Chapter 144

I spend longer than I care to admit standing in my closet looking at outfit after outfit.

Somewhere exhilarating doesn’t exactly narrow down where we might be going, so I’m left deducing with what I know about Beau. Beau likes bars and clubs and dancing.

A dance club could be exhilarating? He did say I wouldn’t have to walk, but maybe he meant we’d dance instead?

Perhaps club wear is the way to go.

So I shuffle through my closet looking for my most revealing clothes. Near the back, I find a black crop top. In the bottom of my drawers, I have a pair of black short shorts. I change. The crop top is too tight to wear with a bra so I go without.

The shorts are a bit wide around the waist, so I grab a silver chain belt and lace it through the belt loops. Even with the belt, the shorts hang low on my hips, showing off my hipbones.

Looking in the mirror, I do look sexy. It’s revealing as hell. I’m showing more skin than ever, but I can appreciate that it all looks good.

But it doesn’t really look like me.

Maybe Beau would appreciate that. After all, right now, I look more like the kind of girl he would typically bring home.

I guess this is what I’ll wear then. I come out of the closet and head into the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” says Beau in the doorway. Didn’t he say an hour? I check my clock. Yeah, it did take me longer than it should have to pick an outfit, but Beau’s still back ten minutes early.

I look down at myself. I’m not popping out of my top or anything. When I look back at him, it’s with confusion. “Club gear?”

He storms toward me, fire in his eyes. He stops a foot away. “That looks like underwear.”

“Isn’t this what people wear to the club?” I ask.

“What people,” Beau says, and his voice drops low and growly. “This isn’t you.”

The words surprise me. “You don’t like it?”

“Of course I fucking like it,” Beau growls. “It makes me ravenous. And if you were wearing it just for me, I’d eagerly rip it off you. But we’re going out, and that’s not you.”

Shivers run down my spine, and I press my thighs together at the thought of him ripping off my clothes.

Focus, I remind myself. We’re not talking about sex. We’re talking about clothes and going out into public.

“I want you to be comfortable,” Beau says. “Your leg probably still hurts.”

“I want to fit in.”

Beau’s brow furrows. “To hell with fitting in. You just need to be yourself.”

“But if we go to the club –”

“We’re not going to the club,” Beau says. “Even if we were, I’d want you to change. I’d have to go all Alpha to keep the other guys away from you.”

I struggle to imagine Beau going all Alpha for anyone. “I’ll change.”

“Good.”

I go back into the closet, then return again in my usual ripped jeans and a t-shirt.

Beau’s appreciative gaze remains the same as it was when I’d been wearing next to nothing.

“Now you look like you,” he says.

“Not as sexy,” I say.

“Fuck that,” Beau says. “You look sexy as hell. I might still have to go all Alpha before the night’s out.”

I laugh, because that thought is still ridiculous.

“Come on, then.”

I follow Beau through the Pyramid down to the garage where he hands me a helmet and I get behind him on the bike. It’s not as embarrassing as before to wrap my arms around him as he peels the motorcycle forward.

He drives way too fast and reckless, but my adrenaline is pumping hard. I feel free and half want him to drive even more recklessly. Would he do a wheelie if I wanted?

It’s strange, how quickly I’ve come to trust Beau and his ability to keep me safe. Even if we spun out of control, I have no doubts he would move to protect me.

I have no reason to think so, other than instinct. And the fact that he kept me from face planting earlier today. He’d massaged my tense muscles so diligently, so tenderly.

I just doubted that Beau would want me dead. Maybe that was a thought as reckless as his driving.

After all, didn’t Angela warn me of this? Outside of the bedroom, he’s selfish. He’ll never care about anyone but himself.

He’d probably let me become a smear on the highway.

So I don’t ask for a wheelie. I just hold on and keep my head down.

Eventually, we get to a warehouse-type building on the outskirts of the city, down by the docks. It’s an innocuous enough building, with no real signage. But there are people all over. Cars are parked far down the road.

Beau pulls right up front and cuts the engine. The sea of people part around us, giving us room, as I get off the bike and then Beau. He secures the helmets.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“Never been?” Beau smiles. “Good. I’m glad I get to surprise you.”

I can see now why he had been so adamant about my clothing. There are girls with revealing clothing, but they are hounded by seedy looking guys. They don’t seem to mind, though, so more power to them, I guess.

Beau holds out his hand. “Stay near me. Going to be packed as hell in there. I don’t want to lose you.”

I take his offered hand. I don’t particularly want to be lost.

Beau pushes us through the pack of people and we squeeze through the door.

Inside, I’m surprised to find a slew of bleacher seats all circled around a ring in the center. The stands are jam packed with people who all seem to be shouting and cheering.

In the wall, there’s a man behind glass. Above him reads a sign, Place your bets.

“What is this place?” I ask, but my voice is swallowed by the crowd.

I clutch Beau’s hand as tightly as I can. If we get separated in here, it would be hard to find each other again. Beau continues to push through. Eventually, we get to the stairs leading up to the bleacher seats, and we find a pair of open spots to claim.

I exhale in relief as I sit.

There are two men in shorts standing in the ring at the center of the room. A third soon joins them. He looks like a referee? A bell rings, and the two men pounce toward each other. One throws a punch. The other blocks.

“Get him!” screams a woman to my direct right.

The man who blocked the punch surprises the first man with a jab to his ribs. They both jump back, then circle each other. They each seem to be looking for an opening in the other’s stance.

I’m amazed by what I’m seeing. They are fighting but not as warriors. They are doing so for the entertainment of others.

And likely, for money.

And maybe, for the joy of it. They both move like people who enjoy the fight.

I look at Beau. He grins at me.

“Never been to see Amateur Boxing before, Nanny?”