“Was Ryan supposed to take you out tonight?” Beau asked, pinning her with that dark stare again.
She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders in a non-committing gesture. “I mean, we’d talked about a date tonight, but I don’t even care about that—”
“I’ll do it.”
Val’s words halted and she stared over at him. “What?”
He shrugged those impossibly wide shoulders, the muscles under the flannel shifting with the movement. “I’ll take you out tonight.”
Val laughed nervously then, glancing at her sisters in shock. “Beau, you don’t want to take me out for a date, especially on Valentine’s Day—”
“Don’t tell me what I want or don’t want, Valentina,” he rumbled darkly, his dark brows pulling low over his eyes. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Look,Beauregard—” Val snapped sourly, using his full name since he’d used hers. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared over at him, muttering, “—I appreciate that you feel this responsibility to take care of us since our dad died but taking me on a Valentine’s date because I got dumped is not part of your job description. And I don’t need your pity date!”
Beau’s eyes darkened and he leaned over the back of the chair until he was less than a foot away. “Responsibility be damned. I’m giving you an excuse to put on whatever sexy dress you want to and flaunt yourself all over this small town, because it will get back to Ryan within two hours what an idiot he was to let you slip through his fingers. He is not worth the bottle of wine or pint of Cherry Garcia you would consume tonight at home by yourself, or the nightmares you’ll have tonight if you watched a scary movie alone. I’ve never once taken a woman out for Valentine’s… so if I didn’t want to, trust me, I wouldn’t.Val.”
He stood, swinging his leg from the chair. He lifted it by the back and set it back down at the table he’d pulled it from earlier and then turned toward them, leaning his hands on the smooth wooden top of their booth table.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
And then he was gone, disappearing behind the counter as a group of teenagers stepped up to order.
Val stared at him for a long time, lunch forgotten, when Willow leaned over and whispered, “It’s probably because I just binge watched all the seasons ofRiverdale, but does he not remind either of you ofSkeet Ulrich?”
CHAPTER 4
Beau Collins watched as the Compton women finished their meals. When they were finished, they brought their dishes to the far side of the counter where his dishwasher Jimmy took them to the back to wash. Noelle and Willow waved as they crossed the polished concrete floor to the door, but Val stopped at the door, looking back at him for just a heartbeat before slipping out into the cold. Through the frosted window, he watched as she hunched her shoulders against the bitterly cold February wind, rushing down the sidewalk towardThree Blossom.
He wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted him to make his offer. He hated everything about this damn holiday; hated all the idiotic, societal bullshit about dating in general.
If it was up to him, he’d completely ignore the stupid candy-store-Hallmark holiday. But specialty holiday themed drinks always brought in more customers, even though he’d rather gargle a hand grenade than dust another hot chocolate with pink and red heart sprinkles.
Aside from the promise he’d made to their father just before he’d died, there had always been something in Val that tugged athim. To see her so despondent, today of all days, wrenched at his heart.
Valentine’s Day had always been Val’s Christmas. Even as a kid she’d saved up all her chore money and purchased carnations from her Aunt Jackie to hand out to her classmates, her family, her teachers. She’d always handmake elaborate Valentine’s Day cards for everyone she could think of. Shit, last year, he’d received a handmade, quilled card—which he’d been informed is the art of rolling tiny bits of paper into elaborate designs—with beautiful hand drawn calligraphy. All that read on the inside was, ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, you were right, boys suck’in that fancy calligraphy. He’d laughed out loud upon opening it and reading it, but his heart had ached, as it was so unlike her.
He’d immediately picked up the phone and called her. She’d answered, her voice wobbling, and then she’d burst into tears. He’d let her cry, and when she’d calmed enough to talk, she told him she and her husband of six years were divorcing, and she hadn’t even told her family yet. A month later, he and Theo, along with Noelle and Willow, had arrived in front of her house with a pickup truck and a U-Haul, and brought her home to Northern Michigan.
He lived in a studio apartment above his coffee shop, and at the top of the stairs there was a small landing. To the left was his apartment, and to the right, a mirror image studio apartment he’d previously been renting out to a college kid. The kid had moved out two weeks prior, and he’d insisted that Val move into it after she’d expressed how mortified she was at having to move back home after a failed marriage at the age of thirty-two.
With Val returning home and Willow just graduating from college, their Aunt Jackie had decided it was high time she retired and handed over the floral shop to the three girls, happily moving herself to Florida to escape the bitterly cold Michigan winters.
Val had seemed to come back into herself upon taking overthe floral shop with her sisters. She was thriving on her own… until the girl with permanent hearts in her eyes had decided to try dating four months ago.
She’s such a damn bleeding heart,he thought ruefully with a shake of his head as he wiped down a newly deserted table. Noelle was tougher, not as easily taken advantage of, and Willow… well, she was simply a stick of dynamite waiting to go off. He rarely worried about those two. But Val… she was kind, sensitive, soft, and so easily heartbroken.
And those damn books she always reads don’t help, he thought grumpily, as he prepared a caramel latte for a customer.How was any normal man supposed to measure up to a six foot seven, winged fae warrior with a schlong the size of a salami capable of doling out a dozen orgasms?
Notthat he would ever admit to having readthosebooks… or any of the other books she’d become captivated with in the last year. But he also stayed up to date with the TV shows that Willow liked best, even if he wanted to gouge out his eyeballs and rupture his eardrums afterwards. He had made sure to watch everyUniversity of Michiganfootball game with Noelle—while obstinately wearing his alma materMichigan State Universityhoodie just to rile her up. And every Wednesday he would take their mother Rachel out for dinner.
All small sacrifices toward his promise to Hank.
The afternoon flew by in a flurry of snow, gaggles of tween girls looking for the Valentine’s White-Hot Chocolate, and Willow, who snuck over for another round of coffee’s around four that afternoon. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head when she requested a triple espresso. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“She’s not getting any more espresso,” he muttered darkly. “She’s going to vibrate out of her skin or stop her heart.”
The little devil even tried to deny that it was for Val. She’d finally given up and ordered regular coffees for all three of themand slunk back to the flower shop next door, with a request from him that she ascertained that she would do. Secretly.
