Healing Beau (The Brothers of Beauford Bend Book 6) by Alicia Hunter Pace

Author:Alicia Hunter Pace [Pace, Alicia Hunter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crimson Romance
Published: 2015-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Numb. Frozen. Dead. Any of those things would have been preferable to how Christian was feeling. As it was, there was a weed eater with razor blades attached whizzing around in her gut.

Was there no end to the hell that was today? She had always been so good at playing it cool when Beau was with other women—and she should have been good, Grand Champion, Olympic Gold good because she’d had plenty of practice. But there was something about standing there, as Beau’s baby grew inside her, watching him hold hands with another woman. And not just any other woman. Oh, no. Her Royal Majesty Mary Charles, Queen of the Prom, no less. It was too much. She’d thought she was over that prom business. Maybe she had been. She’d brought it on herself. But hadn’t she brought everything on herself?

She entered the front door of Firefly Hall and stood in the middle of the foyer. She was in her own home, but there was no retreat—not to her office where that music box that Beau had given her sat on her desk, not to the main parlor where they had spent so much time sitting in front of the fire, and certainly not upstairs where they’d made love. No. Not made love. Had sex. Had sex and made a baby.

The lady’s salon—that’s where she’d go. It was a tiny jewel of a room tucked behind the music room that her mother had been partial to for reading, doing needlepoint, or entertaining a friend or two. Though the room was pretty, Christian had never liked it much. There were too many fragile, precious little things for a tall, awkward girl to break. Technically, it was open to guests, but nobody ever got that far with the main parlor, the music room, and the library in between.

The house was quiet. Though there would be a full house tomorrow, there were only three guests right now. Allie, one of the assistant innkeepers was around somewhere, but the cleaning staff had already left for the day.

Or so she thought. Emma Ruth came around the corner.

“Christian?”

Emma Ruth always did that—said her name like a question, as if she hadn’t been there the day Christian came home from the hospital and every day since.

Christian paused with her hand on the doorknob of the salon. “You’re still here?”

“No, baby. I went on home and died. This is my ghost.” She put her hands on her hips. “Of course I’m still here. Those young college girls you’ve got hired can’t dust for nothing. I have to go behind them.”

“No you don’t, Emma Ruth. They answer to you. You can make them do it right, like you always made me.” Even though they’d always had staff, Christian’s parents had insisted that she clean up after herself and keep her room clean. “You used to say to me, ‘You call that making a bed? Little Missy, you get in there and lick your calf over.’”

“But you know how to make a bed now, don’t you? You fixing to go in Miss Willa’s salon? You never go in there.

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