Page 14 of Quid Pro Beau

He’s hovering, still concerned that I’m being hurt.

“Did you want to…” I leave the rest of the question unsaid because I don’t know how to ask. Did you want to feel up my big belly? How about you put your hands on me?

He falls to his knees in front of my chair. His hand reaches out, but he’s hesitant. So I grab it and move it to where my baby is kickboxing my ribs. The second his hand is pressed to the spot… Kick!

Beau flinches, then he looks up at me. Eyes wide, he keeps his hand on my stomach as my baby repeatedly kicks at him. An impossibly sweet, boyish grin spreads across his face.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “You have a baby in there. Moving around and growing. That’s a goddamn miracle, Daisy. You’re a miracle.”

There’s something so earnest and pure in his words that tears spring to my eyes.

Somehow in the movement my tee has ridden up, exposing a swath of my belly, from my navel to the panty line hidden beneath the swell. In this light it seems like the stretch marks marring my skin are illuminated, like they’re fluorescent. I grab at my shirt, trying to cover them.

But Beau’s hand stops my progress. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

“It’s just that I know they’re ugly. And they’re just going to get worse as the baby grows.”

“There’s nothing ugly about you, Little Mama, especially not those. You are so beautiful. Every damn inch of you is beautiful.”

My throat tightens. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” Then he takes my hand and slides it under his shirt, giving me access to his back. His skin is warm, but my fingers meet rough, raised lines—scars that crisscross over his back. Deep and ragged.

I look up at him, not even bothering to hide my tears.

“Foster care wasn’t so kind to me,” he says. “I don’t normally tell people.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I’m not going to tonight. I just wanted you to know that we all have scars. Some more visible than others. You and me, we’re both marked by survival.” he says.

I swallow thickly and nod.

He looks down at my belly again. His hand settles there like it belongs. Like I belong. And I’m just not quite sure what to do about that.

chapter eight

Beau

I’m done pretending there’s not something growing between me and Daisy. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know enough to see that we both feel it.

For the last several nights we’ve met in the kitchen. Having an insomnia buddy is kind of nice. But it’s getting increasingly more difficult to keep my hands off of her. I want to pull her into my lap and kiss the hell out of her. Learn her taste and every curve of her body.

I know that’s not my baby growing inside her, but that’s not how it feels. I feel just as protective over that little life as I do for my Little Mama.

Tonight when I pad out to the kitchen, she’s already in there rummaging through the pantry.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

She jumps and shrieks. When she turns to face me, she’s frowning. “I’m going to have to hang a bell around your neck so you can quit scaring me half to death.”

I just smile at her.

“I’m hungry, if you must know. I’d like a cinnamon roll, but obviously we don’t have any of those.”

“Sit down, Little Mama. I’ve got you.”

She harrumphs but goes and sits at the table.