Hopeless (Chestnut Springs Book 5)
: Chapter 6

Harvey: Checking in on you. You missed another family dinner. Just wanna know you’re okay.

Cade: What Dad is trying to say is that he wants you to stop being a total dickhead and come around now and then.

Willa: What Cade is trying to say is that he misses you and worries about you.

Rhett: What Willa is trying to say is that she thinks you’re the sexiest Eaton brother and misses seeing you around because she’s stuck living with an ogre.

Cade: Get fucked, Rhett.

Summer: Cade, what Rhett is trying to say is that you’d be sexier with long hair.

Winter: Wrong.

Beau: Oh good, the family chat. Also, I agree with Winter.

Summer: We’re just worried about you, Beau. We like having you around.

Beau: Don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ll make the next one.

The giggle that filters back catches me off guard.

“First of all, it’s not your river.”

I expected it to be one of those Jansen assholes. But no. It’s their little sister with the wide eyes that stare at me from the other side of the bar. The one who doesn’t take my shit but tolerates my presence. Even when it’s stormy.

One reason I can’t sleep tonight.

One of many.

“Bailey?”

Her eyes widen as she takes in my bare chest. “How did you know I was here?”

Inky black hair shines under the bright moon as she pushes away from the log she was hiding behind. The water conceals her body, but above that line, my eyes hitch on her shoulders. The way the silvery light hits them—and the fact there are no straps in sight.

I scoff and blink away, not wanting to leer. “I’ve been a tier one operator for years. If I couldn’t pick out a civilian hiding in a river, I’d be dead already.”

She bobs in the water, and I drift closer to the edge. The creek must be under twenty feet across here and she’s pretty much smack dab in the middle.

I jut my chin out beyond her and shove my hands in the front pocket of my sweats. “There’s a pile of clothes on the shore.” Her head whips around to confirm, wet tendrils splaying over her slender shoulders. “Your body is disrupting the flow of water.” She glances down at herself now, at the way it folds around her in a different pattern than every other stream that passes. “And I could hear you breathing.”

Her head tilts to the side, all sass. “You could not hear me breathing.” Disbelief laces her words.

I like this sassy side of her. Before, when I’d come into the bar with my brothers, she always seemed so beaten down, so startled all the time. She made me want to save her. I just didn’t know how.

She’s stronger than I remember her, but I wonder if it’s all for show. I wonder if we’re the same that way.

But I just shrug. “Maybe I could feel you breathing. I don’t know how else to explain it. I could just sense it. You hone that sixth sense when your life is on the line.”

She stares at me, skin shimmering, reflecting the moonlight. I watch droplets of water roll down the front of her chest to the valley between her breasts.

She seems oblivious to how tempting she looks—to the way she affects me.

“Being able to twist a guy’s hand right off his body comes in handy too, I bet.”

I shift my gaze from the exposed top swells of her breasts to the river. “If you’re looking for an apology for that, you won’t get one.”

“I’m not.”

That has me turning my gaze back to her, trying to figure her out. “How long have you been coming here?”

A soft hum vibrates from her as she taps a finger against her pouty lips. “Trespassing to swim in your river? Years now, I guess.”

“You know my house is just beyond that embankment?”

“Huh. No. I didn’t.” I can tell she’s lying. “My trailer is just beyond that copse of trees.”

“Oh, yeah?” I bend to pick up a rock and pretend I don’t know that either.

I guess we’re both liars tonight.

“Why don’t you live at home?”

She chuckles. “Beau, you’ve met my family. If you were a tier one operator, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

My lips twitch. Smartass.

“I like to keep as much distance between myself and them as possible. It’s why I work so much. I’m saving up a solid nest egg to get the fuck out of here.”

“Yeah?”

She must be able to touch the bottom because she tips her head back, dropping lower into the water to wet her hair again.

“Yeah. I want to travel. Go to school. Pick a spot where I can settle down and not just be the youngest Jansen. A place where no one knows who I am, or where I came from. A fresh start.”

I turn the rock over in my hand as I turn her words over in my mind.

A fresh start.

That shouldn’t sound as good as it does to me. I shouldn’t want to leave this place too. My intense boredom feels like an affront to everyone who loves me, to this beautiful town I call home.

I’ve seen firsthand what it is to have nothing. And here I am, fortunate beyond compare—unhappy to my very core.

I guess that’s why I tell her, “You don’t need to start fresh. Nothing wrong with this town. You can make it work here.”

With her eyes still trained up on the starry sky, she scoffs at me. It’s good-natured enough, but it still has me straightening.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I turn and toss the rock downstream to clear some tension from my body. Then I pick up another one.

I wasn’t trying to convince her.

I was trying to convince myself.

“You still working at the hospital as a porter?” I ask, grasping at straws that will keep me here with the gentle rush of water and the sound of Bailey’s breathing under a blanket of pristine stars. “I remember seeing you there when I still had to go in for appointments.”

She hums thoughtfully, drawing my gaze. A sad smirk touches her lips. “I got fired.”

My head jerks back. “Why?”

She chuckles now, low and laced with sarcasm. Like something is funny but not that funny. “One of my brothers got caught breaking in.”

“To the hospital?”

“Yeah. One of the pharmaceutical cabinets in the ICU.”

Jesus. Her brothers really are stupid.

“So … why did you get fired?”

She spins, limbs sliding through the darkened water. “They accused me of letting him in. Giving him inside information.”

Fury bubbles in my gut.

“Did you tell them you didn’t?”

She hums again. “I kind of love that you immediately assume I didn’t do it. Refreshing.”

I scoff, chuck another stone, and duck down like I’m searching for a specific rock, even though in the dark they all look the same. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“Beau, my friend, you are in the minority. Because even with no proof and me denying it, they fired me. I’m not surprised, really. My main disappointment was losing a source of income. I’ve started cleaning the bar on the mornings that I don’t work at night. That’s bridging the gap. Barely. But I’ve been blacklisted pretty much everywhere else in town. No matter how nice I dress, how perfect my resume is, how great my references are, no one wants to hire me.”

The injustice of it riles me. She seems so resigned to this being normal. Being okay. Nothing about this is okay. It’s all wrong.

“They can’t just do that. You need to go back to the hospital and demand—”

“Even if I could get the job back, I don’t want to work in a place where people see me that way. Don’t you get it? That’s how I’m perceived here. The Railspur is the only place that doesn’t feel that way, thanks to the fact that none of the workers are local. That’s why I’ll leave as soon as I’ve saved up enough to pay a year’s rent.”

“Why a year’s rent? Why not leave now?”

She can’t make eye contact with me when she says, “My credit is shot. No one will approve me.” Her head shakes before she continues, “Anyway, for a long time, I didn’t realize I deserve better. But I do now, and I’m resigned to the fact my last name will always haunt me here.”

She keeps saying that and I try not to take it personally. I refuse to accept that this community I’ve always loved could be so deeply prejudiced against a young girl.

She’s wrong.

“It has nothing to do with your last name. Everything to do with you not standing up for yourself.”

She barks out a laugh. I recognize immediately that my words were harsh—judgmental—but she parries the blow they might have delivered. This girl is Kevlar.

“For someone who has seen some dark shit, you’re sure naive. Living in some sort of magical fairy land over there, Eaton? Why don’t you wave your wand, give me a different last name, and we’ll put this theory to the test.”

The heavy thud of my heart in my chest accelerates, pumping faster as the thrill of a new idea courses through my veins. A new mission.

“Is that a bet?”

“What?” She glides her hands through the water, giving me a confused look.

“That things would be different if you had a different last name?”

“It’s not a bet. It’s a fact.”

“I’ll take that bet.” My body thrums as this new idea takes shape in my mind. I’d also be willing to bet a therapist wouldn’t approve of my plan. But I stopped seeing one a couple of months ago, so nothing is holding me back.

“What bet? For a guy who drinks chamomile tea all night, you seem awfully confused.”

“I’ll give you my last name and we’ll see if people treat you differently.”

She goes deathly still. “How?”

“We get married.”

There’s a pregnant pause. It seems like even the creek stops babbling. And then, “I’m not marrying you. That’s insane.”

I wave off her words. I’m not accustomed to being rejected. Rejection doesn’t factor into my mindset. I usually get what I want, at any cost.

“We’ll get engaged. That will give you the promise of becoming an Eaton. We can plan a wedding that never happens.”

“Fake engaged?” She sounds incredulous, and I can’t blame her. This is a cracked plan. I’m definitely not thinking straight, but I also feel more excited than I have in literal months.

“Yes. We test our theories in public and break up before a wedding ever happens. Obviously.”

“Did you spike your tea with something?”

A deep laugh bubbles up out of me. “No.”

“Are you high?”

I roll my eyes now. “Bailey.”

“Don’t Bailey me!” She slaps the water with both hands as she laughs—a high, unhinged sort of squeal. “You’re acting insane. Why would you want to pretend to be engaged to me? Why would you do this?”

“Because it would get my family off my ass about how I’m doing, and where I spend all my time, and all that other overbearing shit they constantly ask me about. And I love a competition. What do I get if I win?”

“I haven’t agreed to this yet.”

Yet. I’ll take that.

Her white teeth drag across her bottom lip as she turns the idea over in her head.

I give her more to consider. “If you’re right, you’ll get everyone in town off your back for however long it takes you to get out of here. Maybe you can even get another job that pays better.”

“People won’t believe this.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re like town royalty. And you’re … how old are you? You’d never go for me.”

Wrong.

As soon as the thought springs up in my head, I shove it away. I sidestep every part of myself that knows there’s a self-serving aspect to this arrangement.

Every part of myself that knows I don’t care about the bet at all. I keep telling myself I am in control when it comes to Bailey.

I want to have control.

But I don’t.

“I’m thirty-five. And I’d definitely go for you.”

Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m losing it tonight, running on the familiar sensation of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Flush with the confidence that the old me possessed.

She tears her gaze away, staring down the river, and a shiver runs through her.

“Shit, you must be cold.” I sense her gaze back on me, tracing my outline in the dark. “Why don’t you get out?”

“Because I’m not wearing anything.”

My heart crashes against my ribs before coming to a screeching halt.

“I won’t look.”

Her head tilts. “Why don’t you get in?”

“Why?”

Her lips twitch. “So I can see what I’m signing up for. Are you husband material, Beau Eaton?”

“Probably not.” I smirk. “But if you want to show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

She doesn’t respond. She just stares. It feels like an entire conversation passes between us in the dark river alley.

Knowing I won’t follow through with that challenge, I drop her gaze and turn my back to the water. Cutting the thread pulled taut between us. Not wanting to be that guy. She’s vulnerable right now, and my control is horribly frayed.

But I replace myself desperately hoping she’ll humor me and go for this arrangement. On paper, it seems like she’d get more out of the arrangement.

But off paper … I’d be the winner.

Water swishes against her legs as she gingerly makes her way to shore. I wait with bated breath for her to respond.

“Ouch!”

My instincts spin me on the spot to make sure she’s okay, and I catch a quick glance of her bare ass. A tan line from where her bikini bottoms must sit. A trim waist and toned thighs. My pulse skyrockets, my dick grows hard, and I turn away quickly, hoping she doesn’t realize I saw anything. Her curves are already branding themselves into my brain, and I fail at stopping myself from imagining how it would feel to hold her, grip her ass as I got lost in her. One cheek in each—

“You okay?” My voice comes out thick and strangled as I shut that line of thought down.

“Yeah. Just a sharp rock.”

There’s a rustle of clothes and then silence.

“You ever going to turn around?” she calls from the other side of the creek.

“I was trying to be polite,” I say, propping my hands on my hips as I turn to face her.

She’s dressed now, and too far away for me to decipher her facial expression.

“Is that why you already looked at me?”

“I didn’t—”

“I saw you. Don’t have to be special ops to notice someone whipping around that quickly. You’re rusty, Beau Eaton.”

“I didn’t mean to.” I drop my head. “You said ouch, and I—”

“Thought you’d come save me?” Her statement comes out lighthearted, but it hangs heavy between us. Like we both know what this is.

I offered my last name because she looks like she needs someone in her life right now. And, shit, it might be time for me to admit that I need someone too.

I don’t address that, though. Instead, I ask, “Are you going to take the bet?”

Her eyes land like heavy weights against my skin. I can’t see them clearly, but I swear I can sense her internal struggle.

“I’m going to sleep on it. Meet me here tomorrow night.”

“Okay.” I nod, fingers squeezing against my hip bones as if that might quell the itch in them.

She turns to walk away, loose cotton shorts creasing under each butt cheek. The ones I’m going to try not to think about while I …

“I’ll bring a bathing suit next time. Might help with your self-control.”

I chuckle to myself.

“Hey, Beau, you never answered my question earlier.”

“What question?”

“Have you had anal sex?”

I bark out a laugh. That was not what I was expecting. At all. And I figure, what’s the point of lying? “Yeah. Once.”

“Did you like it?”

I blink. Wow, okay, just out with it then. Bailey Jansen yelling about anal sex over the creek bed has my boxers feeling outrageously uncomfortable, my dick ready to stand at attention.

“It wasn’t the best sex I’ve had.”

I can see the outline of her head nodding. “Yeah. I guess you can’t knock it until you try it.”

A strangled laugh bubbles up in me. What else am I supposed to do? She’s the most confusing combination of innocent, curious, and forthright.

“Goodnight, Bailey.”

She turns away with a gentle salute. “Yes, sir.”

I almost laugh again. Couldn’t sleep before. Probably won’t be sleeping after tonight’s exchange, either.