hits on me and promises to bring me to The Abbey one day. It’s been going on for a while. He said some pretty disgusting things today.”
Dawn narrowed her eyes. “Is this a joke? I heard about your argument at school. Everyone did. You’re the one who threatened Beau. How am I supposed to believe anything you say? Is this part of your plan to get us to break up?”
Leslie tossed up her hand, disgusted. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re right.”
Dawn jumped from the bed. “You’re just saying this because you want Beau for yourself. You know Mom can’t stand Derek, but she loves Beau. And if you get him, then she will go easier on you.”
Leslie’s jaw dropped. “Are you out of your mind? Like I could care less what Mom thinks of me or who I date. I don’t need her approval, and neither do you.” She held up her hands. “You know what? I’m done. I don’t care what you do when it comes to Beau Devereaux. Marry him. See if I care!”
“Fine. I will marry him and be the richest girl in town.”
Dawn’s smug expression sent Leslie running for the door.
See if I ever lift a finger to help you again!
* * *
The slam of the bedroom door knocked a picture of Beau off her dresser. She rushed to rescue the silver frame. She replaced the image of Beau, flashing his charming smile and hugging her, on the dresser.
How could Leelee understand what he meant to her? Years of living in her perfect sister’s shadow had been forgotten the first time Beau kissed her. He was special, and he made her special by loving her. With Beau, she was an individual, and not Leslie Moore’s twin. All her life she had been second best. Now she was somebody and her sister couldn’t stand her newfound sense of self.
For Leelee to stoop so low as to attack Beau like that had been unexpected.
Of all the cheap shots.
Back on the bed, Dawn toyed with the idea of calling Beau. She was a better person with him than without him. Perhaps she had acted harshly, probably too much Leslie in her head. Listening to anything she said about Beau was a mistake.
With a shaky hand, she reached for the phone.
Beau answered on the first ring. “I’ve missed you, baby. Why haven’t you called me?”
“I was mad.” She cradled her phone against her cheek, wishing she was in his arms. “When I saw you with Sara, and then the way you acted …”
“Nothing happened.” He sounded so sincere. “You mean the world to me and I was such a fool to let you walk away. Please forgive me, Dawn.”
Her heart melted, but the things Leslie had told her still ate at her. “What did you say to my sister at school today? I thought you were going to stay away from her.”
An unexpected silence arose. It didn’t last long but struck her as odd.
“I asked her to talk to you for me, but you know Leslie,” he said in a matter of fact way. “She hates me. She got weird on me then her boyfriend showed up. I’m sure you heard the rest.”
“I can’t understand what her problem is.” She considered how far apart they had grown in recent months. “It’s like I don’t even know who she is anymore.”
His voice took on a gruff edge. “Forget about your sister. Let’s talk about us.”
She reclined on the bed, happy they were back on solid ground. “Just promise me you didn’t have anything to do with Sara after I left the river?”
“Nothing at all, baby. I was so upset after you left. I actually drank with the boys. Ask them, if you don’t believe me. Don’t you know by now you’re my number one girl?”
Dawn’s doubt could not be so easily smoothed over. “I’m more concerned about being your only girl.”
“Baby, you are! You will always be.”
Dawn’s grip on her phone tightened. “Promise me I’m the only one, Beau.”
“I more than promise, I guarantee. You’re my girl, now and always.”
Leslie’s words faded as Beau’s declaration won her over. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “Not being with you today was hell.”
“When can I see you?” Desperation hung in his voice.
“Tomorrow, after school.” She relished the idea of being alone with him. “We can spend time together then.”
His sigh felt like a caress against her cheek. “Sounds great. It seems like we’ve been apart forever.”
Dawn giggled. “Well, what are you doing tonight? You could come over?”
“Ah, I can’t, baby. I’ve got a bitch of an English Lit paper to tackle and I’ve got to get an A or I’ll blow my GPA. You know how I suck at Shakespeare.”
“I know. Well, don’t stay up too late. I want to see you first thing in the morning at school. We can walk in the front entrance and show everyone we’re back together. I’ll bet the whole school was talking about us today. Probably wondering why the quarterback of the football team and the captain of the cheerleading squad weren’t together.”
“I don’t care what people think. I only care what you think.”
“I’ll be waiting at the entrance for you.” She hesitated, then added, “I love you, Beau.”
“Ah, gotta go, sweetie.” Beau suddenly sounded rushed. “See you tomorrow.”
He hung up.
Dawn stared at her phone, euphoric at first, and then she reconsidered the conversation.
Why am I always the one saying I love you?
She tried to push the thought back, but it was too late.
He does love me. Right?
Chapter Thirteen
Streetlamps nestled between tall
oaks guided Beau to his parents’ gate. A crisp fall breeze whipped his hair as the tall, arched gates of black wrought iron with romantic swirls loomed ahead.
He hated those gates. To the outside world, they marked the entrance to the Devereaux Plantation, but to him they represented prison.
At the gate, he pushed his security code into the keypad. The lights of the brewery in the distance lured him away from his doldrums.
The evening shift would be in full swing, and after them, the minimal night crew would check in. He couldn’t remember a day when the brewery hadn’t crept into his life. He’d worked every shift, in every building and after years of attending benefits, holiday parties for the employees, and sometimes traveling with his father to promote their brand, he hated the brewery almost as much as his home.
After the gates slowly swung open, Beau maneuvered his car along the long cement drive to the front of the prized three-story home. Built when the nation had been on the brink of the Civil War, the house had the customary sweeping galleries and temple-fronted facade attributed to the Greek Revival movement that was popular at the time. With four Corinthian columns, and painted white to resemble marble, the home boasted balconies trimmed in the same fancy wrought iron design as the arched gate, and a porch decorated with rocking chairs. His mother had insisted the chairs gave the house a homey feel.
Homey, my ass.
When he passed the cover of oak trees along the driveway, the light from the french windows and double front doors doused him with warm yellow light. It reached into the darkness around his car and created sinewy shadows in the Spanish moss-covered oaks and flowerbeds of gardenias. Beau used to believe ghosts haunted the trees when he was little because of the strange way the lights would make the moss undulate.
His father had insisted on the light display and made sure it burned until dawn. He even had the lights in the round cupola located atop the red-slated roof turned on. Beau thought the whole thing a waste of electricity and swore he would stop the silly tradition when he inherited the place.