Page 2 of Beau and the Beast

And when they meet the sun will set

upon his final day.

But mercy for the man with none

he still can be released:

Light can lift his shadowed soul,

when beauty frees the beast.

Chapter One

2017

Kickbacks seemedto be the most crowded bar in all of New Whitby and Beau was glad for it that night.

Beau’s gut had told him that he ought to choose somewhere very public to stage their breakup.

His boyfriend of ten months would neverhithim—it wasn’t at all like that—but Lincoln was prone to drama when reality rubbed up against his ego like sandpaper on an overinflated party balloon.

“What do you mean,see other people?” Lincoln asked, apparently unfazed as he sipped a heady beer. “You saying you want an open relationship, Beau?”

“No. I’m saying I want a relationship with someone else.”

Beau watched as his words sank in and Lincoln’s handsome face fell. He went from cocky to confused to sad… right back to cocky over the course of ten seconds.

“So, there’s someone else?” Lincoln asked, an eyebrow raised. “Who is he?”

“There’s not,” Beau said—and he was telling the truth. He hadn’t dated anyone or even beeninterestedin anyone but Lincoln for most of the last year.

His soon-to-be ex-boyfriend snorted. “Then what’s the problem, babe?”

Lincoln slid an arm around his waist, as if the touch could convince Beau that he was making a mistake. And yes, itwasa little tempting to just stay in the holding pattern they’d established. Lincoln’s strong arm around Beau’s narrow middle felt right and comforting—made him feel small and cared for in the way that he craved most.

But he’d prepared himself for this. Beau fought the urge to lean into Lincoln and stayed where he was on his barstool, posture perfect.

“I want to date someone who I have a future with,” Beau said. “And I don’t see a future with you.”

“Is this about getting married? Because I told you babe, you, me, and the courthouse any time you want. I just need more time to—”

“No, Lincoln. That’s not it. If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say no.”

“Then I don’t get it,” he said with a sneer that was still somehow attractive. Maybemoreattractive than his smile, Beau realized.

“We don’t have anything in common and we don’t have anything to talk about,” Beau said.

“Opposites attract,” Lincoln said with a shrug. He was still acting casual—and maybe he didn’t understand, yet, that Beau was resolute in this decision.

“To a point, yeah,” Beau said, “but I need something more than attraction if I’m going to spend the rest of my life with someone.”

A lifetime with Lincoln would mean a lifetime of watching college sports, a lifetime of cheering Lincoln on at drunken amateur kickball games, a lifetime of pretending that beer pong was fun and acting like there was nothing on Beau’s mind other than music videos and whatever action movie he’d queued up on Netflix for the night. Of acting like he wasn’t hurt when he realized that Lincoln hadn’t listened to a word he’d said when Beau told him about his day working at the newspaper, or the thought he’d had for the book he wanted to write.

None of that was particularlyawfulfor Beau. He could do worse than Lincoln. But the details didn’t amount to a life he was excited about, either.

“You’re a great guy, Lincoln—I’m serious—but you don’t listen to me when I talk and, quite frankly, I don’t think I’ve listened to you in a long time, either.”

Lincoln’s smile was still placid. “What’s that Elvis song? ‘A Little Less Conversation?’”

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