CHAPTER THIRTY

Three days later, Bea pulled her rental car up outside of Austin’s cabin, trying to quell the nervousness that had been ramping up since she’d landed in Denver a few hours ago. She’d called Austin’s mother to let her know she was about to do some major groveling to her son and ask if it was okay to do it at the ranch.

Margaret had been delighted. Over the groveling and the fact that Bea would soon be in town. “You’re here to stay, then?” she’d asked.

“Yes,” Bea had confirmed. “Whether Austin wants me or not, I’m here to stay.”

“Good. Credence needs people like you,” she’d said with a smile in her voice.

Margaret had instructed her to go straight to the cabin and let herself in, overriding Bea’s reluctance to take such liberties with assurances that Austin wouldn’t mind. The first thing Bea saw when she opened the door was not the magnificent vista through those huge windows but Princess curled up in the middle of Austin’s bed looking as regal and shabby chic as ever.

If she hadn’t known it before this minute, Bea knew it now—she loved Austin Cooper.

“Princess,” Bea murmured, crossing to the bed and crawling onto it, scooping the un-protesting kitty against her chest and hugging her tight. “I missed you,” she whispered into the patchy fur. “Thank you for looking after Austin.”

Although Bea would be lying if she didn’t admit to being a teeny bit jealous that Princess had been sleeping with her man.

Bea blinked—her man. She’d remembered Jill saying my man about Clay, and now she knew exactly how the other woman felt.

“Should we call Austin?” she asked the cat.

Ignoring Princess’s apparent disinterest in the question, Bea scrolled to his number on her cell. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tapped the screen.

He picked up on the third ring. “Beatrice?”

She sucked in a breath. His voice sounded guarded but so damn good. Her pulse fluttered, and Bea took a moment to gather herself, to make sure her voice was flirty rather than shaky.

“Yes…” She cleared her throat. “Officer. I’m just calling to report a crime in progress at the Cooper ranch.”

Bea didn’t miss the quick intake of his breath. “You’re…in Credence?”

Her belly tightened at the strained caution crackling over the airwaves, her anxiety cranking up a notch. She’d hoped that Austin would welcome her back with open arms—it hadn’t even been two weeks, after all. He couldn’t have fallen out of love with her in that time, surely?

But she didn’t blame him for being wary—she’d rejected him. And if the distance in his tone was like an icepick to her chest, then she only had herself to blame.

“Yes, I’m back.”

“Okay.” He paused. “For how long?”

“For good.” Bea hated that her voice trembled but she was almost sick with nerves.

There was silence at the other end, which turned the screw on the tension building between her shoulder blades. “Why are you at the ranch?”

She swallowed. “Because I thought it might be a private space for me to do some groveling.”

“There’s going to be groveling?”

Bea thought she detected a slight lightening of his tone and her pulse fluttered madly at her temple as she gave a nervous kind of half laugh. “There is.”

After a beat or two, he cleared his throat. “A crime in progress, you say?”

Bea smiled a wobbly smile as a cool flood of relief washed through her system. It wasn’t a green light but it was a start. “Yes. An abuse of the Gregorian calendar is currently taking place in the cabin between the main house and the barn.”

“Gregorian calendar, huh? Would you care to elaborate?”

She couldn’t tell if he was smiling or frowning on the other end; all Bea really knew was how good it was to hear his voice again. “Of course,” she said, keeping in character. “I have it on good authority that there’s a woman inside currently wearing Thursday panties.”

“I’m not sure that’s a problem, ma’am?” he said, then added, “I’m kinda partial to Thursday panties myself.”

Tears pricked the backs of Bea’s eyes at the warmth creeping into Austin’s voice and she pressed her lips together, daring to hope. “But it’s Wednesday. Which is in direct violation of the calendar.”

“I see… Pretty sure it’s also in direct contravention of Credence county bylaw four seven three subsection eight.”

“That’s what I thought, Officer. Maybe you should come and check it out? Before it descends into any further anarchy?”

“Yeah, Arlo does not approve of anarchy.”

Bea heard someone in the background—Arlo, she thought—querying what was happening. “Noise complaint,” he lied. “Out at the lake.”

The reply was distant but clear. “Give it to Reynolds. I need you here.”

Austin didn’t hesitate in changing his story. “Beatrice is at the ranch.”

There wasn’t any sound then. Even the muffled background office noises she hadn’t realized were audible suddenly stopped.

“Oh, for the love of… Go. Fix it. We’re sick of your sorry ass around here.”

Amid general laughter, Austin was back in her ear. “I’m on my way.”

Stupid tears blurred Bea’s vision as he hung up and she whispered, “Hurry.”

…

Bea heard the sound of a vehicle slowly approaching twenty minutes later. Her pulse leaped and she performed an instantaneous sit-up from her position curled around Princess on the bed. God…this was it.

Austin had thawed over the phone conversation, but she still had ground to make up.

She stood. Then she sat. Then she stood again, nerves making her indecisive as she moved to the kitchen, leaning her elbow casually on the bench. Quickly dismissing that as ridiculous, she stalked to the mantelpiece, resting her hand on that. Ugh—no. Too staged.

What about the couch?

She crossed to it, sitting on the arm, facing the door, crossing her legs. Then uncrossing them again. Then crossing them once more. A car door slammed, ricocheting along her nerve endings as she leaped up, standing undecidedly like a pimple on a pumpkin in the middle of the open floor plan, the beat of her heart a low echo in her ears.

Footsteps came next, and she couldn’t move at all. Then the sound of feet scraping on the mat. Then the door opened abruptly, and he was there, right there, filling up the doorway, his hat pulled low, scruff on his face, hands on his hips, his feet spaced evenly apart like he was the sheriff staring down the gunslinger.

He was breathtakingly male standing there like that and she could not take her eyes off him. Nor, apparently, could he take his eyes off her as his gaze ate her up. A surge of estrogen mixed with the adrenaline already flooding her system.

God, he looked good, this man she loved.

“Ma’am,” he said, his eyes burning into hers, his voice low and gravelly. “I understand there’s an issue with some panties?”

Oh, dear lord. Bea swallowed. Would she ever get used to the way he said panties. “Hey, Austin.”

He nodded. “Beatrice.” Then he stared a bit longer before saying, “So…you’re really back?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

She blinked at his rapid-fire reply. It wasn’t harsh, but it was direct, which was fair enough. And it deserved a direct answer. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s…good then.”

She smiled. “I brought you something.”

It took her another beat or two before she finally coaxed her legs into moving to the couch, where she’d placed the object in question earlier while waiting for him to arrive. She was relieved to see him enter and close the door after him. He ambled closer and was probably about halfway to her position when she reached over the back of the couch and grabbed the rectangular-framed three-by-three sketch, propping it along the top for him to see.

He halted abruptly, and she watched his face as his eyes roamed over the charcoal lines of the ranch house and the pastel shades of the landscape as the sun set.

“Beatrice,” he murmured eventually, his tone hushed as his gaze met hers. “It’s…”

Goose bumps prickled along her arms. “If you don’t like the frame, I can get it changed.” She’d chosen a rustic, wooden style to suit the internal decor of the ranch. “Or it can come out of the frame altogether.”

“No.” He stalked forward until he was a foot away from both it and her, taking his time to admire it again. “It’s perfect. It’s”—his eyes flicked to hers and locked—“exactly what I wanted. Mom will absolutely love it. Thank you.”

Bea smiled, almost giddy with relief. She knew it didn’t make up for the way she’d behaved, the way she’d ended things, but once she’d decided she was coming back to Credence, the urge to sketch the ranch as Austin had asked her to do all those weeks ago became an imperative.

And it had felt wonderful—not fighting her instincts, not pretending it was just doodling or unimportant. Embracing it. The lines of the ranch had flowed from her in less than an hour, sketching them from memory and the rose-gold hues of nostalgia for those Sunday afternoons drinking spiked iced tea with Austin’s family.

He stepped in, taking the frame from her and sliding it down to lean against the cushioned back of the couch. Turning to face her, he was close now, his hip pressed into the couch. She turned, too, mirroring his pose, her blood pumping thick and slow through her system as she realized she could just reach out and touch him. If he let her.

“So. You…are an artist?”

Bea’s smile faded. “Yes. You were right. I am and I always have been.” It felt good to say it again. To declare it to the other man she loved. “Just like my mother.”

“Your mother’s an artist?”

“She was.”

He raised an eyebrow. “She’s retired, or…”

“She died,” Bea supplied, filling in his blank. “When I was ten.”

“Oh, Beatrice.” His brow creased. “I’m so sorry.” His gaze was soft with empathy which soothed the rawness of her emotion.

Bea shook her head. “It was a long time ago,” she said quietly.

“Did she…” He stalled. “Was she…?”

“She died in a car accident.”

Grimacing, he shook his head. “God…that’s awful.”

“There was a man in the car with her, who was also killed. A much younger man. They’d run away together a couple of weeks prior.”

“Ah.” He nodded slowly. “That’s why you were skittish about being with me?”

“Yes. And why I’ve spent a lot of my life denying and suppressing that part of me that was clearly artistic. My dad had been through a lot with my mom, so creativity wasn’t…encouraged. Between him and my grandmother, who moved in with us after my mom died, there were a lot of rules. A lot of…redirection. I understand why; I was always drawing and I was good at it, but they loved me and were terrified that I’d be a chip off the old block. God…I was terrified I’d be a chip off the old block.”

“And then I came along and…”

“Uh-huh.” Bea smiled. “I was breaking all those rules, but you were like ground zero. The ultimate don’t-go-there. Until I couldn’t stay away any longer, and then I justified it as being okay, because I wasn’t running away with you. We weren’t in a relationship. Which, of course, we were.”

He reached for her hands and lifted them to his mouth, dropping a kiss on her knuckles and Bea’s heart skipped a beat. “Fucking-A we were.”

Austin tucked their hands against his chest and Bea reveled in their nearness. “But actually. You weren’t my ground zero at all. It was this.” Bea tipped her head sideways at the framed sketch. “I was terrified of this. Surrendering to this pull inside me that’s always been there. Surrendering to art. Because my experience of art as a kid was quite fraught, and there was so much emotional baggage attached to it. Which was why advertising was such a great fit.” She gave a wry laugh. “There’s no crying in advertising.”

He chuckled but sobered quickly. “I’m so sorry, Beatrice. About everything you’ve been through. And especially because I never asked you about this stuff. It always seemed like you could bolt at any minute, and I didn’t want to scare you by pushing too hard too fast. But I knew there was deeper stuff. And I should have been ballsier.”

“No.” Bea shook her head. “You gave me openings and I didn’t take them, and for that I’m sorry.” She took a steadying breath as her gaze locked on his. “I’m sorry I was too busy not falling in love with a twenty-five-year-old guy I’d just met that I actually missed the moment it happened.”

A deliciously slow smile morphed into a very sexy grin, the last remnants of wariness in his gaze evaporating. “You love me?”

Bea laughed. “I do.” She slid her hand onto his cheek. “I wasn’t looking for you, Austin. I came here to get away from things, start over, figure some things out, but here you were, and now I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I know exactly how you feel.”

He closed the miniscule distance between them, their bodies pressed tight as he lowered his mouth to hers, soft and slow. A kiss that explored, that savored. That said, Hello again. And, Remember me? And, I love you. A kiss that whispered about forever and happily ever after. Bea sighed into it, her hands sliding to his shoulders as she lost her breath to its sweetness and her heart to its fullness.

When they parted, they were both breathing a little harder.

“What now?” he asked, his forehead pressed to hers. “Are you sure about Credence? My offer to move to LA stands. As long as I’m with you, I can live anywhere.”

Hell, he was just too much. The perfect guy who she’d put through the wringer. His consideration, his willingness to sacrifice what he wanted for her, spoke volumes about his love. Just as she hoped her moving back to Credence permanently would be a signal to him about the depth of her love.

She shook her head. “Trust me, three weeks in LA was enough.” She eased back a little. “I was back to ordering egg white omelets, Austin.”

He chuckled. “That sounds awful.”

She shuddered. “It was.”

“What about your corner office?”

“Yeah, that was kinda neat. But then I got it and I realized I didn’t want it more than I wanted you. More than I wanted an office looking out over that.” She turned her head to gaze out the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking fields where horses and cows grazed in the distance. “If that’s okay by you.” She turned her attention back to him. “I understand if you want to take a step back and take things slower, given how I flaked out on you and—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence. Austin swooped in, silencing her with his mouth, dropping a string of kisses against her lips that left Bea dizzy. “I love you, Beatriss,” he whispered, his warm breath caressing the parted line of her mouth. “Nothing would make me happier than you living here with me.” He pulled back a little and smiled. “I’m pretty sure my mother will throw you a parade.”

Bea laughed. Prior to meeting Austin, she would have thought it weird to have family living on top of one another, but the Coopers made it work, and she couldn’t wait to be part of their village.

“So you’re going to work for Greet Cute from here?”

“Only on Cranky Bea creative.”

Bea loved how that word—creative—no longer made her want to go and hide under the covers. It still felt new and shiny, but she was a creative and she was done pretending otherwise. “They’ve contracted me for a dozen new designs every month, but that’s it. And in between doing that, I’m going to see what else my muse throws at me.”

He shook his head, lifting his hand to caress her cheek. “I can’t believe you’re here. That you’re staying.” His eyes roamed over her face like he wanted to memorize every detail. “I missed you every damn day, Beatriss.”

Bea smiled. “I missed you, too.”

He pressed his forehead to hers again, the breath shuddering out of him in a big, deep sigh, and Bea held on to him tight, realizing how close they’d come to missing out on this.

They stayed like that for a long time until Austin eventually stirred. “Now”—he unglued his forehead from hers—“about those panties… I believe, to conduct a thorough investigation, I’ll need to see the offending item.”

Bea laughed as things inside her Thursday panties got very excited at the prospect of being investigated. “You don’t need to get back to work?” She knew what a stickler Arlo was, and she’d probably kept Austin long enough. “It’s okay.” She ran her finger down the side of his face. “We’ve got the rest of our lives.”

He smiled, grabbing the finger and kissing it. “It is incumbent upon me, the first officer on scene, to gather evidence. I wouldn’t want to besmirch the good name of the Credence Police Department by shirking my responsibilities.”

Bea sighed, spying the handcuffs hanging from his utility belt, and her heart beat a little faster. “I’d hate to be arrested for hindering an investigation, Officer.”

Then she yanked down the zipper of her fly and kicked out of her jeans, smiling as Austin muttered, “Holy fuck,” under his breath, his eyes zeroing in on her Thursday panties.

Recovering quickly, he looked at her and said, “Turn around and spread ’em, ma’am.”

Ma’am. Gah! For that, she was going to do him twice.