FRAUD: An Unfit Hero Novel Page 6

  “So, you’re the infamous Beaumont Griffin,” she murmurs just loud enough for me to hear.

  “And you are?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “If you hadn’t been using my best friend nine years ago and were her actual boyfriend, you would know that I’m her best friend, Laurie,” she spits.

  “Ooookay, time for everyone to go now,” Louis announces.

  My gaze leaves this Laurie woman’s face, shifting over her shoulder to meet Hutton’s eyes. Except, I don’t meet her gaze. She’s looking at the ground and I notice her shoulders shake.

  “Everyone out,” I shout.

  Laurie jumps and without a word she spins on her heels and marches out of the room. The rest of the people start to file out, but when Hutton moves, my heart jumps into my throat at the idea of her walking away from me.

  “Except, Hutton, you stay,” I bark, gruffer than I intend.

  “Think I’ll hang around as well,” Ford drawls.

  I snort. “You’ve done enough hangin’,” I snap.

  Ford’s gaze meets mine, he shakes his head once, staring at me. Whatever he sees he must be okay with. He takes a step back but doesn’t leave immediately.

  “Hutton, I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he murmurs.

  “She won’t,” I say.

  Ford lets out a low whistle then wisely doesn’t say anything else before he turns and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Look at me, Hutton,” I demand softly.

  So slowly that it physically hurts, she lifts her head, her face lifting to meet mine. Her green eyes are watery, rimmed in red and there’s black shit rolling down her cheeks from her makeup.

  “What’re doin’ here, darlin’ girl?” I rasp.

  Her body shivers as her plump lips part slightly. “I didn’t know it was you,” she whispers. “If I would have known, I wouldn’t have come,” she admits.

  “You fuckin’ Ford?” I grind out.

  Her eyes narrow, her lips purse, causing my cock to harden. Goddamn, she’s gorgeous. Dipping my chin, I notice that her nipples are pebbled beneath her dress. What I wouldn’t give to taste them right now, bet their taste alone is a better high than a whole bottle of whiskey could ever be.

  “How dare you even ask,” she hisses.

  I smirk, taking a step toward her, then another, until I’m close enough to wrap my hand around her waist and tug her against my chest.

  Dipping my chin, I inhale her sweet scent. Her eyes widen as her head tilts back so that those green eyes can look up into mine.

  “Askin’ because I don’t typically fuck women my friends are fuckin’. But for you, I don’t know if I would even care,” I admit.

  She places her hands on my chest. I expect her to attempt to push me away, but she doesn’t, instead her fingers fist my shirt.

  “You’re a jerk,” she states.

  I dip my chin. “It’s true.”

  “I hate you,” she breathes.

  “That’s a lie.”

  “You hurt me.”

  “Another truth,” I exhale.

  Then before I know what’s happening, my mouth is against hers. I don’t know who kisses who first, but I know who is going to control it. Lifting my hand, I twist my fingers in her hair and tilt her head to the side. Sliding my tongue into her warm mouth, I’m sent straight to fucking heaven as I consume her.

  She tastes better than I remembered and I’ve thought about her kisses for a long fucking time throughout my life.

  She jerks her head away from me, but I don’t let her go. Holding her close to me, I dip my chin and place my forehead against hers.

  “Goddamn, Hutton. You been practicin’, babe. Don’t remember you kissin’ that good back in the day,” I breathe.

  She pushes away from me again, this time I allow her to take a step back. Her breath is coming out in pants, her nipples so goddamn hard and tempting that it is taking all of my willpower not to strip her right here, right now.

  “You’re a complete jerk, Beaumont,” she seethes.

  “Yeah,” I snort.

  Without another word, she spins around and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I allow it. I do because tomorrow morning I’m going to need a haircut and she’s the only person I’m going to allow to touch my hair.

  Fuck me.

  I want Hutton Baker.

  She’s the one that got away and she’s practically been hand-delivered to me. I’m going to accept the challenge that is her.

  HUTTON

  “Where is Laurie? Where’s my ride?” I snottily demand as I step out of Beaumont’s dressing room, my breath coming out in short puffs.

  Ford’s eyes meet mine and I watch him smirk. Obviously, he thinks all of this is just as funny as can be. I don’t. Not a single bit. I’m lightheaded, fool-hearted, and turned on. I hate that I want him and that I allowed him to kiss me, that I kissed him back—that I want him.

  “I’ll take you home,” Ford announces. I shake my head, looking around the hall for Laurie or any of the other girls. “They all left,” Ford says.

  Gulping, I lift my gaze to his. “Ford…”

  He shakes his head, pushing off of the wall he’d been leaning against, taking a step toward me. “Hutton, if I thought any part of you were available, I’d slide right in there. I know it ain’t.”

  “It isn’t?” I breathe.

  He snorts. “Figured it out all those years ago, honey. I get it, probably more than you even realize.” I blink up at him, completely confused by his words. His lips tip into a smirk. “You’re cute as fuck, Hutton. But you’re also so into Beau that it wouldn’t be fair to either of us or him to pretend otherwise.”

  I open my mouth to tell him that he’s wrong, to deny his claim, but even I can’t pretend that I’m not into Beaumont. I can’t pretend that our relationship didn’t mark me in a way that even after nine years it still feels like a fresh wound. I’m just not sure that I’m into him the way that Ford thinks, or I’m just in need of closure.

  “Let’s get you home,” he murmurs.

  Sitting next to him in his truck, I bite the inside of my cheek as he drives me home. My mind isn’t on Ford, even though he’s silently sitting next to me, just like he was six years ago and in the same position. Instead, it’s on Beaumont. No matter how many years pass, I still want him.

  It’s the lack of closure. I nod to myself, my decision made. I’m going to talk to him, make sure we both get the closure that we need. I’m not going to allow him to kiss me anymore. I’m going to demand he goes away, leaves me alone, and that we both move on with our lives.

  I snort, I don’t know why I would tell him to move on with his life, I think that he has without issue. I’ve seen him with movie stars, models, and other artists.

  He’s moved on just fine, it’s just me who hasn’t. Pathetic little shy, introverted, awkward Hutton who hasn’t been able to get over him in the past nine years.

  “Let me walk you in,” Ford offers.

  I blink, looking to the left and seeing that he’s pulled up in front of my house. I had completely zoned the entire time he drove from the bar to my place. Shaking my head, I reach for the truck door handle.

  “I’m okay, thank you though.” I smile.

  He reaches toward me, his warm, calloused hand wrapping around my forearm. “Whatever you’re strugglin’ with, Hutton, it’ll work out.”

  I shake my head, my eyes shifting down to my lap, then lifting to meet his. “How? How do you get over someone that you only spent a year with almost a decade ago? He should not affect me the way that he does. What is wrong with me?”

  Ford dips his chin, his eyes focused on mine and never leaving. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you, honey. Having feelings for someone and getting over them, there’s no timestamp on that.”

  “You speak from experience?” I guess.

  He nods once. “Wyatt’s been there, I’ve been there, hell I think we all have at one ti
me or another. Ride this out with him, maybe nothing will come of it, maybe somethin’ good will happen. I know that he’s been in a real bad place for a long time and hiding it from everyone, includin’ himself.”

  My heart softens slightly at Ford’s words. I don’t know what Beaumont has been up to the past decade, but I do know that my heart still hurts from the way that he used me.

  At the least, I deserve an apology from him. Maybe then I’ll feel like I can move on with my love life. Maybe I’ll be able to get over him. Though, with as long as it’s been, maybe there’s just no getting over the first love of your life.

  Chapter Seven

  HUTTON

  Bringing my coffee to my lips, I take a huge gulp, trying to ignore the way it burns going down my throat. I need something to wake me up, and if it’s hot coffee scalding my esophagus, then so be it.

  Powering on my laptop, I sit down at my small desk and open my calendar so that I can look at my appointments for the day. My morning is open, but as soon as one o’clock comes around, I’m going to be slammed.

  Biting the corner of my lip, I wonder how I’m going to get through this morning with no clients. I was hoping for a distraction. I tossed and turned all night long, my mind filled with nothing but thoughts, memories, and even fantasies about Beaumont.

  Frowning, I write down my schedule for the rest of the day and decide to pull each of my client’s charts and gather their color formulas. The task will keep me busy for a whole ten minutes, at the most.

  The bell above the door rings and I glance up to see Laurie waltzing through, her large glasses covering her eyes and half of her face. She has a coffee in one hand and her purse hanging off of her other arm.

  “Don’t talk to me,” she groans.

  “Hungover?”

  “Ssshh.”

  I can’t help but giggle at her. She was so drunk last night, the way she confronted Beaumont, while at the time wasn’t funny, afterward I thought it was hilarious. He deserved to have an even bigger tongue lashing, but it was still awesome.

  She tugs her glasses off, throwing them on the top of her station before she sinks down in her chair. I watch as she spins around to look at me.

  “I don’t remember most of the night, except I remember getting really mad at Beaumont and being a smart ass,” she groans.

  “You were. It was pretty awesome.” I grin.

  She shakes her head with a whimper as she lifts her hand and cups her forehead. “I was plastered. Why did I drink so much?”

  “Because it was Beaumont up there, after nine years of me being whatever I am about him, there he was.”

  She pokes out her bottom lip, nodding slowly, then takes another sip of her coffee. “It was like he hurt me too, watching you all these years.”

  I let out a sigh, lifting my own coffee to my lips and taking a drink. I hate that my life affects hers so much, but then again, if a man hurt her the way Beaumont did me, if she felt so deeply about someone the way that I did him, I would feel the same way.

  I’m about to tell her that, my mouth opening to say the words when the bell to the shop door sounds. Turning toward the doorway, my lips parted to speak, I freeze at the sight in front of me.

  “Holy shit,” Laurie breathes.

  Beaumont is standing in the middle of the entryway of my shop, right there in the middle of Baker’s Square. Holy shit is right, but I don’t say that. Blinking, I snap my lips closed and press them together, rolling them a couple of times, standing from my desk and walking around before I gather the courage to speak.

  “How can I help you?” I ask.

  I try to sound cold, but it doesn’t work. I can’t turn off the customer service person, or the southern hospitality that my MeeMaw engrained in me. She’d give me a disapproving frown and a stern talking to if I was ever blatantly rude to anyone, even if that person hurt me the way that Beaumont has.

  “Need a cut, darlin’ girl,” he murmurs with a shy grin playing on his perfectly shaped lips.

  Lifting a brow, I turn my attention over to Laurie. “You have time for a cut this morning?” I ask her.

  She opens her mouth, but isn’t able to speak before Beaumont does. He makes a tsking sound, then I hear his boots against my vinyl wood flooring. “Don’t want Laurie touchin’ my hair, no offense,” he says.

  I turn to him just in time to see him dip his chin toward her in that perfectly delicious southern gentleman style. God, why does he have to be so handsome, so seemingly courteous and chivalrous? Why?

  “Only want your hands on my hair, Hutton,” he murmurs.

  The sound goes straight to my belly, and shifts between my thighs. The words actually heat me from the inside out. I don’t know how he does that, but he does, and his gaze never breaks my own while he does it, too.

  “Beaumont,” I whisper.

  There’s a noise and I hear Laurie move, then her high heels walk down the small hall to the back, presumably to the small room that we use to mix our color. Beaumont takes another step toward me, then another until he’s almost touching me. If I inhale a deep enough breath, I think my breasts would actually touch his belly.

  I press my lips together, again, when he lifts his hand and cups my cheek with his palm. “I’d like you to cut my hair, Hutton,” he murmurs.

  “Beau…”

  He shakes his head. “We should talk, but for now, please cut my hair.”

  His words are barely above a whisper and I try not to think about them sounding the exact same way when he would slide inside of me, whispering words about how good I felt. It reminds me of the past, a past that should be long forgotten, but still feels like yesterday, especially right now.

  Clearing my throat, I take a step back. “Go ahead and have a seat in my chair,” I instruct, dipping my chin toward my station.

  His lips twitch, then turn into a full-on grin. He looks like he’s a victor and I wonder if he isn’t, because I’m smiling instead of scowling. I’m wrapping the cape around his neck, holding my breath as my fingers intentionally touch his warm skin more often than needed.

  Slowly, I eventually lift my gaze to meet his in the mirror. He’s smiling at me, but it’s not his lips or his white straight teeth that have me in awe.

  It’s his eyes.

  Those dark eyes are focused on me and if I could guess at what they’re trying to tell me, I could interpret that maybe there’s an apology written in them. Inhaling a quick breath, I hold it for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t, instead he clears his throat and ends the moment.

  BEAUMONT

  I want to take her in my arms, strip her bare and show her just what she does to me. I may never be able to trust a woman again, but that doesn’t mean that my mother and Chelle have taken everything from me. Hutton is indeed special. I’ve never forgotten her, no matter who has been in my life and in my bed.

  “What do you want?” she asks.

  I blink, surprised that she’s asking me that, but then I realize that she wants to know what I want to do with my hair. Shaking off the moment of surprise and excitement, I grin and lock my gaze with hers.

  “Shorten the sides please, keep the top longer, maybe just trim it up.”

  Hutton nods, then I watch as she begins to gather her tools, her eyes never meeting mine again.

  “Noticed the name of the shop, it’s yours,” I point out, trying to get her to talk.

  She hums as she lifts the bottle of water up and begins to spray my hair. “I opened it a few years ago. Laurie is my only employee, it works for us.” She shrugs.

  “I like it. Proud of you, Hutton,” I murmur.

  “Seems you’ve been a bit busier than me,” she points out.

  Clearing my throat, I wait for her gaze to find mine again before I speak. “Nothin’s as good as people make it out to be in the media, darlin’ girl. Trust me.”

  Her eyes round, then she nods. “Never doubted you’d be some famous rock star.” She grins. “Knew you were so
mething the first time I saw you at the Bluebonnet Festival.”

  I snort, remembering the first time I laid eyes on her. She was this pretty little thing I saw from across the way. Nervous, shy, gorgeous. Nothing has changed, not really. Nothing except for the fact that I had her in the palm of my hand and I let her go.

  “Have dinner with me tonight?”

  “How long are you in town for?” she whispers.

  I grimace at her question. “A few days, but Hutton, I got a place here. This is home,” I lamely attempt to explain.

  She nods, her fingers working quickly at trimming my hair. She doesn’t say anything immediately and I think that she’s just going to ignore my invitation. Then she lets out a sigh.

  “Okay. I need closure,” she mumbles so low that I don’t think that she meant for me to hear her.

  “Pick you up at your place?” I ask.

  Her eyes find mine, and those green orbs fucking hold me hostage. She nods once, her tongue peeking out to taste her lips. “Yeah, my place is good. Around eight?”

  My lips turn up into a small smile. “I’ll be there, write down your address?”

  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and she tilts her head to the side. “Big famous rock star can’t find out where I live in a postage stamp sized town?” she teases.

  “Could if you wanted me to,” I point out. “Though just thinking about asking Ford where you live makes me want to strangle my best friend.”

  Her playful smile drops and her eyes widen. “Nothing happened between me and Ford, Beau, not ever.”

  “Not ever?” I ask as something ugly slithers up my spine.

  She shakes her head. “Not the first time, not last night.”

  I don’t ask her what the first time means, because after I get my hair cut, I‘m going to fucking ask him. We don’t say anything else as she finishes my trim. When she’s done, she washes my hair, then blow dries, styles and puts some shit in it to keep it in place.