CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bea heard the bootsteps coming up the stairs to her apartment, and her heart began to thump in sync. She’d had two visitors this week already—Mia and Winona—but she’d know these footsteps anywhere. It felt like ages since she’d seen Austin, and she couldn’t deny the tiny little trill in her pulse when the knock came, knowing he was standing just outside her door.

She paused The Walking Dead—hello, Team Daryl—and slipped out of bed, where she’d been propped against the wall with multiple pillows, balancing the laptop on her knees. There was a TV she could probably use if she took a couple of minutes to work out the remote and find some local channels, but there was something decadent and…subversive about lying in bed all day and watching episode after episode after episode of whatever the hell she wanted.

Also, it kept her mind off going back to the lake.

It was ridiculous to be so breathless when she opened the door, considering she hadn’t walked more than a dozen steps to get there, but that was what even the thought of seeing Austin did to her. It was utterly pathetic, like a teenager waiting for her first date, but she couldn’t stop the giddiness bubbling like champagne through her blood.

She’d decided she wouldn’t actively seek him out, not even for friendship—she could ring any of her new gal pals for that—but if he came to her, then what was a girl to do?

Bea took a steadying breath, then opened the door.

“Hey,” he said, standing there all tall and broad and sexy in his police-issue cowboy hat and uniform—who knew beige could be so damn hot—with a huge marmalade cat cradled in his arms.

Her breath rushed out on a rough exhale. “Hey.”

And neither of them said anything more or even moved, they just devoured the sight of each other, an electrical charge holding them both captive in the moment. It felt like she hadn’t seen Austin in a year, and her eyes licked him up like he was a piece of Annie’s pie. Despite her usual, unglamorous attire of sweats and a tee, no bra, his gaze ate her up, too, and her body ran riot beneath his intensity. Her nipples hardened, her belly heated, and a hot kind of throb took up residence between her legs.

Until the cat made an indignant meow, killing the current between them more effectively than the flick of a switch, and the mutual eye-fucking came to an abrupt end.

“I…ah”—he cleared his throat—“brought you something.”

Bea swallowed. The man could have arrived with nothing and would still be everything she wanted. “You’d better come in, then.”

She stepped to the side, maybe not far enough to allow him to pass by her without the slightest of brushes, and if he heard the hitch in her breath when his biceps made light contact with the tips of her breasts, he didn’t acknowledge it. As he walked to the center of the room, she noticed he was wearing a backpack she’d never seen on him before.

He glanced at the trash basket half-full of beer cans but didn’t ask. Which saved Bea from explaining she’d decided to start practicing her three-pointer skills. So far, her proficiency at landing cans from her bed to the basket wasn’t great, but she was improving, and she was at least picking them up afterward and not leaving them scattered on the floor.

He turned to face her. “Beatriss—”

She made a kind of desperate noise at the back of her throat that cut Austin off and made his gaze drop to her mouth. It had been four days since he’d said her name like that, and her ovaries, which had clearly been in deprivation mode, were suddenly hemorrhaging estrogen and controlling her vocal cords.

When she didn’t say anything more, he dragged his eyes off her mouth and continued. “Meet your new cat, Princess.”

Bea forced herself to look at the animal properly for the first time, which was what any normal person would have done after opening the door instead of ogling a guy she’d already decided should be firmly in the friend zone. Although, given the…unfortunate looks of the creature in question, perhaps it hadn’t been a bad thing.

Between the gnarly eye, the snaggletooth, the irregular-fur situation, and the old-man ear hair, the cat wasn’t ever going to win best in show. “Wow. Princess, huh? That’s…”

“Unexpected?”

Bea laughed. She was going to say aspirational. “I think something like Lucifer or Beelzebub would have been more fitting.”

As if she knew they were talking about her in not a very flattering light, Princess meowed and twisted in Austin’s arms, and he put her down on the linoleum. The cat was clearly in her later years, but she shook herself with all the agility of a kitten as soon as all four paws were grounded and then, pointing her nose in the air, swaggered to Bea’s bed like she owned the place, her tail flicking from side to side.

With one graceful leap, she was on the end of the mattress, turning around three times before sitting regally, her head up, her legs out in front like she was a cat goddess guarding the tomb of an Egyptian queen instead of Bea’s rumpled bed. Anybody would think she was on an ancient plinth or an antique Queen Anne four-poster instead of a bed that lived in the cupboard.

Not that Bea had bothered to return the bed to its away position since she’d arrived.

Princess regarded them—her subjects—with her one good eye, assessing her new surroundings and none too taken with them, apparently. The creature had clearly declared herself the boss.

Bea glanced at Austin. “What’s Princess’s story, then?”

“Her elderly owner who had doted on her died recently, and she’s been staying with the neighbor, but she hasn’t taken the adjustment well, and when her most prized possession—a tiara cushion, in case you’re wondering”—he shook his head like he couldn’t believe he was saying any of the words out loud—“fell apart in the wash, never to be seen again, it was the last straw. And she’s been wandering around all cranky and pissed ever since.”

Bea regarded the cat with sudden solidarity. She knew exactly what it was like to have the carpet pulled right out from under you and be mad as hell. She may not be the cute kitty she had envisioned, but Bea felt a connection to Princess. She was ruffled and pissy and had clearly seen better days.

The cat reminded Bea of herself the day she’d met Austin…

“I know you were after some cute little fluff ball, but you wanted a cat and”—he gestured at Princess—“the universe delivered. And I know you’ll make one old man very happy in his grave knowing his Princess is being well taken care of.”

Bea didn’t have to think twice about it. “Yeah,” she said with a nod. “She can stay.”

“Really?”

His smile lit his whole face, and Bea’s attention was dragged from Princess to Austin, oozing vitality and confidence and wearing the hell out of his uniform. She felt like she hadn’t taken the time to fully appreciate that last week. Her gaze drifted to the way his shirt fit a little too snugly across his shoulders and perfectly snug against his abs, and things got very warm inside her sweats.

Absently, she wondered if he worked out and if he had that V thing going on between those narrow hips. Wasn’t it called an Adonis belt? Or something? When she realized she was staring, Bea dragged her head out from behind Austin’s belt, Adonis or otherwise.

“Of course,” she said. “She’s got spunk.”

She almost said young and perky is overrated, but Austin was here in her apartment in his uniform, rapidly disproving that theory.

“Awesome.” He shrugged his backpack off and lowered it to the floor. “I have supplies in here for you. Food and some kitty litter. Mrs. Jennings assured me she was fully house trained.” He unzipped the bag and started pulling things out. “Where should I set up the litter box?”

Even talking about cat toileting didn’t quell the lick of heat keeping Bea’s hormones on a low boil. “Umm…the bathroom, I guess.”

Nodding, Austin grabbed what he needed, tossed his hat on the coffee table, rounded the bed, and disappeared into the bathroom. Bea was left in the middle of the room, staring after him. Princess also deigned to look over her shoulder to see where Austin had gone. Bea was pretty sure the cat’s gaze also lingered on what was an incredible ass.

Yeah…they were going to get along just fine.

Some noises came from the bathroom, then suddenly Austin reappeared. “C’mon, Princess,” he said, picking the cat up off the bed. “You need to see this.”

Aware suddenly she was still standing in the same spot as when Austin had disappeared with a less-than-impressed Princess, Bea forced herself into action.

Get a grip, Beatrice.

It was four steps to the kitchen bench and the half-full bottle of wine from last night. It was past five o’clock, right? She reached for the glass she’d used last night and poured a generous splash, then took a hearty sip. The peppery flavors of the merlot flowed across her tongue, and Bea shut her eyes, relishing the taste as the low murmur of Austin’s voice talking to Princess did funny things to her pulse.

“I think she’s got it now,” he announced.

Bea turned, resting her ass against the counter as Austin placed Princess back on the end of the bed. He petted the cat’s head for a moment or two, crooning, “Good girl,” to her, like dealing with creatures was second nature to him. Princess certainly seemed to enjoy the attention, tilting her head a little to give Austin better access.

He chuckled and petted her a bit more, and hell if it didn’t take Austin’s masculinity up about a hundred more notches, standing there in his uniform, showing some love to a one-eyed marmalade cat.

He dished out one last stroke, then dropped his hand and headed in her direction. Bea tried really hard not to check out the long, confident length of his stride and the way his dark pants pulled across his quads, but she failed miserably. By the time he’d stopped beside her at the sink, her pulse was tripping madly.

She swallowed as he flicked on the faucet. “Would you like a drink?” she asked as he washed up, using the pump soap on the windowsill. “There’s wine.” She held up her glass, like he needed an explanation as to what wine was, but hell if she could think straight with him so damn near. “Or beer in the fridge,” she added.

Or maybe just take off your clothes to confirm the presence of an Adonis belt? Please and thank you.

Eep! Heat flooded Bea’s face. She was going to hell. This was what happened when a person went too long without sexual release.

Shockingly graphic and utterly scandalous thoughts about inappropriate men.

He turned his head to look at her and grinned. If he noticed her blush, he didn’t say. “Beer would be great.” He flicked off the faucet and, when he couldn’t find a hand towel, ripped a couple of sheets off the nearby kitchen roll and dried his hands. “I’ll get it.”

Bea took a breath, and relief, cool as a mountain stream, flooded her veins as he walked three paces away to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Then he cracked the can open and turned, leaning against the fridge door as it snicked shut behind him.

He took a couple of deep swallows. “Ah.” He let out a long sigh, then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, which was hella distracting. “That’s good.”

“Crappy day?”

“Long day,” he corrected as their eyes met. “Better now for seeing you.”

Bea’s breath caught in her throat. Officer Silver Tongue had a way with words. He smiled then but broke their gaze quickly, like he was purposefully taking a step back from the connection she knew he felt, too. Had he decided to keep things in the friend zone as well?

And was she relieved or…disappointed?

He wandered over to the messy coffee table groaning as per usual in assorted stuff, now including his hat as he put it down next to the sketch pad still open from the other day. Bea had been ignoring it, but Austin didn’t. He picked it up, studying the charcoal drawing.

“This is the lake,” he murmured. “Did you do this?”

Bea swallowed, an itch growing under her skin as she suppressed the urge to whip the pad out of his hands and tear that page from the book. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know you were an artist?”

“Oh, no.” She gave a dismissive shake of her head, stalking over to him, then taking the pad from his hand. After flipping it shut, she tossed it back on the table. “I’m not. It’s just some doodling.”

He quirked one disbelieving eyebrow. “Have you always doodled?”

“I dabbled a bit…as a kid. Not for a long time.”

“Well, it’s good,” he said, putting his beer down and picking the pad up again, turning to the sketch.

Her belly looped into one giant knot. “It’s okay.”

“It’s way more than okay,” he insisted. “It’s remarkable.”

Bea blushed at the compliment, somehow both flattered and discomfited. His compliment was like rain on parched earth, but the urge to go out to the lake again had ridden her hard these past couple of days, and his praise only amplified her conflict. “Says the prominent art critic,” she said derisively but keeping it light.

He grinned. “Hey, I know what I like.” Then he waggled his brows at her.

“Well…anyway.” Bea bugged her eyes at him playfully as she once again took the pad from him, tossing it farther away on the couch this time.

“How do you feel about maybe coming out to the ranch and sketching the house? Mom’s been talking about getting someone to do it for years now, and it’s her birthday soon. I could get it framed, and it’d be the perfect present. I’ll pay you whatever the going rate is.”

Bea blinked. Pay her the going rate? Crap. This was getting out of hand. “No. I’m not…” She shook her head, her chest tightening. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? You’re looking for something different to do, right?”

Well, yes…but. He was looking at her like one and one made two, except it didn’t—not in this situation.

“And you’re good at it,” he continued.

Just like that? She was free, she was good at it, so…why not? God, she suddenly felt ancient in the face of all his fresh-faced optimism.

“Did you enjoy it? Out at the lake.”

The pressure to say no, to deny the buzz that had consumed her at the lake, drummed in her brain and pushed against her vocal cords, but that wasn’t what came out. “Yes.”

Her decision to pick up the pad had been intense, and afterward she’d been conflicted, but while she was sketching? She’d freaking loved it. And she couldn’t deny it. Didn’t want to, either, even if it was just to this guy who looked at her through giant rose-colored glasses.

“Well.” He smiled. “Do you need another reason?”

Oh God. She crossed to the sink, then leaned against it as she took a sip of wine, regarding him over the rim of the glass. If only it were that simple. Except, looking at him in this moment, it did seem simple. Or at least possible, anyway. Anything seemed possible with Austin. Including crossing that line she told herself she wouldn’t cross.

Sure, he was younger, but…sleeping with him wasn’t running away with him, was it? More than that, she was at least free to sleep with him—she wasn’t married and she didn’t have a kid or family responsibilities. And, as Austin had said, she was looking for something different to do.

Her situation was not the same as her mother’s situation had been, not at all. So why keep conflating it in her mind?

Bea’s gaze drifted to the way he held his body, the way he stood with his feet evenly spaced apart, the way his clothes fit, both hiding and sculpting the musculature beneath. The way his bulky utility belt sat low on his hips, emphasizing their narrowness and drawing attention to the flatness of his belly above…reigniting the question of that V below.

Frankly, it was a much better way to occupy her thoughts than anything to do with art.

“Beatriss?”

She blinked at the silkiness of his voice, dragging her eyes to meet his, gratified to find them glowing with the kind of heat that quickened in her veins. It was like being plunged into a thermal pool—heat and steam and the warm caress of water on her bare, aroused flesh. Flowing over her aching nipples, soothing and taunting between her legs. Also running down his chest and his abs and funneling lower to his groin, lapping that V she couldn’t stop fixating on.

“What on earth are you thinking?” he asked, his voice dark and low, vibrating between them.

It was plain, from his husky rumble, he knew her thoughts were carnal in nature, but saying them out loud was another thing entirely. “I…” She swallowed, caught between throwing out an easy lie and the temptation of the truth.

“Tell me.”

She cringed. “It’s…embarrassing.”

A small smile played on his mouth as he hooked both his thumbs in his belt. “C’mon, Beatriss. Deep breath. I thought you’d turned over a new leaf and were going to say whatever crossed your mind.”

Maybe it was the challenge he laid down—a clarion call to the new Beatrice. Maybe it was the wine, or bringing Princess to her, or the way he’d admired her sketch and simply said why not about her art when she’d told herself she can’t for as long as she could remember. Maybe it was those thumbs hooked low in exactly the spot she couldn’t stop thinking about. But the thoughts in her head suddenly became words and the pressure to utter them became too much.

“I was wondering if you had that V thing going on between your hips, you know…” She dropped her gaze to the area of his anatomy under discussion. “With the muscles there.”

Austin didn’t say a word as the smile hovering on his mouth faded. He didn’t do anything for a beat or two, either, just drew in a couple of deep, ragged breaths.

Then reached for his belt buckle.