Page 10 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
What was wrong with me? How could I be fantasizing about sex at a time like this? I’d been a fiend all night about Beau.
Maybe it was my mind’s way of preserving my sanity. Sex had always been my escape from reality, the one thing that I’d never taken too seriously. Tonight, I’d cut myself a break. Tomorrow, I’d eliminate sex from the mental roster.
“Did you grow up in Seattle?” Beau asked, tugging my thoughts back into the safe zone.
“No, I’m from Florida. I moved to Seattle right after graduating high school.”
“Did you and Felicity meet in college?”
I grinned. “Sort of. We both went to the same school but that’s not where we met. She and I were both on the short list for a coveted apartment near campus. The landlord was a real piece of work. I’d been trying to bribe him with baked goods and gift cards for an open studio. Turns out Felicity was doing the same and the asshole was just stringing us along. When we put all the pieces together, we found a two-bedroom apartment managed by someone who didn’t take advantage of two naive young women.”
Felicity had been my roommate and best friend for nearly ten years. She had only moved out once we’d become established in our careers. She’d moved into a classy downtown condo while I’d stayed in the run-down apartment we’d shared. But when I’d inherited some money from my grandmother’s estate, I’d splurged and used it to rent a place three blocks away from Felicity.
She was more family than friend.
Felicity was the one person I’d let into my life since high school. She was so strong and self-confident. She never let me push her away, even when I tried. It had taken some time, but I had learned that I didn’t have to fear her friendship would end. She was in it for a lifetime.
When Felicity had moved to Montana, I’d needed something to fill the void of her absence, a reprieve from the loneliness. It was probably one of the reasons I’d thrown myself so completely into the Federov story.
But Beau didn’t need to know any of that.
“Do you have other family in Prescott besides your sister?” It felt better to ask Beau questions than answer his. The reporter in me was always more comfortable gathering information than revealing.
“Yeah. Pretty much my whole family. I’m a fourth-generation Montanan. My parents are still in my childhood home. My younger brother, Michael, lives two blocks away from me. My mom’s parents live in the same place they have for thirty years. My other grandma is in the nursing home. Aunts, uncles and cousins are all close too.”
“That sounds a lot like how things are with my family in Florida. I’m the only MacKenzie to move out of Florida in the last twenty years. Do you like having everyone close?”
“I do. I’m tight with Michael and Maisy and I try to spend as much time with Coby as I can, since he doesn’t have a dad around. But having everyone in my business gets old at times. None of the women in my family can understand why I’m not married yet. And they hate that I won’t let them set me up.”
Unmarried. Good to know. I had assumed that was the case from his bare ring finger but now my hunch had been confirmed—not that I was ever planning on pursuing Beau. I was sure the attraction I had for him would fade in a few days. This was just hey-look-a-hot-guy flutters. Right?
Right.
Besides, what on earth would he want with me? I was a fucking train wreck.
“So why doesn’t Coby have a dad?”
“Damn, you are nosy, aren’t you?”
“Hey, now! I’m a journalist. It comes with the territory.” I glared at his profile but softened at his wide smile full of straight, white teeth.
Now that was a good look.
Beau’s resting expression was stern. His dark eyebrows and straight nose were such serious features. But smiling? Hot damn. It might take me a couple of weeks instead of a couple of days to get over my crush.
The twitterpation would eventually fade, just like it always did. No man had ever captivated me for long. The most serious relationship I’d ever had had only lasted four months—that was if you didn’t count my torturous farce with Anton, which had lasted almost six.
Don’t go there.
My brain had enough to process tonight without my self-loathing playing into the mix. Later, after I was safe and settled into hiding, I could start to process how far I’d gone to get my story. I could th
ink about how many orgasms I’d faked with Anton. How many times I’d held back a cringe as he’d kissed me. About how I’d used my body to get my story and become famous.
About how I’d lost sight of why I’d started all of this in the first place.
Those things I’d think about later, but not right now. Tonight, I’d focus on learning more about Beau Holt.
“So, are you going to answer my question?”
