Burn for You Page 3

  My heart tumbles to my feet, despite my best intentions to keep it in place.

  “Hey, Jasmine.”

  John gives me a smile. “You’re off the hook, kid. I brought the cavalry.”

  “You can go back to your usual while Layla and I take care of King’s most annoying guests,” Jasmine says, already twisting the knob. “You’re too sweet to be around these guys.”

  Sweet. Punctual. Non-flirty. What every girl wants to be known for. She might as well say: Boring. Boring-er. Boring-est. “Beau, I mean Mr. Montgomery needs two bottles of VOSS.”

  Jasmine’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows raise in surprise. “He’s here?”

  “And Walker.”

  She makes a little noise. “Walker I expected, but the other one. I can’t remember the last time he took advantage of King’s... hospitality.”

  I can only imagine the hospitality he was shown. Not that I care, of course.

  The door to Room Four suddenly opens, and Beau Montgomery walks out, phone to his ear. My jaw drops, because seeing him lounging like a playboy is nothing like seeing him in motion. He’s purposeful and determined. The sleeve of his shirt brushes against my chest, and I get goose bumps everywhere.

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He turns, his gray eyes burning into mine as he ends his call and pockets the phone. “Don’t worry about the water; I have to leave. And I’d prefer it if you didn’t go back in there.”

  More than a little annoyed, I snap, “Can’t get paid if I don’t work.” I can’t help it. Jasmine’s comment, though not an insult, about my sweetness combined with Beau’s insistence I not breathe the same air as his brother and friends makes me irritated as hell.

  Mouth flattening, he digs into his pocket and hands me a few folded-up bills. “Five hundred enough?”

  Holy crap! “Whatever.” I take the money and slide it inside the top portion of my bustier like some old-school hooker. His brows crash together, and I swear his mouth thins even more.

  “Don’t be like that,” he says.

  I tip up my chin. “Like what?”

  His jaw works, as if he’s about to say something, but then he shakes his head. “Do whatever you want, Lisa. I’m through playing hero to females who don’t want to be saved.”

  Astonishment courses through me, but before I can apologize for my rudeness or even say I don’t need saving from anything—except boredom, he strides away.

  “God, baby doll, don’t you have all the luck,” Jasmine says. “Five hundred for less than fifteen minutes is a record.”

  I turn my attention to her, feeling dazed and a little confused. “But I didn’t do anything but take his order.”

  Jasmine laughs. “You’ll have to teach me how to take an order like you did, then.” She winks at John. “It’s always the sweet, quiet ones you have to watch out for, huh?”

  John narrows his eyes at me.

  I hold up my hands. “I swear I didn’t do anything.”

  But my defense only makes Jasmine laugh harder. She goes inside the private room, leaving me with a disapproving John and an empty hallway.

  “You believe me, right?” I do not want to be classified like the other girls. I want the boring rooms, where the most action I’ll see is a drunk dude trying to cop a feel or inflicting me with his worst pick-up line.

  “I think you need to go home,” John says, disappointment shining in his dark eyes. “You don’t have to do what those others girls do, you know.”

  My face burns. “I didn’t do anything, except sit in his lap and—”

  John’s brows rise. “Go home, kid.” He has the authority to tell me what to do when it comes to my schedule, and all I can do is listen or get fired.

  Furious, I stomp away and head to the dressing room to change and wash my face. I can’t believe John told me to go home. I can’t believe he thinks the worst of me. The folded-up bills fall out of my bustier as I lean down to roll off my fishnet stockings.

  They land on the floor, in an accusatory angle.

  Sighing, I plop down on the bench and pick them up. Benjamin Franklin frowns at me. Great, now even inanimate objects think I’m a prostitute.

  A couple of new girls come in the dressing room. They give me a wide berth and knowing smiles.

  “Heard you took it to the next level, Lisa,” one of them coos as she slathers on lip gloss.

  “We expect a full report tomorrow on how to earn that much in ten minutes.” This from a blonde who makes obscene gestures with her hand and mouth at me.

  They all laugh.

  “But I thought you were going to share how you made fifty bucks in less than five minutes out by the dumpster,” I say sweetly.

  There are gasps and mutters—mostly of words like bitch, slut, and whore. Nothing like working with women. It’s a total empowerment and a Rah-Rah sisterhood atmosphere here.

  As they leave, I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m pale as a ghost, the crimson lipstick on my mouth like a smear of blood. Or a scarlet letter A.

  Either way, I need to find a new job. A respectable one, where the most gossip will be about not following the lesson plan.

  Guess I’ll make that call to Meagan’s aunt after all.

  Chapter Three

  Beau

  I rush into Mia’s room. The drive home only took twelve minutes instead of twenty, mostly because I violated about a dozen traffic laws along the way.

  “Is she okay?” I ask, ready to whisk Mia to the emergency room.

  Judith Montgomery, my stepmother for lack of a better term, is standing there, holding my baby girl, and humming. “She’s just fine. A little fever, is all. I already called the nurse hotline and followed her instructions. She said to call back if her temperature rises above 103.”

  “And the cough?”

  Judith gently places Mia into my arms. “Nothing a little steam won’t cure. If she starts coughing again, turn the shower to the hottest setting and—”

  “I remember what to do,” I say softly as I inspect Mia. Her little face is flushed, but her eyes aren’t dull. She smiles sleepily at me, snuggling into the crook of my arm. “Thank you for watching her.”

  “That’s what family’s for,” she says.

  An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. Judith and I are not family. I’m the result of an affair her husband had while married to her. Only, Judith has never treated me any differently than her other sons. But I feel guilty for even being born when I’m in her presence.

  She clears her throat. “Thank you for going out with Walker tonight.”

  I smile. “A fair trade. I babysit your son, and you babysit my—my...” I still can’t say it, because I still don’t know. Paisley remains mum. Worse, she’s seeing Austin again, and we haven’t had sex since before Mia was born. She’s effectively cut me off.

  “My granddaughter,” Judith says firmly. “You know I love babies, Beau, and they can’t help the circumstances of their birth.”

  I eye her. Is that why she’s so nice to me? “I don’t want her growing up like me, wishing thing were different.”

  Judith pats my arm, and then gently smoothes back the little bit of hair on Mia’s head. “Just love her, Beau, and be there for her. Ask for help when you need it, and even when you don’t.”

  I glance down at the baby in my arms in time to watch her eyes flutter close. “What if she’s not mine?”

  Judith sighs. “If you really cared about that, then you would have had a paternity test five months ago.”

  She’s right. I would have, but a large part of me doesn’t want to know. I’m afraid of what I’ll do. I can’t abandon Mia. The sweet girl lying so trustingly in my arms deserves better than what life has already dealt her. And for damn sure, I’ll make that happen.

  “Yeah.” I lay Mia down in her crib, briefly placing my hand against her forehead. She doesn’t feel too hot, but I can’t be too careful. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m not going back to King’s.”

  “O
f course not.”

  As we walk to the front door, Judith gathers her things. “Walker didn’t need a babysitter.”

  “Neither did Mia.” I open the door.

  “But you needed a night out.”

  I run my hand through my hair and open the door. “It’s only been a month.” Though it seems like it’s been years.

  Judith pats my cheek. “You’re a good boy, Beau. Don’t let Paisley take advantage of you.”

  Like her husband, my father, does to her? “She can’t take advantage of me, if I’m the one who’s willing to help.” Besides, there’s no way in hell I’d let Austin touch Mia. So I offer to help every time. Hell, it’s the only time I call or text Paisley now.

  According to Paisley, he’s not interested in Mia like I am. Which pisses me off, because she makes it sound like I’m the one with the problem and not him.

  Judith and I finish saying goodbye. I shut the door and head to the kitchen to grab a beer.

  God knows I need one.

  I pop the top off with a bottle opener and take a long pull. Tonight is an epic failure in terms of going out. I barely talked to Walker or his friends. Mostly because they are annoying, but I knew that going in.

  And I blame myself for getting distracted by Lisa.

  Checking the video on the baby monitor, I make sure Mia’s still sleeping and then I make my way to the living room. I sink into the couch, and turn on the television, clicking through the channels until I give up and turn it off again.

  Taking another drink, I let my head fall back against the pillows. I can’t stop thinking about Lisa, or that hot little number she wore. Or how she felt all pressed up against me, nothing but our hands between us. Her red lips close enough to nibble on.

  I groan. I’ve been celibate for far too long to let a female with a fake name, big tits, and wide-eyed innocence get to me so easily. Though I suspect it’s an act. Hell, I fell for it. Hook. Line. Money in the bustier.

  She’s good. I’ll give her that. There’s something about her that makes me want to protect her. Maybe it’s her eyes, green, gold, and brown swirls of colors that change to fit her mood. Flashing gold when she nervously laughs. Green when our hands touch. Brown when she lies.

  I grimace. Lisa’s a horrible liar.

  We were together for barely twenty minutes, but I felt a connection with her. I still feel it, and it has nothing to do with my past, with sharing secrets, or even who I am. I’m almost one hundred percent sure she didn’t recognize me beyond my last name, not an easy thing to do in racing country. I mean, my face is on a fucking billboard above King’s, promoting Sun Devil Classics- a retro sunglasses line, for God’s sake.

  Only, I don’t have time for connections or sharing anything. All my time belongs to the baby girl sleeping in my house. I’m finished with Paisley, too. Like I told Lisa, I’m done playing hero to females who don’t want to be saved.

  Which is exactly why I’ll never darken King’s again—or at least until Lisa stops working there.

  Mia cries out and I jump to my feet, setting my beer down before rushing to her room. I scoop her up, cradling her close and cursing the fact that I haven’t washed my hands.

  “It’s okay, sweet girl. I’m here. I’m here... Your—I, uh...” Fat tears slide down her cheeks as she blinks up at me. She lets out a shuddering breath and hiccups. Neither one of us has any clue what we’re doing—she’s unsure of me and I’m unsure of my role in her life. But I can’t keep holding her at arm’s length. Mia deserves better.

  Fuck it. I kiss the top of her head and whisper, “Daddy’s here, and I’m never going to leave you.”

  ***

  It’s six a.m., and I’m barely awake. Mia sleeps peacefully on my chest as I lay in bed. Her fever broke hours ago, but I can’t bear to put her back in her crib.

  My phone vibrates, the screen lighting up. It’s Paisley. Finally.

  Keeping one hand on my daughter’s back, I grab and answer it. “So nice of you to finally call me back,” I mutter.

  “I need you, Beau,” Paisley cries into the phone, and my entire body tenses. “I tried to, with pills this time... but I didn’t...But I wanted to.” She’s not making any sense, but I know what she means. She tried to kill herself again.

  With a calmness I don’t remotely feel, I keep my voice soft and try to relax my body. “Where are you, honey?” There’s no need for accusations or screaming, because it will do no good. I’ve already tried a thousand times before.

  “At Charlotte Baptist.”

  Thank God. I let out a breath. “What can I do to help?”

  “Bring my baby to me. I need to see her and you,” Paisley says through her tears. She sniffs. “Please, Beau.”

  Damn it. Paisley never begs. She never says please. I know Paisley has custody of Mia and there’s no formal agreement between the two of us, but I really don’t want to take Mia there. I don’t want her to see Paisley like this, not even as young as she is right now.

  “Do you really think it’s a good idea? I’m happy to bring her to you once you get out,” I say, trying to be reasonable. “You want to be where you’re comfortable and there’s not a ton of people going in and out of the room while you’re getting... healthy.” She’ll never get healthy, not until she admits she has a problem and actively tries to get better. I can’t do it for her.

  In the past, I screamed, I pleaded, and I resorted to threats of telling her family, of telling anyone who would listen and convince her to stop hurting herself.

  There’s a long silence. Not a good sign. It’s the calm before the storm. “That’s why I want you to bring Mia here. I want to say goodbye.”

  My heart kicks against my chest so hard, I’m sure the motion will wake the baby up. “Don’t do this. Mia needs you.”

  “I know she does.” Another long silence. “That’s why I’m checking into Gentle Winds. I need help. I can’t be a good mother to Mia like this, or even a good girlfriend to you, no matter how much I love you both. I’m too fucked up.”

  “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.” There’s nothing else to say. Paisley needs me, and I plan to be there every step of the way, helping her and our daughter. “I still love you,” I blurt, but she’s already ended the call. It doesn’t matter. Words without action are no more than puffs of hot air in the freezing cold.

  I get Mia and myself fed and dressed, and out the door in record time. Luckily, the hospital is only ten minutes away and Mia sucked down a bottle like it was her last meal. Everything is going perfectly.

  “Ready to see Mommy?” I ask Mia as I get her out of the truck. She gives me a smile, and I kiss her forehead. I swear I’m the luckiest man on earth. Mia and I have officially bonded. Paisley not only loves and needs me, but wants to get help.

  I shouldn’t smile, especially in light of what has transpired, but I’m too fucking happy. It won’t be easy. Being with Paisley has never been easy, but we weathered the storm.

  The doors to the front entrance of the hospital open with a quiet whoosh. I check in at the desk, and then head to Paisley’s room, adjusting Mia’s diaper bag on my shoulder. It’s black with pink flowers, not exactly manly, but I don’t give a damn. Besides, the flowers are pretty. Women can’t be the only ones who enjoy aesthetically pleasing patterns, right?

  Walking into Paisley’s room reminds me of the day our daughter was born. My stomach roils a little. It was also the day she told me Mia wasn’t my daughter, at least, might not be my daughter.

  I clear my head of those melancholy thoughts. Today isn’t going to be like that. We’re already headed in the right direction.

  Paisley’s face lights up when she sees us. IVs are hooked into her left arm, but she reaches for Mia anyway. Mia starts to wiggle and babble about her momma.

  “Has she eaten?” Paisley says, burying her face into our daughter’s hair.

  “She had a bottle, but I brought the rest of her breakfast with me.” I reach into the diaper bag and start pulling out sup
plies.

  “It would have been nice if you’d done that before the two of you got here,” she snaps.

  Patience, I remind myself. She’s most likely embarrassed and angry, and is taking it out on me, because I’ve always allowed her to do it. “Mia was anxious to see you,” I softly.

  “She feels a little warm.” Paisley presses a kiss to Mia’s forehead and then glares at me. “Tell me you didn’t bring her to a fucking hospital with a fever.”

  What the hell? “She had a fever and a cough last night, but—”

  Paisley’s expression turns murderous. “You didn’t bother to call me?”

  This time, I glare at her. “Check your damn phone. I called you multiple times.”

  “Blame the mother. Isn’t that always a man’s prerogative? While we’re stuck, y’all just go out—”

  “Hold up.” I take a sustaining breath. “I didn’t come here to fight, but you are really out of line. I’m not blaming you for anything. You are the one with all the accusations, not me. I call you when Mia gets sick, or does something new, because I want a relationship with you. I want us to both be there for Mia. It’s not just about us anymore.”

  Her expression eases a little. “You’re right about that. It’s not about just us. It’s about me, you, Mia, and Austin.”

  Not that asshole again. He never does anything with Mia, at least not to my knowledge. “He’s not here.”

  “Who do you think brought me here?”

  “The same guy who gave you the pills,” I snap.

  Mia lays her head down on Paisley, then grabs a hunk of hair and pulls. Paisley winces. “Careful, baby girl, Mommy likes not having bald spots.” She gently unwraps her hair from Mia’s hand, and then kisses the center of her palm. “Ready for some breakfast?”

  This is why I can’t stay completely mad at Paisley. She’s a good mom, even as fucked up as she is. She loves Mia, and Mia loves her.

  Silently, I unpack all the breakfast items I brought and help snap a bib around Mia’s neck. Immediately, she starts grabbing handfuls of Cheerios and shoving them in her mouth.

  “Hungry little thing,” I say affectionately.