I was speechless.

Beau was...oh my God, I couldn't even put it into words. Not even I knew how to get myself off as quickly as he'd just managed. And he seemed to know it, too. His dark eyes smiled at me as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them off.

That mouth...I hadn't expected such a dirty, talented mouth.

"Three fingers it is," he whispered before taking a step back to restart the elevator. "I'll remember that for the future."

My gut clenched. And not in a good way.

The future.

I should probably tell him, shouldn't I? I should tell him now that the only future we had was the very near one. Tonight. We had tonight. And that was it.

I should tell him, but this moment felt perfect. It pulsed between us. Beau threw his hands into his pants pockets, looking me up and down in a way that clearly said he wasn't done with me yet. And I wasn't done with him, either. This moment was perfect, and I didn't want it to end yet.

Swallowing, I pushed my dress back down over my hips.

"I think it's your turn to tell me what you like," I said, stepping toward him with a sway of my hips that likely made me appear more confident than I felt.

Beau accepted me into his arms with an ease that felt too good to be true.

"Not yet, sweetheart. I'm not done taking care of you." He grinned wickedly. "Let's get you to that room, huh?"

___

"This is not necessary, Collins."

Ignoring him, I all but shoved Beau into a bathroom that was just as rustic as the rest of the mansion. The timber-slatted walls, stone backsplash, and fluffy towels made it feel cozy even though it was probably the most luxurious bathroom I had ever been in. After directing Beau to sit on the toilet seat, I looked down at him.

"It is necessary. It would really put a damper on a lot of things if you were killed off from an infection that could have easily been cleaned out."

His lips twitched. "A damper, huh?"

I'd brought in my Prosecco for emotional support and took a gulp of it before placing the glass on the counter. "Yeah, it would definitely ruin Christmas."

Beau waved that thought away and sipped from his own drink. "I'm pretty sure I would make it through Christmas. I don't think infections set in that quickly, Collins."

I sighed, wishing I hadn't even teased about it. The world wasn't allowed to exist without Beau Martin in it. It was something that I had quickly realized when he'd left that first weekend to come up here, and I had been stuck in the apartment by myself. It wasn't the first time I'd been alone since moving to Oakland, but it had been the first time it happened after Beau stopped ignoring me. After he'd declared we were friends. After it started to feel like we were friends.

His absence had been so loud. I'd missed having him around, and that was the main reason I was here. So I didn't have to be alone there.

"Okay, fine," I relented. "Christmas would go on. But what am I supposed to do the next time I get too drunk at a party?"

I bit down on my tongue as soon as I said it. Maybe just don't get too drunk at parties, Collins. Maybe be a little more responsible for yourself, huh?

Beau didn't think that was as funny. The playful glittering of his eyes hardened a bit. "Ask your new roommate—whoever takes my place."

I shook my head. "I don't want a new roommate. This one—" I pointed to him. "—always replacesmy coffee creamer when I'm running low and then pretends it wasn't him."

He didn't deny it. "Oh, so that's why you want to keep me around. Coffee creamer, huh?"

"Yeah." I bit down on a smile. "Coffee creamer."

Without saying a word, I reached down and grabbed the hem of Beau's shirt. My eyes connected with his, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

No, Beau. It has nothing to do with the coffee creamer.

When I raised my brow, he nodded slowly, and I stripped his shirt over his head.

Weird things always happened when our clothes came off, but I didn't know how else to clean out his cuts, which were nasty and deep. I couldn't believe he had been acting like nothing had happened when his entire side was turning a kaleidoscope of colors.

With Beau shirtless, I turned away to start rummaging through the cabinets, searching for supplies.

He cleared his throat, and his relaxed teasing tone slipped out. "I'm starting to think that you just like finding situations for me to take my shirt off."

Thank God my face was under the sink, completely hidden. Because it definitely felt hot. Actually, my entire body had a clammy heat to it that I quickly attributed to the bubbly alcohol. And this small enclosed space. And the heat blasting up through the vent along the wall.

Fine. And Beau.

Shirtless Beau.

Goddamnit, I liked shirtless Beau.

"Oh, shut up. You're the one who ran into a tree," I said, finding my voice.

After finding a first aid kit, I stood in front of him and tried to take a secret, deep breath. But Beau was watching me like I was the most interesting, fascinating thing he'd ever seen, and it wasn't making any of this easier. Evading his intense gaze, I knelt down in front of him, wanting to be eye-level with his injuries. But it also left me eye-level with other things, too.

And it wasn't the first time I'd been on my knees in front of Beau Martin.

Based on the look on his face when I finally got the courage to look at it...he remembered.

Ignoring the pounding beneath my skin, I tore open an alcohol pad and pressed it down on one of the angry red marks on his side. Beau hissed and swore beneath his breath, his expression one of twisted pain, and I lessened the pressure.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"Like you said," he muttered bitterly, "I'm the one who ran into a tree. Not your fault."

I would have laughed, but his humor was thinly laced, and it didn't seem like the time. When I was satisfied the first cut was clean, I moved to another and glanced up to make sure he was ready for the sting. But when our gazes collided, Beau shook his head. Huh. I froze, waiting to see what was wrong. And when he spoke again, his voice was raspy.

"You don't have to do this, you know. I can take care of it."

Oh, no, he didn't. Beau didn't get to brush off other people caring for him when that was all he ever did. Absolutely not. I would do this for him whether he liked it or not. He'd held my hair back when I puked my guts out, and the least I could do was make sure he didn't die from a goddamn infection.

"I don't mind," I said, speaking a lot softer than the voices in my head were. "You're one of my people, Beau. And I take care of my people."

His expression softened momentarily before tensing up again when I started to clean the cut.

"Tell me about this powerhouse mom of yours," I said, wanting to distract him. "The one behind this gorgeous house."

A faint smile appeared on Beau's lips, the smile of a guy who loved his mom. It was endearing, and I wasn't surprised in the least.

"Mom founded a real estate investment corporation that has grown massively over the years. That's why our family has so many properties." He waved a hand lazily, pointing to the luxury space around us.

"That's impressive."

"Yeah, it was her vision. My dad worked in car sales when we were really young, but he quit to work with her when she started to expand." He paused, reflecting. "They've known each other since they were really young. Lived in the same apartment building growing up. My grandparents met each other when my mom's parents moved to the Bay Area from Tibet in the 50s. We have these black and white pictures of them as kids, pretty cute."

"You have siblings?" I didn't miss how Beau had said we. For some reason, it surprised me that he hadn't mentioned that before.

"Yeah, I... have a brother."

I frowned at his slight hesitation.

"And your family?" he asked before I could say anything else.

I sucked in, knowing that I should have expected the reciprocated question. And it was okay; I didn't mind answering it. But if I had been given a choice, I would have let him continue talking.

"Well, let's see. My dad was in the military."

"Oh? What branch?"

"The Marines. He..." I wet my lips, and Beau's eyes flicked around my face with curiosity. "He sustained a traumatic brain injury from a blast during his tour, and it eventually ended up causing his passing when I was a freshman in high school."

His face fell in such a sincere way that I felt my lip tremble. "I'm so sorry, Collins," he muttered softly.

I shook my head. "It's okay. I—I've had a lot of time to process it. After high school, my mom and brother moved out to the east coast. Mom got an offer to work for her dream production company, and I think it was a needed fresh start for Cameron. He's a senior now."

"In college?"

"Yeah. I chose to stay, though." It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. If I could have escaped the Bailey family and gone with my mom and brother, I would have. But that was for a different life. "I had Directions. You know, where I met Bren."

Beau looked away. "Yeah, I know."

"And I started to make connections to the arts community here, too."

"Makes sense."

A weighty silence fell between us as I worked to clean Beau's wounds and place bandages over them. He wasn't quite as tense as he was before, which was good. But I was. Because the more I stared at his side, the more I kept picturing him slamming into a tree on the side of a snowy mountain. I couldn't help but lean in closer, inspecting his torso. The bruises colored over the thick wavy lines of his tattoo, and I lifted a finger to trace them, wondering how he decided on that design.

"Collins?" he choked.

I instantly pulled back. "Does that hurt?"

"No. No, it doesn't...hurt." He readjusted himself on the seat, his jaw twitching. "What are you doing, though?"

I went back to pressing his skin gently, probing it. "Are you sure you're okay? What if you broke something? What if you have internal bleeding? What if—"

He grabbed my hand, enveloping them in his. "Sh, it's fine. I'm fine. I think I would know if I broke something. It's just bruised."

His reassurance was so warm and soft. I had to resist the urge to crawl into his lap and stay there.

But Beau had other plans. Pulling me up, he led me back toward the bathroom door. And oddly enough, that disappointed me. As much as I'd grown to love this group of people—Bren, Madie, Nessa, and Grayson—there was a part of me that liked the idea of staying in this safe little haven with Beau. It was snug and secure here in the bathroom.

"They're probably wondering—"

Beau stopped talking as soon as he cracked the door open. He turned around with a recognizable sparkle in his eye, easing the door shut again.

"Grayson and Nessa are busy," he said.

"Busy?"

"On the piano."

"Oh, I've always wanted to hear Grayson play," I said. "I heard he's wonderful."

"Yeah." Beau laughed softly. "I think Nessa would agree with you about how wonderful Grayson is right now."

Oh.

Took me a second, but I got there.

Laughing, we stumbled back into the bathroom, a tangle of feet tripping over each other as Beau tried to redirect me to a door on the other side of the space. Tried being the operative word because I didn't make it two steps before he knocked both of our forgotten drinks off the counter, soaking my jeans and my sweater with a mix of Prosecco and beer.

We both stilled, and Beau's face was stuck in this dread-filled grimace that made me throw my head back and laugh louder.

"Shit," he eventually hissed. "I'm so fucking sorry."

"It's fine," I said between gasping breaths. His expression had been worth it, to be honest. "I'll just go change."

Beau shook his head, looking defeated. "Trust me, you can't leave right now. Not unless you want a show. Come on."

Taking me by the hand, he led me to the other side of the bathroom, where there was a pocket door that I hadn't noticed before. Pushing it open, he revealed a huge bedroom, one that was every bit as rustic and cozy as the rest of the home.

"Let me get you some clothes."

My eyes swept over the stack of suitcases at the end of the bed, and I cocked my head to the side.

"Is this your room?"

He nodded before kneeling on the floor to dig through his luggage. "It usually is when we stay here." Standing again, he tossed me a flannel shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "These should keep you warm, at least."

After thanking him, I ducked back into the bathroom to peel off my wet things, cringing when I realized that even though some of my clothes weren't wet, they all reeked of beer. Every last layer reeked of beer, and I threw it all in a pile in the corner.

Beau's clothes smelled nice, though. Like him. All woody and man-like. I had to roll the sweatpants a few times to get them to fit, and while the flannel was definitely cozy, it also left me feeling just a bit exposed. I crossed my arms over my chest when I walked back into Beau's room and found him opening the curtains on the window. He was wearing a shirt again, and I found it hard to decide how I felt about that.

"I always liked how there was a good view of the slopes in this room," he said when he heard me come in.

Snow drifted down outside, mesmerizing me for a second before I realized that Beau was staring, his eyes flicking over me. I saw his lips move, but I didn't hear a thing. The room was silent, but loud. The moment quickly passed, though, and then Beau was clearing his voice and holding his hand out.

"Come here."

Part of my brain that knew this was too much. This whole weekend was going to be too much. I didn't belong in multi-million dollar homes with handsome boys who held their hands out, looking at me like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I didn't belong here.

But I doubted that anything could have kept me from walking over to Beau at that minute. When I got within reach of him, he pulled me in closer, moving my body firmly in front of his.

"You gotta stand right here to see it."

I shifted on my feet, trying to find the spot he wanted. But he wasn't satisfied. His hands gripped my hips, positioning me exactly where he wanted.

"There," he murmured in my ear. "That's it."

Something rattled around in my chest loudly, and I wondered if he'd be able to hear it. Yeah, this weekend was definitely going to be too much for my heart to bear.

Especially when he pointed out what he was looking at.

✨

Sorry- I can't NOT write a story that has a scene where she puts on his clothes and he freaks out a tiny bit.

Thanks for reading!

xoxo Amelie