“Mason, this is Natalie,” Beau says. “Natalie, this is my brother.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

Mason furrows his brow over his already squinty eyes. “Natalie.” He nods sharply. “Why don’t you go get a beer out of the fridge and come tell me what a girl like you is doing hangin’ out with my brother?”

“I lost a bet,” I say, following Beau straight through the living room.

“No doubt,” Mason calls after us. “When you get sick of him, I’ll be here.”

“Left your headlights on,” Beau calls back.

We don’t go to the kitchen, and instead head down the unlit hall toward Beau’s bedroom. He crouches in the corner between his bed and the Holy Credenza, twisting on the lamp sitting on the floor. I stand in the doorway, chest heavy, as I watch the sharp lines of muscle shift across Beau’s back under his shirt. He sits back on the bed and says, “You gonna come in?”

I close the door behind me and sit beside him, staring into the browns and greens and golds of his eyes before my gaze travels down over his neck and shoulders, his chest and stomach, his legs. I look back up and he leans forward over me, his hair falling against my face, his mouth hovering over mine. Slowly, he brings his hand to my cheek. “Hey.”

I cover his hand with mine. “Hey.”

Beau shifts closer to me and gently tips my chin up so we’re breathing into one another, our chests expanding to press against each other with each inhalation. I close my eyes, and his mouth trails down to the hollow of my throat, his tongue brushing my skin. “Beau,” I barely whisper.

He lays me back against the bed and lies over me, his hand skimming down to my hip. “Beau,” I say again into his mouth. His bottom lip catches my top for an instant, making him smile.

“Natalie,” he whispers back.

I lift my fingers up to his neck, and he shudders under my touch. He turns his mouth into my palm and kisses it gently, and my hand slips down to curl around the collar of his T-shirt as he lowers himself until our bodies are aligned, warm against one another, our mouths barely touching. Every space between us aches. Every part of him feels warm and magnetic over me.

We’re both breathing heavily, and I run my lips over his, parting them and leaving another space between our open mouths. “Say my name again,” he says, faintly smiling.

“Beau.” He kisses me. Deeply, softly, warmly. My hands slide up his back as I lift myself closer to him.

“You feel so good,” he says against my ear. I pull his belt loops closer to me, and he groans. I can’t think clearly, and I’m fighting an urge to whisper that I love him. The words replay in my mind as he kisses me more fiercely, and I don’t know if it’s a habit from making out with Matt or if I really do love Beau Wilkes already, but I know I don’t want to run. I know when I’m with him, I want to hold back all the darkness for him, like I feel he does for me.

“Natalie,” Beau murmurs into my hair, his mouth moving down to burrow into my collarbone. “I want you.”

A door slams shut somewhere in the house, and I sit bolt upright, my head colliding with Beau’s. He swears and clutches his head.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I say, clamping a hand over his. He shakes his head and looks over his shoulder to his door, through which we can hear voices. “Who is it?”

Apart from the stern lines between his eyebrows, his expression is wiped clean. “I think it’s my mom.”

He stands up, pulling his rumpled shirt back down over his stomach before running his hands through his hair and smoothing out his face.

“Beau!” a shrill voice calls from down the hall.

He looks over at me apologetically.

“It’s fine,” I say, standing and smoothing my tank top and hair. The corner of his mouth tweaks up, and he crosses toward me, pulling my hips against his. He kisses me on the mouth and then the forehead before leading me into the hallway. We step into the living room, and the woman on the far side of the couch squeals.

“Hey, baby,” she says with a sloppy grin, holding her arms out for a hug. She’s thin with bleached-blond curls and leathery, overly tan skin, dressed in jeans, cowgirl boots, and a tight denim jacket.

Beau looks between her and the burly, bald man standing behind her. “What’re you doin’ here?” he says to his mom.

She glances at Mason on the couch then back to Beau. “That any way to talk to your mama?”

“What’s he doin’ here?” Beau tips his head toward the man, who snakes an arm around Beau’s mom’s waist.

“Tell him, Darlene.”

She holds her left hand up in front of her chest and brandishes a diamond ring. “Bill and I got back together, and—well, baby, we’re married!”

Beau stares at her blankly, and Mason takes a long sip of beer, eyes fixed on the coffee table he has his feet up on. This is when Darlene notices me, leaning around Beau to get a good look at me, her lips pursed. “Hi there,” she says to me, then turns to Beau. “Beau, baby, why don’t you be a gentlemen and take your friend home. It’s time we celebrate, as a family.”

Beau stalks right past her to the front door without a word, and I hurry after him, turning back to say, hastily, “Nice to meet you all,” before chasing him down the steps and to the edge of the moonlit cornfield. He has both hands twisted through his hair, and he’s breathing heavily.

I touch his shoulder and he spins around. “That guy’s scum,” he spits. “What the hell is she thinking, gettin’ back with him?”

“I’m sorry,” I say helplessly.

He drags his hands down his face. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

When we get back to the top of my cul-de-sac, Beau’s still fuming silently. I wonder what happened between him and his mom, or him and Bill, to make him this upset. “Are you going to be okay going back there?” I say softly.

“I’m not goin’ back there.”

“Where are you going?”

He shrugs. “I’ll sleep in my truck.”

I pull his face toward me, and he nestles against the space between my neck and shoulder. “Come inside,” I say. “We can sleep in my closet.”

He tightens his arms around my middle. “I won’t sleep if I’m layin’ next to you, Natalie.”