CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Half an hour later, Austin lay on the bed about as physically sated as he’d ever been, considering Beatrice had made him a bona fide glutton. He never wanted to stop touching her and tasting her and being over her and beside her and inside her, but right now, with the tart aroma of lemons and the sweet smell of sugar mixing with a flood of endorphins, he was pretty damn tapped out.

For the moment, anyway.

She’d scared him when he’d first arrived. He’d known something was up from the moment she opened the door. After her boner-inducing titty flash—not a good thing when trying to tell Bob Downey his tire was illegal and that being the mayor forty years ago didn’t give him some special exemption from the road laws—and her promises to be dressed in nothing but her panties, Austin had been busting a gut to get to her place.

Slowest. Day. Of. His. Life.

Of course.

But then she’d been in her sweats and bunny slippers and there’d been a definite coolness to her welcome. Thank God for Annie’s pie or she might not have let him in at all.

He hadn’t known what happened, but he knew something sure as hell had, and a reckless kind of desperation had risen in his chest to find out. Maybe if he knew her better, he’d have known intuitively what was up, but he didn’t—yet—and he wasn’t too proud to just come out and ask.

Still, to hear her second-guessing what had happened between them and trying to box it into something had made him a little frustrated. If there was one thing he did know about Beatrice it was that, for all her bravado, she was skittish—about the age gap, about her uncertain future, about her place in the world. And trying to pin her down or fence her in with all that going on would be dumb with a capital D.

This wasn’t a standard relationship where he met someone in May and they fell into a pattern of dating and fucking and hanging out with each other’s friends and making plans for Thanksgiving together, only to have it fizzle out in August. It was different. He knew that already. Knew he had to get out of its way and let it become what it was destined to become.

Take it one day at a time.

Thankfully, she’d been prepared to listen to his arguments and be swayed. Because he really was fine with what was happening, and he didn’t need her making decisions for him like he was some fresh-off-the-farm hayseed with no agency. Corporate life had obviously made her cautious, and he got that—being a cop was hardly a cakewalk. But he could handle whatever this was.

More than that, he was prepared to be whatever she needed him to be right here, right now because she simply didn’t know what she wanted yet. And that was okay, too.

Beatrice’s hair tickled his nose as he nuzzled the crown of her head. Austin hadn’t ever given much thought to the joys of the post-coital state. The part where two people who’d just had orgasms got to bask in the aftermath and enjoy the flood of happy hormones, when every worry was obliterated, every ache was neutralized, every mental mountain was conquered. Even if only for a short while.

Yeah, he liked it and he’d never been the kind of guy who laid next to a woman plotting how quickly he could leave. But he’d never felt this content, either.

“I figured I’d need a shower after you were done licking that stuff offa me, but I can see”—his hand ran down his belly, surprised to find a distinct lack of stickiness—“you were very thorough.”

When she’d slathered that meringue lower and lower, then reached for his belt buckle, Austin’s knees had almost given out and, for a moment, he thought it was all going to end there with an embarrassing display of prematurity he hadn’t suffered since the night he’d lost his virginity. But he’d rallied, managing to hold on until she’d finished using him as a plate and all the pie was gone and she took him all the way to the end with her mouth, and then he’d flipped her onto her back, stripped off her sweats and those Thursday panties, and shown her how much he liked to eat.

He felt the upward turn of her lips against his chest as she smiled. “I wouldn’t dare disrespect Annie by leaving even the tiniest morsel.”

Austin laughed. “I’m impressed. I doubt a forensic crew with a black light could pick up any trace.”

It was her turn to laugh, and he snuggled her closer, content to lay quietly with her for several minutes. “So…” he said eventually, his fingers sifting through her hair. “You want to talk about this morning?”

“Nope.”

All righty then. “Not even about the job offer?”

Austin didn’t want to be the guy who let things slide for fear it would put them in the weeds. He didn’t want to be the guy who pushed, either. But it seemed like neglecting his boyfriend/lover/friend/interested-human-being duties to not ask.

Plus, he was curious.

A long sigh escaped her lips, spreading warm air over his pec. “Somebody I used to work with has started a greeting card company and wanted to know if I was interested in doing some design work for them.”

“And are you?” Austin had no idea how that sort of thing worked, but clearly Beatrice did if she’d been headhunted for it, and he couldn’t help but think of her magnificent sketch of the lake. “Maybe even a little?”

“Have I ever come across as a Hallmark kinda woman to you?”

Austin chuckled. “No.”

“Right.”

“So you told them no.”

“I explained I don’t think I had the temperament for schmaltz. And then I sent them some scanned copies of three quick mock-ups I drew to illustrate the current state of my personality so they had a thorough understanding of my unsuitability. I don’t think they’ll be knocking down my door anytime soon.”

Austin grinned. “Can I see them?”

She didn’t say anything for a while, and Austin worried that he had uttered some unforgivable request, given how super squirmy she’d been over the lake sketch. But then she pushed herself up to gaze down at him. “Sure, if you want.” She looked over her shoulder. “I think the originals are beside the bed.”

She rolled away then, her back to him as half her body disappeared over the side of the bed. Her T-shirt rode up with the movement, and he trailed his fingers down the furrow of her spine from mid-back to ass, because it was impossible not to touch. Rolling back again, she levered into a sitting position, crossing her legs as she gazed at her drawings. Austin also sat up, cross-legged, as Beatrice handed them over.

The drawings were very different from the one of the lake, the caricatures of herself and Princess uncanny in their likeness. They were in mostly black, the addition of color adding flare and detail. He especially liked the tiara for Princess, who was currently lying on his shirt again, glaring at them. She may have only had one eye, but her disgust at their debauchery was coming across loud and clear.

Each drawing was slightly different and so was each caption, which made him laugh. The drawings were funny as hell. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at her, “these ought to do it.”

She smiled at him. “That’s what I thought.”

“They’re really good, though. You’re really talented, Beatrice.”

If he wasn’t very much mistaken, her cheeks pinked up. “They’re okay.”

She took the sketches off him and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Clearly, she wasn’t comfortable talking about her art, and he couldn’t help but feel there was a lot more to that issue than she was letting on.

“You want some water?” she asked as she headed for the kitchen.

“No thanks,” Austin murmured, enjoying the view of her half-naked form, the bottom curve of her butt cheeks just peeking out below the hem of her T-shirt. His dick twitched at the sight.

What he wanted didn’t involve water.

“You want to come out to the ranch on Sunday?” he asked, watching her fill a glass up at the faucet.

She paused briefly as she reached to turn the faucet off, and Austin watched as she took several long swallows of water before she turned to face him, her ass pressed against the sink. He couldn’t see anything—everything was covered—but she might as well have been naked given how thoroughly ravaged she looked. Her expression was cool, but everything else about her was hot.

He doubted anything could counteract her crazy bed/orgasm hair, the two hard points of her nipples pressed brazenly against the cotton fabric, and the way her T-shirt rode indecently high on the very tops of her thighs.

Thighs he’d been buried between not that long ago, and his dick was doing more than twitching right now. It was expanding. Rapidly.

“Why?”

The question was even cooler than her expression and caught Austin off guard for a moment. It didn’t do anything for the state of his erection, but it made him remember her skittishness. Did she think he was inviting her home to meet his family? His mother? Or hell, did she think he was pushing for her to do that sketching of the house he’d suggested?

“Nothing to do with my mom’s birthday present, I promise. It’s just…we have horses,” he explained. “If you still want to ride one. And I thought we could sleep out under the stars. Take the pickup and head out to the far corner of the ranch. Throw a mattress in the back.”

“You have horses?” Her brow furrowed, but at least her body visibly relaxed at the news he wasn’t taking her home to meet Mommy or to stick her in front of an easel.

Austin chuckled. “Umm, yeah. I live on a ranch.”

“Oh yes.” She gave a little laugh as she shook her head. “D’oh! Of course.”

“What do you say? Let me show you something I’m really good at?” Suddenly he wanted her to see where he was from, the place that was stuck deep in his bones. The reason why he’d returned to Credence and the reason he never wanted to leave.

“Riding a horse?”

“Nah.” He grinned to hide the fact that his heart was thudding hard in his chest at how important it felt to show her that part of him. “Making you see stars.”

She laughed as she set the glass down on the bench top and slinked back in his direction. “You are very good at that.”

“I am.” What was the point of being modest? Austin had always prided himself on giving before getting, but with Beatrice, his sexual satisfaction was so closely entwined with hers, it was the most natural thing in the world to reach for the stars.

“Maybe I need a bigger sample size to truly judge, though? One thing I learned in advertising was the efficacy of a decent sample size.”

“God, corporate speak.” He grinned. “I love it.”

Halting at the end of the bed, she asked, “You mean like efffficacy?”

Austin swore his dick twitched at her deliberate tease. “Uh-huh.”

“And sample size.”

“Yup. And for the record, I think you definitely do. Need one. Gotta be sure.”

She pulled her T-shirt off over her head, then tossed it on the ground, causing Princess to meow indignantly as the shirt almost landed on her head. But Beatrice wasn’t paying any attention to the cat and neither was Austin. His attention was fixed firmly on her breasts and the way her nipples had hardened into two succulent-looking berries just waiting to be sucked.

Putting her knee on the bed, she said, “Prepare to be sampled.”

Austin unfurled his legs, straightening them out in front of him, his cock resting hard as an iron bar against his belly. “Be gentle with me.”

She wasn’t.

…

Beatrice woke late and wearing Princess as a hat again—she had the whole damn bed for pity’s sake!—the next morning after another night of sex, TV, popcorn, and laughter with Austin. And another five a.m. send-off before he crawled out of bed for the ranch, then work, while she went back to sleep, riding a dopamine high.

A high that lasted until she opened her laptop and checked her email, desperately curious about how Kim had reacted to her drawings. She assumed that Kim probably wouldn’t answer at all. That she’d either be irritated by Bea’s lack of seriousness or annoyed at how Bea had essentially poked fun at something Kim was obviously passionate about.

But Kim was neither of those things. She was…ecstatic?…if the subject line of her email was any indication. It simply said, Yaaaas! More, please!

Bea stared at the screen. What the hell? Was Kim on drugs? Had the pressures of a new business and the go-big-or-go-home mentality of LALA land caused her to crack?

Quickly, she scanned the email for the gist, which was that they absolutely loved her Cranky Bea drawings. They loved the irreverence and the complete disregard for the traditional greeting card genre and that they were sure these would appeal to a younger demographic as well as women over thirty-five or for those looking for a card that expressed their feelings of tiredness, dissatisfaction, and exasperation with honesty and humor.

And could they please put them up on their social media platforms to gauge if the public liked them as much as they all did with the view of putting them into their production lineup?

Oh, and they’d pay her for the three drawings. An amount that made Bea blink a little.

If she’d received an email from the king of England asking her to tea at Buckingham Palace, she’d have been less surprised. She glanced at Princess, who was purring loudly beside her, furry chin resting on Bea’s leg, the deep rumble of her purrs being felt all the way down to her damn femur.

That snaggletooth was even more off-putting as she looked at Bea through her half-opened good eye. She wasn’t sure if the cat was sleeping or if this was just Princess’s snooty, regal expression she reserved for commoners. She hadn’t yet gotten to know all the cat’s faces.

Her initial instinct to reject the request was quickly and surprisingly overridden. She’d done the hard part—she’d drawn the images. What harm could some sampling do? In fact, she was way more comfortable with that side of it than the creative process. It was who she was, after all—an ad executive, not an artist.

She was her father’s daughter, not her mother’s.

“What do you think, kitty cat?” Bea stroked down the patchy fur of Princess’s back. “You ready to have your face plastered all over TikTok and Instagram?”

Princess opened her good eye fully for a beat, then let it fall to half-mast again, obviously not considering Beatrice’s question worthy of her brain cells.

“Yeah. My thoughts exactly.”

She shot off a quick reply to Kim, basically telling her to go for it, because, hell, why not? She’d wanted a new life, right?

Why not this? Why not now?