Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Was it because someone finally believed in him or I’d offered unconditional friendship? I didn’t know, but one thing was becoming clear: Beau was probably not good friend material for me. He was hot, steamy, dream material.
Case in point: last night I woke up to him shaking me. He’d said that I was making sounds like an alley cat with a broken leg. Reywrrr! Reywrrr!
“I guess I was having a nightmare,” I’d said. But really, I’d been dreaming of riding him cowgirl style on a sleigh. There were lights all around us, and people were cheering as we slushed on by like a portable winter porn movie.
Thankfully, Beau left early this morning, saying that he had to “take care of more business,” which gave me the opportunity to cool off. Aka flick one out. Seriously, I didn’t know how much more friendship I could take, and it had been less than twenty-four hours.
At least tomorrow I could go to work and let numbers distract me until my eyes crossed.
With laundry done and my apartment dusted and vacuumed, Sunday night rolled around, but there was no sign of Beau. He didn’t have a cell, so there was no way to call and make sure he was okay.
Convincing myself I was being silly for worrying about a man who’d lived as a proud, self-sufficient hobo for ten years, I brushed my teeth, got into my PJs, and tucked myself into bed. But as I tossed and turned, my dark thoughts wouldn’t let up.
What if something had finally happened to him? He could be in a ditch, bleeding or choking on a sandwich.
“Dammit.” I got up, slid on my tennis shoes and coat, and grabbed my purse. I got into my truck and drove around, hitting the main streets around my neighborhood.
No sign of him.
I felt so worried, I didn’t even enjoy the lights, which were spectacular during the holidays. The homeowners on my street, Peppermint Street, always went all out, decorating the fronts of their houses and trees. It was tradition.
After over an hour, I finally gave up. I had work in the morning, so I’d simply need to trust that Beau could take care of himself.
On the way inside my building, I bumped into Jason going out the front door.
“Haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said. “Everything okay?”
“Oh. Yeah. It’s just that I have a friend staying with me, and he hasn’t come back yet. Was a little worried, so took a spin around the block.” Or ten spins.
“A friend, huh?” He wiggled his brows. “Does he have a name?”
I felt embarrassed to admit who the friend was—I mean, Tent Guy. Hello—but my worry for Beau superseded my discomfort over being judged. “You remember the man in the red tent?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”
Huh? Jason was the one who shunned me the first time I saw Beau and wanted him removed. On the other hand, the last time Jason and I spoke, he only recalled seeing Beau just the once despite the fact that Beau had stuck around for weeks. Still, it was odd that he didn’t remember Beau at all.
“Are you sure you don’t remember him?” I pushed. “I complained about a tent right next to the dumpster.”
Jason wiggled his lips from side to side. “Ohhh…that guy. Wait, he’s your friend?” Jason chuckled.
“Don’t be rude. He’s a really nice person.”
“Hey, to each their own,” he said. “I just never pegged you for the type of woman who went for older men.”
“Older? He’s my age.”
Jason gave me a look like I was insane. “Maybe we’re talking about two different people. The guy I saw was in his late sixties. Kind of thick in the middle. Long white beard.”
I laughed. “That’s definitely not Beau.”
“Hmm. Well, I’ll keep an eye out for a lost guy about your age.”
“Thanks. Night, Jason.”
“Night.”
I went up to my place, scratching my head. Maybe Beau had let some old guy crash in his tent. It wouldn’t be entirely out of character to help a stranger.
I snuggled under my covers and finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to an empty apartment. No nutty, dark coffee. No delicious smell of pancakes. And no Beau.
I was officially worried, but I had to be at work. There was a big insurance quote due for a developer planning to build a sprawling, three-hundred-home development. My bosses would not be happy if I turned in my risk assessment late.
I rushed to get dressed and headed for the door. Two steps outside, I bumped into Beau coming up the walkway. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious. Both. Definitely both.
“What happened to you?” I asked calmly.
He rubbed the back of his messy dark hair. “I stopped by the shelter yesterday and ended up helping out with some repairs in their kitchen. After that, I was walking back here and saw a For Hire sign in a window. I applied, and they gave me a job right on the spot.”