Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6) (2 page)

Looking at her almost made the Christmas trappings bearable. Damn, he hated Christmas. Lights. Bells. Music. Food. Gifts. And it didn’t stop for days on end.

“Why, Beau?” Christian asked. “Why do you want to stay here when you’ve got your own suite of rooms at Beauford Bend?”

“Complete with a hospital bed that I don’t need and my own personal physical therapist and masseuse? I thought Jackson was going to cut up my meat tonight.”

Christian tilted her head to the side and laughed that natural, easy laugh that lit up her whole face. “It was pretty surreal, wasn’t it?” She extracted her hand from his, undid her ponytail, and redid it. “And let’s not forget the SUV.”

“And do you know he actually apologized for that? Said he would have bought me a Porsche Spyder if I weren’t so tall and my back weren’t hurt. I don’t even know what that is, but I assume it’s some sort of low-to-the-ground sports car.”

“He loves you, Beau.” Christian’s voice was low and sweet, with no trace of chastisement. She was still wearing the off-white sweater she’d had on at the party. The little gold threads woven through it reflected off the Christmas tree lights into her dark eyes. “He loves you so much.” Her expression went all dreamy.

“I know he does. And I love him. And Gabe and Rafe, too. But there are just so damned many of them now. And soon there’ll be more.”

And that was more people—more family—who could die. He’d caused the death of his parents and baby sister. From the time when it happened when he was eight years old until he escaped at eighteen, he’d lived with the ghosts and the guilt. The guilt never truly went away, but it was sharper and fresher at Beauford Bend. Now here he was, hurt, with no plans, and some savings but no real money.

“The Beauford clan did grow rather quickly, didn’t it?”

That was the God’s truth, and all in less than a year. Jackson had married Emory, who was now pregnant; Rafe had discovered he had fathered two-year-old twins, moved the girls to Beauford Bend, and then married Abby, who had a two-year-old boy; then, last week, Gabe and his fiancée Neyland had eloped to Vegas instead of having the big shindig the women thought they should have had. Beau liked his new sisters-in-law. He did. But throw in Dirk and Gwen, Jackson’s head of security and Emory’s catering manager for the events business, plus their two kids, and it was too much, too many people who could die. He couldn’t afford any more attachments or any more ghosts. That might not be rational, but, then again, that’s why he’d left in the first place. But he wouldn’t say all that to Christian. Better to go with the too much noise and chaos factor.

“Apparently, Jackson decided the kids each needed a puppy, so there’re dogs and kids every damn where.”

“It won’t last forever. Rafe and Abby are building their own house on the property, and Gabe and Neyland are looking for a house in town.”

“But that’s not today.”

Christian studied her thumbnail intently. “Something tells me it’s not the noise and the dogs that are driving you from your home.”

Home? He supposed it was, but he’d never expected to return to Beauford Bend to live. He’d thought he’d die in the Army from a bullet or old age, but one stupid, bad parachute jump and here he was. He’d recover, but he’d never be a hundred percent—and there was no such thing as a Ranger who wasn’t a hundred percent. Sure, the Army had offered him other jobs, but after ten years of being part of what he considered the most elite operation in the country, it was unthinkable to settle for less. No. Only the Best of the Best for Sgt. Beau “Charmer” Beauford. He was one big screwup—starting with the night his parents and little sister had died in that fire.

It had been end of their annual family beach vacation. As they had done for the last couple of years, Jackson and the twins were going to camp out that last night. But that year for the first time, eight-year-old Beau was going to be allowed to join them instead of being kept inside with his parents and baby sister. Then he’d gotten a cough and a runny nose, and his mother had told him he had to stay inside the beach house after all. Only Beau had had other ideas. He knew better than to let his brothers know he’d snuck out, so he’d rolled his sleeping bag out behind the tent and gone to sleep.

And he’d slept through the whole thing—the fire, the sirens, his mother throwing Camille from the balcony in a last-ditch effort to save her. Only there would never have had to be a last ditch effort if Beau had obeyed. He knew as well as he knew the sun was going to rise that his parents hadn’t escaped because they’d discovered his bed empty and had been searching the house for him.

When Beau had finally stumbled from behind the tent, his parents and Camille were dead and his brothers were clinging to each other—Rafe locked down and quiet, Gabe nothing short of hysterical, and Jackson looking wild and lost. It was only when Jackson grabbed him into his arms and started to cry that Beau realized they’d thought he’d been dead in the fire, too.

It was the last time Beau had seen Jackson cry, but Jackson had never stopped grabbing on to him—or trying to.

Being the recipient of undeserved love was a hard job. He’d run from it once when he’d persuaded Dirk to take him to the bus station on graduation night. And Christian was right. He wasn’t running from the noise, the kids, and the chaos now. Aside from running from the memories, he was running from the love. But he wasn’t about to tell her that, either.

He smiled the smile that had gotten him what he wanted more than once, the one that had earned him his Ranger nickname, Charmer.

“I just need to get away from the coddling and the big plans, Christian. Did you know they have it all mapped out that I’m supposed to be part of this rough stock business Rafe is starting up? Like I know anything about breeding bulls for the rodeo. Or—get this—Jackson says it’s not too late for me to go back to school and on to law school. Hell, if it would undo the fact that I ran off, I think he’d have me be the oldest living fraternity boy.”

“What are you going to do?” Christian asked.

She was the first person who had asked him that question. Everyone else had been intent on telling him what he should do.

“I don’t know yet, Christian. Two weeks ago, I thought I was going to go on serving my country doing the only thing I know how to do. I just need some space and some time to figure things out.”

“For what it’s worth, I think that’s smart.”

“It’s worth a lot. More than you know. Now, are you going to rent me that room?”

Without hesitating, Christian shook her head. “I can’t.”
What?
Never in the history of the world had Christian told him no.

“I don’t have a room to rent you. There’s no room at the inn. But you can have one of the guest rooms in my apartment on the third floor.”
Apartment
was not really an apt description. When they’d turned Firefly Hall into a B&B, Christian and her mom had turned the whole third floor into a private living space for themselves. It was more like a magical little cottage hung in the air.

Relief flooded through him. Sanctuary. Privacy. Safety. And a magical cottage couldn’t hurt.

But as he watched Christian’s bottom sway when she preceded him up the stairs, he questioned the safety.

“Are you sure you have to be closed when we come back through?” Mrs. Ozbolt held out her coffee cup for Christian to refill. Though she had a cook and wait staff, Christian always made it her business to bustle around, pour coffee, and chat with her guests at breakfast. They liked that. It had been mentioned more than once in TripAdvisor reviews. “We love it here so much.”

“I appreciate that,” Christian said. “But I really do have to close on the twenty-third. I’ll reopen on December twenty-seventh.” Technically, she didn’t have to close. Her original plans had been to fly up and meet her mother in Virginia, where they would spend Christmas with cousins. But when she’d gotten the news that Beau was hurt and coming home, her first inclination had been to cancel her travel plans, so that’s what she’d done. She felt sorry for the Ozbolts, who were traveling for the holidays because their only son and his family were with the in-laws this year, but not sorry enough to give up her much-wanted break. Besides, she’d already given the staff the time off, and she wouldn’t take that back.

And if Beau really was determined to stay here indefinitely, she wanted him to have some peace and quiet for at least a few days. She would move him into Moon Glow, the best room on the first floor. It was a large, with a big, comfortable rice bed, and she wanted to spare him the stairs. More than that, she wanted to spare herself from trying to sleep with only a wall separating the two of them.

Last night hadn’t been her best night.

She moved down the length of the long dining table. “How’s your Bloody Mary, Mr. Cranston?”

“Perfect.” He took a sip. “And so is my ham sandwich. That’s one reason I keep coming back here. I don’t like regular breakfast food, and you never try to make me eat it.”

Christian smiled at him. “We want you to feel at home here.”

“But it’s your loss.” Mrs. Cranston raised her fork. “These cheese grits are divine.”

Christian moved to end of the table where newlyweds Weston and Julie Evans from Connecticut sat. They hadn’t been any trouble to anyone. “What are you folks going to do today?” she asked.

“We’re going to look at some of the shops in town,” Weston said. “And we’re going into Nashville tonight to see the Sound play.”

Beauford was a boutique town with some of the finest artisans and craftsmen in the country. The shops in town that sold handmade, one-of-a-kind goods were what brought most people there. And it didn’t hurt that Nashville, with its fine dining, music scene, and pro sports was a half hour away.

“So you’re hockey fans?” Christian asked.

Julie nodded enthusiastically. “We both played in high school. There’s nothing like an NHL game.”

Christian leaned in closer and whispered, “Be sure and go to my friend Noel’s quilt shop, Piece by Piece. Another of my friends, Neyland, is a jewelry artist, and she also works out of there. I’ll tell you a secret. Noel is married to Nickolai Glazov, the Sound center. And if you like pro football, Neyland is married to Gabe Beauford. I can’t promise, but they’ve been known to hang around Piece by Piece.”

Julie clapped her hands together.

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” Weston teased her.

Christian had just set the coffee pot on the sideboard and reached for the pitcher of orange juice when the front door chime rang softly, followed by hard, quick footsteps in the foyer.

She’d been expecting this. But despite her long legs and determination to move quickly, Jackson Beauford barreled into the dining room before she could head him off. Tall, solid, and good-looking, he was breathing hard and wore a storm cloud on his face. The room went absolutely silent. Christian might have been impressed herself if she hadn’t seen him get turned around and fall in the pool while playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey at her eighth birthday party.

“Is that—” Julie Evans said.

“No!” Christian practically pushed Jackson out of the room. “Pardon me for a moment everyone.” She shut the pocket doors behind her. She looked around for Jackson’s bodyguard. “You got away from Dirk again, didn’t you?”

Jackson closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Where is my little brother?”

“Which one?” Christian asked slowly and deliberately.

“I only have one!”

“Well, technically …”

“Stop it, Christian. You know what I mean. Rafe and Gabe can take care of themselves. Where is Beau?”

Christian did not think this was the most opportune of times to point out that Beau was twenty-eight years old and an elite soldier.
Was
an elite soldier. That was over.

“Let’s go to my office.” She needed to get Jackson out of there. He was known as the true gentleman of country music, and he was unfailingly and sincerely warm to his fans. However, in just about two minutes, the Firefly Hall guests were going to put two and two together, come up with a superstar, and storm the foyer. Given Jackson’s mood, he could destroy his sterling reputation, and it wouldn’t do Firefly Hall any good either.

“I don’t want to go to your office. I want Beau. And, Christian, I swear on a stack of Bibles, if you don’t tell me where he is, I’m going to start opening doors.”

“That will be hard since they all lock automatically.”

“No lock has ever kept me out of somewhere I wanted to be.” She didn’t doubt that for a second.

“Jackson, please. Beau is still asleep. Let’s go talk.”

That seemed to take some of the wind out of his sales. “Asleep. Not gone? I thought you might have taken him to the airport.”

“Come on.” Christian led him to her small office in the back of the house. She sat down at her desk, and Jackson practically fell into the upholstered fan back chair. “Do you want anything? Coffee?”

He shook his head and sulked.

“Why did you think I might have taken Beau to the airport?”

“Because you would have if he’d wanted to go.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Figures.”

She took a deep breath. “Jackson, if Beau wanted to leave town, my refusing to take him to the airport wouldn’t stop him.”

“That’s what Dirk says about the night Beau ran away the first time.”

“And that’s true.” Though the pain of that night was still with her, too. That had been a rough spring. It was hard to say if that graduation night or prom night was worse.

Probably prom night. Back in the winter when Beau and Mary Charles McAnnally had broken up, he and Christian had shared a bottle of Boone’s Farm strawberry wine. Near the bottom of the bottle, Beau had sworn he was done with women and proposed that he and Christian go to the prom together in April. She hadn’t even been put off by the backdoor invitation, but in an effort not to seem too eager, she had agreed, but only with the stipulation that if either of them found someone else to go with, they were welcome to back out. Not that she was looking. In fact, she was over the moon. Unfortunately, she had stressed the stipulation so rigorously and so often that when Beau and Mary Charles made up two weeks before prom, he did, indeed, feel welcome to back out.