CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Princess accompanied her as Bea opened the door, her warm body pressed against Bea’s ankle. Austin was leaning on the wall, one hand on his hip, grinning that grin she loved so much, looking super official in his uniform, which was, sadly for her, superhot. She’d never salivated just at the sight of a man before now.

He gave her the lazy once-over as well. “They’re not your Thursday panties.”

Bea smiled despite a heavy ache in her chest. “I had to go out.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh, sounding thwarted but resigned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Then he touched the brim of his hat in a formal gesture of hello and said, “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m here to take your statement.”

She wanted to grab him by the lapels of his shirt and kiss him until he was groaning and his hands were siding into her sweats.

“I also”—he pushed off the wall and pulled a brown paper packet out from behind his back, presenting it the way another man might have presented a fancy diamond ring—“bought you some pie. Because pie.”

A sudden waft of simple sugars hit Bea’s system, and she realized she’d been too damn angry to even eat today. She’d walked to the library and back and hadn’t even thought to stop at Annie’s.

He waved the package in front of her face. “Lemon meringue made with fresh lemons from Annie’s very own tree.”

Bea’s stomach growled, and she salivated some more. If she wasn’t careful, she’d start to drool. “Seeing as how you bought pie, you can come in.”

She stood aside, and Austin took the two steps into her apartment, bending over to give Princess some love before entering fully. Bea shut the door, then headed for the sink, moving around the half-full trash basket still in the middle of the floor. She needed to put as much space between them as possible and get as far away from the bed as possible, because all she could think about now was how Austin’s abs would taste smeared in meringue, which was not helpful.

Why did her brain choose now to combine two of her favorite things?

Bea kept her back to him, looking down at the street as she had earlier today when she’d lifted her shirt. She was hyperaware he was approaching, in the same way she’d been aware of him from the first moment they’d met. He slid in behind her, placing the pie on the cluttered countertop before bracketing her hips with a hand planted on either side of the sink, his front pressing into her back.

Dipping his head, he nuzzled behind her ear and down the side of her neck, the brim of his hat brushing her skin. Every muscle in her body wanted to melt against him, but she held herself erect. “I missed you today,” he murmured.

Bea shut her eyes as his husky admission grabbed a hold around her heart. She’d missed him, too, and she wanted nothing more than to relax in his arms. But they needed to talk. So she locked her knees, gripped the edge of the sink harder.

Lifting his face from her neck, he slid his chin on top of her head and didn’t say anything for long moments. They both just stood there and stared out the window. Eventually, though, he initiated the conversation she was too chicken to start.

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

She opened her eyes and gave a half laugh at his typical Austin approach. Casual but direct. Still, his insight was unexpected, and Bea practically folded in on herself in relief. Other men she’d had the it’s-not-working-out talk with in the past had always seemed oblivious to the undercurrent.

“A little.” Okay…maybe a lot.

“All right.” He kissed the top of her head and withdrew, and Bea missed him instantly as he stepped away. “You want to talk about it?”

Steeling herself for what was to come, Bea turned. Austin had removed his hat and thrown it on top of her messy coffee table and was ruffling his hair, and, if possible, Bea’s knees went a little weaker. Thank God she had the bench to lean into.

“You want to go first?” he asked.

He didn’t seem angry or even worried, necessarily, nor did he appear to be humoring her. His body was loose and relaxed, his gaze neutral. His body language was open and inviting. Clearly, he was up for the conversation and wanted to tackle it head-on, which fit Austin’s pragmatic personality.

Who knew pragmatism could be so damn sexy?

“I think this”—Bea gestured her index finger back and forth between them—“was a mistake.”

One eyebrow winged up. “Really?”

The man had the most expressive damn eyebrows. Just that one eyebrow seemed to say, Pretty sure you weren’t thinking anything of the sort when I was making you see Jesus this morning. Okay, maybe it wasn’t saying that, exactly, and it was just her guilt talking, but the inflection in his voice held a faint note of reproach. And maybe “mistake” was the wrong word. But it had definitely been ill-advised. “I mean…we should have stayed friends and not crossed this line.”

“Okay.” He nodded calmly. So damn calm when Bea’s heart was beating like a bongo drum. “Why?”

“Because…” Looking at him now, she couldn’t think of one damn reason why she should deny herself the hotness and niceness and fun—the man was the whole damn package—that was Austin Cooper.

Think, Beatrice, think!

“I don’t usually do this. Just rush in with a guy. Particularly a random guy I don’t really know. Which probably makes me sound like some old-fashioned prude, but it’s not that. I’ve just been busy, focused on my work and my career and I didn’t need the distraction. So being with someone I already knew, someone in advertising was just…efficient. And there were commonalities that we could bond over and…”

Bea sighed as her eyes ranged all over the deliciousness that was Austin before returning attention to his ruggedly handsome face.

“We don’t have anything in common.” Apart from a healthy dose of lust. But that was hardly a foundation for anything. “We’ve known each other for a week and there’s been a lot of changes in my life these past couple of months, and that’s probably not the best time for entanglements. You’re new to me; everything here is new to me. This life I’m living is new to me, and I don’t know where it’s going, but I do know I want to start out right.”

“I see.” He nodded calmly, as if he was a psychologist and she was the patient. “And what brought all this on? You’ve gone from titty flashing to I want to start out right.”

God…even in polite conversation, Austin infused titty with just the right kind of dirty. It seemed like such a long time ago now, and Bea marveled at her earlier daring. “Something happened at my old work today that kinda sucked me back into that world again. Also…separate to that and quite randomly, I got offered a job.”

“Ah.” Austin’s voice suddenly went full gravel, and there was a definite tightening of his jaw. “And you…want to take the job?”

“What?” Bea frowned and shook her head vehemently. “No. Absolutely not. But it got me thinking about the reasons I came here and how I might be screwing it all up by…using you as some kind of distraction. Some kind of…treat.”

A big, lazy grin spread over Austin’s face. “I do remember telling you I was perfectly fine with that.”

Why? Why was he grinning? Shouldn’t he be more concerned about the outcome of all this? When Bea was twenty-five, she’d carefully thought through every decision she’d ever made, examining it from every angle. A habit she’d fallen into for the rest of her life.

Until recently, apparently.

“I’m trying to be serious here.” Bea was aware her eyebrows were almost crossing over each other, her brow was that furrowed. “About whatever this is. I mean…what are we? What are we even doing here, Austin?”

He sighed loudly, full of patience, a sigh she imagined probably got a considerable workout in his job. Cops had to have superhuman reserves of patience.

“Beatriss…honey.” He took two steps in her direction and stopped. “Why do we have to define what we’re doing? Why do we have to be anything?” He shrugged. “Why not just be this? You and me hanging out. Watching TV, laughing, going to Jack’s and the lake. Eating popcorn and drinking beer in bed. Having sex. Or not…” He held up his hands in a surrender motion before dropping them again. “If that’s what you really want. But just be this, letting things unfold until we decide to either stop doing it or actually give it a name.”

It sounded so easy. So simple. And so damn tempting when he said it. None of the angst that she’d attached to it. Just two people living in the moment.

“So just…go with the flow?”

“Uh-huh.” He closed the distance between them, sliding his hand into hers and giving it a squeeze. Up close, his presence was almost overwhelming. So big and broad. Solid and dependable. “You came here wanting to break free from the person you were in LA. And you’ve been doing that, and I’ve been happy to help. I’m happy to keep helping for as long as you want. So don’t worry about me, okay? I’m a big boy. I have a voice and a mouth.”

Oh yes he did, and they were both divine. He slid his other hand onto her face, cupping her cheek, and Bea shivered at the touch.

“And free will,” he continued, the lazy stroke of his thumb causing an outbreak of goose bumps down her throat and onto her décolletage. “I can speak for myself, and if I want to stop, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Bea dragged in a husky breath. The man was persuasive when he put his mind to it, because she had come to Credence to break the mold. To be a different kind of Beatrice. To let go of the strictures of her life and just do what she wanted.

And God help her, she wanted to do Austin Cooper.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice a soft burr.

Bea swayed toward him, and he stepped in that last little bit to bring their bodies together. He was right, damn it—he was a big boy. He had free will. And she’d given him ample opportunity to turn tail and run. “Uh-huh,” she murmured, her tongue swiping out to wet suddenly dry lips as she stared up at him.

“Good.”

He smiled, and Bea was utterly fascinated with the curve of his bottom lip. She wanted to bite it, then give it a soothing lick. Her belly was turning loops as everything heated. Her breasts felt heavy, an ache kicked to life between her legs.

“So…what do you want to do now?” His other hand slid onto her jaw until he was cradling her face, his gaze zeroing in on her mouth like he wanted a piece of hers as well. “Food? Booze? More Walking Dead?”

“I want to—” She stopped, swallowed, her throat dry now, too, but absolutely prepared to say what was on her mind. “Take Annie’s pie, smear lemon meringue over your chest, and lick it all off.”

A slow smile spread over his face. “I do like the way you think.” And then his hands slipped away and he took two paces back, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, hastily undoing them, just as he’d done yesterday. “Get the pie,” he said as he pulled the shirttails out of his pants and peeled the shirt back.

Bea’s legs went weak, incapable of any movement at the sight of all his lovely bare flesh, and her stomach growled in anticipation.

“Beatriss,” he said with equal amounts affection and exasperation. “Pie.”

Bea got the pie.