Beautifully Used (The Beaumont Brothers Book 2) Read online

  “Take my word for it.”

  “Come on, Gabrielle. Open the fucking door.”

  I stood up and dried my face on the towel hanging on the back of the door then pulled the door open. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

  Not waiting for an invitation, he stepped into the room and looked around. The room was still dark since I hadn’t bothered with any of the lights. A couple seconds later, lightning struck out again, giving the room a momentary glow, and I flinched as the crack of thunder quickly followed.

  He walked over and turned on a small lamp that rested on the table beside the bed before he sat down on the edge of the mattress, lifting a couple of the pillows and tossing them to the other side.

  “Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” I said and watched him look around as though he were looking for something. I realized I was wringing my hands together, so I stuck them in the pockets of my shorts. He had a shirt on, at least. So I was safe there. I don’t know why his nakedness affected me so much.

  “Where are they?”

  “What?” His question took me by surprise.

  “Where are they?” he repeated a little louder.

  “Where are what?” I asked, completely puzzled as to what he was talking about.

  “You know what.”

  “No. I don’t. What is it you want?”

  “I don’t want anything. I want to know where they are?”

  “Again, where are what?”

  “The fucking drugs.”

  “What?”

  “The drugs you’re on. Where are you hiding them?”

  “I don’t have any drugs. Seriously, you think I’m on drugs? Why would you think I had drugs?’

  “There’s something up, whatever it is, it’s making you act weird.”

  “I’m not on drugs.”

  “Well.” He stood. “Gabrielle, something just happened out there in the hallway and you didn’t seem like yourself.”

  “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. You went somewhere. You know it and I know it. You spilled a milkshake all over both of us and then it was like you disappeared and some scared little girl replaced you.”

  I leaned against the doorframe, stalling. I didn’t know what to say to him. He walked over to me and took my hands in his. “Look. You don’t want to talk about it, fine. I get it. It’s none of my business. All I want to know is that you’re okay because a few minutes ago, you definitely weren’t okay.”

  “I’m okay.” I thought quickly of something to explain my weird behavior. “I was testing out the way I thought one of my characters might react in a story I’m writing. So see? No reason for concern.”

  Brodie made some huffing sound, and side stepped around me, stopping in the middle of the doorway, then turned toward me. “Well, that sounds like one hell of a story. I look forward to reading it someday.”

  He would? “You would?” I found myself asking aloud. The idea of him reading my book seemed so … surreal.

  He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I never pictured you as a reader. I mean a guy who likes to read novels. I mean … I’m sure you read.” Now I was babbling, but at least we were talking about something besides what had happened, which I wasn’t entirely sure about myself, so there was really no way I could explain it to Brodie, or anyone for that matter.

  “I read. Mostly Stephen King, Tom Clancy, or Michael Connelly. Horror and mysteries mostly. From the way you were acting, your story sounds like it might fall into the horror genre. Is that what you’re writing? Horror? Because you sure scared the hell out of me.”

  “Sorry. A little on the horror side, it’s mostly a romance, but with a very dark edge. It’s a stand-alone, but the main character is one that I had in my other novel.” I wasn’t lying about all that. I was toying with a new story like that. One I actually started writing the other night.

  “A romantic horror story. Sounds intriguing. You have another novel?”

  “Yeah. I accepted a contract with a publisher a few days before I came here. I told Lena about it this morning, but I told her not to mention it to anyone.”

  “That’s really cool. Congratulations. But why did you tell her not to tell anyone?”

  “I wasn’t sure if I wanted anyone to know. I was thinking of using a pen name.”

  “Oh. Why don’t you want anyone to know you wrote it?”

  “Let’s just say it has some stuff in it that I don’t want certain people to read.”

  “That makes sense. I guess.”

  “I can’t believe you thought I was on drugs.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “But you accused me of being on drugs and hiding them.”

  “I had to ask. You were acting very strange. We should still celebrate. About the book.” He smiled, but from the way his smile hadn’t reached his eyes, I didn’t think he bought my explanation. Regardless, I was grateful that he didn’t pressure me for any more information.

  Chapter 13

  Brodie

  Gabrielle may be writing a story, but there was no way she’d been acting out a character’s response in the hallway with me. If she had been, she was one hell of an actress, academy award worthy, in fact. I should have suggested she give up the writing to become an actor. I suppose I should try to give her the benefit of the doubt, but it sure seemed like something was very wrong. For real.

  I walked into the kitchen and found Jackson doing the old drinking out of the milk carton thing our mother always yelled at us for. “Hey, nobody wants your stinking germs in their milk,” I said, smacking the back of his head as I walked by.

  He eyed me over the top of the carton and continued to drink. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smacked his lips. He crushed the carton until it became flat before tossing it into the trash. “It was the end of the carton.”

  Rufus wagged his tail twice but didn’t move, not even when I stepped over him on my way to the refrigerator. He was a lazy dog most of the time, except for that episode with Lena, the day he tried to save her life. He’d been quick to come to her rescue. That was something we’d all been surprised about with our good ol’ dog.

  “Good thing. I don’t think the women in this house would have liked your backwash,” I said, unable to hide the negative mood behind my tone. I opened the fridge and took out a beer, popped the top and guzzled half before stopping.

  “What’s eating you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Something.”

  “Nope.”

  “Are we going to continue this one word at a time conversation for long? Because if we are, I’m gonna need a beer.”

  “Better have a glass of water first. I don’t have first-hand experience, but I’m not too sure a beer will settle very well with the milk you just drank.”

  Jackson nodded. “You might be right.” He walked to the cupboard, grabbed a glass and headed to the fridge, filling the container to the rim with cold, filtered water from the spout. Then he drank down the entire contents. “So, what’s the deal?”

  “Grab your beer. Rufus, come on boy, let’s go get some fresh air.” If there was one thing that got Rufus excited, it was the prospect of being outside sniffing around. Bloodhounds were naturals at tracking, and the first thing he did when he got outside was put his nose to the ground. I watched him as he sniffed his way toward the back of the property, following the trail of some squirrel no doubt. The raccoons don’t come around anymore now that they know Rufus is here. When he was a puppy, they’d come around and try to steal his food in the middle of the night. Now that Rufus was full-grown and ate his food quickly, they’d stopped coming.

  I walked to the middle of the yard, stopped, and took another swig of the beer I held as another bolt of lightning cracked, but not as bright as before. A few seconds later, thunder boomed in the distance. The storm was heading south. I glanced around the yard, dimly lit by the sin
gle porch light. “The grass needs cutting,” I mumbled.

  “The gardeners were here a few days ago.”

  “Maybe they should lower the blades on their mowers then,” I suggested. “The grass always grows twice as fast in the summer months.” My eyes fell upon the old hammock our uncle had tied up between the two oak trees. I pointed my finger at it. “The netting on that needs to be replaced before your wedding.”

  “So now we’re talking about things that need to be done around here. Okay. At least we’ve graduated from one-word sentences. I’m well aware of what needs to be done.”

  “Gabrielle.” Her name flowed past my lips with a heavy breath.

  “What about her?”

  “How much do you know about her?”

  “Not much. Just things Lena has told me. She started singing in Weezer’s band several months before Lena left it. They’d become close in those months. Gabby attempted to keep in touch, but apparently Troy never let Lena know she’d tried. Why? Has she done something wrong?”

  “No. Nothing like that. Nothing wrong. Just … strange.”

  “As in?”

  I glanced back at the house. Not wanting anyone, especially Lena, to hear what I had to say. “A few minutes ago, I was coming down the hall. I’d just gotten out of the shower, was towel drying my hair and hadn’t been looking where I was going. I smacked into Gabrielle.” I recounted the whole story about how Gabrielle spilled the milkshake and then became all weird, apologizing and sounding like a scared little girl. “I’m telling you Jackson, she wasn’t herself. The way she stared at me, blotting the sticky stuff off my chest and stomach, saying, ‘Please don’t be mad, I promise I’ll clean it up, please don’t make me,’ like I was somebody else and was going to punish her in some weird way.”

  “Make her do what?”

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t say. She just ran from me into her room and locked the door, or blocked it, because it wouldn’t open when I tried to check on her. My first thought was that she was on drugs or something, but when she finally let me in, I could tell she’d been crying. When I asked her what was going on, she came up with some lame excuse about acting out a character for a story she’s writing.”

  “A story?”

  “Yeah. Apparently she’s getting a book published and writing another one.”

  “Wow. That’s fantastic. But you think she was lying about the whole character thing?”

  “Yeah. I’m positive.”

  “Should I have Lena talk to her?”

  “No. Let’s just keep it between us. I was only wondering if Lena had ever mentioned anything about Gabrielle’s past to you.”

  “Nothing weird anyway.”

  “Well, I think I’ll go pick up a bottle of bubbly to celebrate the book. Maybe that will make her feel better.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Oh. Something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. This is none of my business, but why have you been home so much lately?”

  “You’re right. It is none of your business.” Jackson knew me too well. He’d never buy the bucket of shit I was about to lay on him. But I didn’t want him getting all brotherly on me and start talking about Beth. He knew how much she’d affected my life. “I figured it was the least I could do since we have a houseguest and I didn’t think it was right to leave her alone knowing you and Lena would probably be busy with each other. New love and all.”

  Jackson smirked. “Oh. And here I thought it was because you liked her.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up there, big brother. She’s made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with me that way.”

  “So you’ve tried.”

  “Long time ago. Last year, but I think we’ve come to a mutual understanding now.”

  “Which is?”

  “She hates me.”

  “What’d you do, stick your tongue down her throat without asking?”

  I shrugged.

  Chapter 14

  Gabrielle

  I sat in the middle of the bed, laptop open, finishing the last paragraph of the second chapter of the new story when I heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” I said, half expecting it to be Brodie again, a little disappointed that it wasn’t. The more I got to know him, the more I was beginning to like him. His concerned reaction to my bizarre behavior earlier was … well, sort of gallant. He could have just shrugged it off and left me alone, which is what I’d expected from him, but he acted like he genuinely cared. I wasn’t very good at lying, and I have a pretty good feeling he caught on.

  “Hey.” Lena bounded into the room, bouncing on the bed beside me. “What are you writing?”

  “The beginnings of a new book.”

  “Cool. Very cool indeed. Can you take a break?”

  “Sure.”

  She stood and put her hand out for me to take. “Come with me.”

  “Okay.” I giggled.

  “Wait.”

  “Why?”

  She went to the closet and opened the door. The few clothes I had hung in the middle looking pathetic, but then Lena slipped open the other door, revealing some men’s clothes. “Jackson put some of his things in here when he made room for mine in his closet. Here we go,” she said turning around holding a blue and gold striped tie. “Let’s put this on.”

  “What for”

  She laughed. “Because. There’s a surprise, and I think you should be blindfolded for it.”

  “I really don’t think …” I began, but my protests were shushed, and I found myself letting her secure the tie around my head.

  “There. Can you see anything?”

  “No.” My voice sounded every bit as timid as I felt. She giggled as she took my hand and led me out of the bedroom. I could tell by which way we turned that we were heading toward the living room. When we stopped walking, I heard mumbling from across the room. Then another shush.

  “Okay. You can lower the blindfold now.”

  I did and opened my eyes to see Jackson, Brodie and Rufus. Rufus wore one of those pointy little party hats decorated with balloons and streamers with the elastic under his big jowls looking absolutely adorable while Brodie held a bottle of champagne in his hand, a ridiculous grin plastered on his handsome face.

  “Congratulations!” Brodie said.

  I’m positive my eyes revealed the bewilderment I felt as I stood staring at the four of them.

  “The book, silly. Congratulations on becoming a published author,” Lena informed, rushing to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

  “That’s a very notable accomplishment, Gabby. You should be very proud, and we’re all proud of you. Congrats.” Jackson added, also giving me a hug.

  “Well, I’m not published yet, just in contract,” I corrected.

  “You will be,” Lena said with great confidence.

  A vase overflowing with bright yellow daffodils and pink gladiolus sitting on the table caught my eye. “The flowers were Brodie’s idea,” Lena said.

  I looked at Brodie and he shrugged. “They’re from the garden. They don’t get viewed as much out there. I thought they’d be a nice touch.”

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you, Brodie.” Even though he made excuses for his efforts, the gesture was still very sweet. No one had ever given me flowers of any sort before. So what if he didn’t buy them. Not everything wonderful is store bought. These flowers meant more because they came not only from his hands, but also through them.

  “Let’s pop that cork,” Jackson said.

  Chapter 15

  Brodie

  The rest of the week before the wedding flew by in a blur as we all worked our tails off getting everything ready for the big day. Jackson had the gardeners come at the crack of dawn the day before the wedding so the place would look good, which gave us the rest of the day to set up without them underfoot. That night we all went out to dinner, including our mother who’d insisted we needed a rehearsal dinner, because it was tradition. Mom and Lena, as well as Gabrielle, hit it off
immediately, which I knew would be the case. My mom was as easy going as apple pie, always delightful and always made you feel like you were home.

  It was wedding day and I walked into Jackson’s room to grab my tux.

  “How do I look?” Jackson stood in front of the mirror admiring himself in the black tux. The wedding was about to take place. The backyard buzzed with guests milling around drinking and talking. Soft music flowed through the wireless speakers I’d splurged on just for the wedding. Chairs were set up in rows with an aisle of heavy white paper positioned down the center for Lena to walk on toward Jackson, who would be standing at the end under the bridal arch decorated with white and pink sprays of miniature roses and baby’s breath. Tons of baby’s breath, as I’d spent all day yesterday helping Gabrielle place them on it and my fingers were now numb from twisting the wire around the arbor. It looked awesome by the time we were finished though.

  The rest of the flowers arrived about two hours ago, and Gabrielle and I had just finished placing them around and decorating the tables with the vases and ribbons as well as those pearls I’d insisted on having.

  I eyed Jackson, scrutinizing every detail. The silver bowtie around his neck drooped a little to the right. “You look like a penguin, and you look like you’re about to get married and are actually happy about it, crooked tie and all,” I said as the door to the room opened a crack.

  “Boys?” Our mother peeked around the door before stepping all the way in. She never fully rushed into our rooms anymore. Something Jackson and I both appreciated. Once she was in, she stopped and stared at Jackson before wrapping her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. Tears welled in her soft blue eyes. Stepping back from him, she let her hands drop to the sides of the light blue sheer layered gown she wore. I had to admit, our mom looked amazing. She’d scooped her shoulder length brown hair up into some sort of bun with a few small strands curled down her neck, exposing the blue topaz teardrops hanging from her ears that my dad had given her years ago. “My, Jackson. You look so handsome. Do you need help with that tie?” Not waiting for an answer, she walked to him and proceeded to fix the bow so it sat straight.