Page 70 of Loaded

COME ON, BEA. AT LEAST LET ME COME BY.

Why am I asking? I know where she lives. She doesn’t respond, but I don’t need her approval to bang on her door. I take the Volvo again—the XC90 is my least attention-grabbing car, since I left my 4Runner at Mom and Dad’s. It’s not like I’m Jake Priest or anything, but given the current status with the trending video, it would be nice if I wasn’t seen running right over to her house.

When I knock, I expect Jake to answer and yell at me, so it takes me by surprise when Bea yanks the door open. “What?”

“Hey! You answered.”

“I’m not some hotshot with a butler,” she says. “I always answer my own door. You’re mistaking me for Emerson.”

She’s making jokes, so it can’t be that bad. “Look, I’m sure that guy baited you, and I know?—”

“I’m an idiot,” she says. “Given half a chance, I’ll always say the wrong thing.”

“But in this case, everything you said was true.”

“Thank you for not being angry,” she says, “but I know that must have been embarrassing for you, and I’m really sorry.”

“No, what’s embarrassing is that my board is so angry that they want me to dump you.” I run my hand through my hair. “They’re being so stupid and unreasonable about it.”

“We weren’t together in the first place,” she says, “which is what I said to the half a dozen reporters who have tracked down my number.”

“Bea.”

She shrugs. “Your board’s right. You can’t be tied to me, not with this mess I made. It’s only because of a connection between us that it’s even newsworthy.”

“That was the best date I’ve had. . .ever. You had fun, too, I know it.”

“I did,” she says, “but not enough fun to destroy a multimillion dollar company.”

I roll my eyes. “Destroy? It’s not made of paper mâché.”

“I’m not trying to sound arrogant,” she says. “I’m just trying to take responsibility. What I said—it was unguarded, and Easton, I say stuff like that too often. I’m not good at things like this. There’s a reason your board doesn’t want you dating a waitress.”

“Beatrice?” A man behind me is peering around my shoulder.

Bea closes her eyes and mutters, “I should’ve just stayed in bed today.” Then her nostrils flare, and she squares her shoulders. “Easton, it’s time for you to go.”

“You must be Easton Moorland,” the man says. He’s tall, he’s broad-shouldered, and he has a winning smile, for an older man. It’s a smile that has been used alot, a smile that most everyone in New York knows. “How unfortunate to find you here.”

“Why are you here, Grandfather?”

Bea’s grandfather is the governor of New York? Seriously?

“You may not be tapped into social media, but I am, and let me tell you, darling, you aretrending.”

“Easton.” Somehow, she turned my name into a plea. “Later. Okay?”

“Swear you’ll answer when I call, or I’m not leaving,” I say.

She nods. It’s small, but it’s there.

“Good. He’s leaving.” The old man beams. “And as long as you stay away from him, you just took the first step in your life toward making your old man proud.” He’s beaming. “You’re a woman of the people. If we play this right, you could probably even run for office yourself.”

“There’s nothing on earth I want less than that,” Bea says.

I’m chuckling as I walk to my car. For a waitress the board doesn’t want me to date, she sure seems to have some interesting secrets, and I intend to discover every last one of them. If anything, I’m more intrigued than ever.

15

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