Page 3 of Coulda

Colt squeezed her fingers and plotted how to convince Harper that they were meant to be together.

* * *

Amber

Amber climbed into the back of Beau’s flashy convertible, despite Maisie’s protests. “I need to think through a new cheer. I’m so tired of the old ones and basketball season is gearing up. You guys sit in the front and talk.”

She watched Maisie slide into the soft leather seat and try to disappear from view. When they’d been kids, whose family made more money hadn’t been important. As they’d gotten older, her sweet friend had excelled in academics, wearing the worn second- or third-hand clothing that her family could afford. It didn’t make any difference to her friends, but the judgmental people in town hadn’t ever let her forget just how poor her family was. Amber hadn’t ever seen Maisie angry until Beau had bought her a winter coat with a month of his allowance.

“Take it back!” Maisie demanded, shoving the soft fabric jacket back at her seventh-grade friend, who waited to see her reaction to his gift.

“Don’t you like the color? They had pink, too, but I thought you’d like the blue better,” Beau had offered, his expression revealing his confusion.

"I don't want your charity.”

“It’s not charity. It’s a present, Maisie. I saw it in the store and liked it. I thought you would, too,” he protested. “I thought it would match your eyes.”

“Stop looking at my eyes, Beau. Stop being sorry for me. I’m plenty warm,” Maisie protested, visibly shivering in the cold January wind.

“Let’s go inside and talk. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just wanted to take care of you,” Beau whispered softly.

“I’m headed home. Take that back to the store. They’ll give you a refund,” Maisie ordered.

“I’ll walk you home,” Beau answered.

When they’d disappeared from Amber’s view, he’d still carried the jacket, but his arm had wrapped around her waist to share his heat and block the wind. He’d walked her home every day until his father had given him a sports car for his birthday. Then Beau had driven her home despite her protests.

Amber stifled a laugh. She could still remember him driving by her side as Maisie stubbornly walked on the busy highway her brilliant friend traversed each day to get to school. She sobered, remembering Beau had shared that he’d almost gotten hit by a semi coming over a hill behind him when he’d inched forward next to Maisie. Only then had Maisie climbed into the car and allowed him to drive her the rest of the way home.

The two were perfect together. Both were brilliant. Maisie already had a full ride scholarship for an impressive university recognized by its letters alone. Beau was waiting to hear from the Ivy League schools. Watching Beau reach over the console to take Maisie’s hand, Amber wondered how they’d survive without each other.

The two were so good together. Maisie’s super intelligence didn’t threaten Beau in the least. His thought processes could keep up with hers, at least for a while. Amber drummed her fingers on the fine leather and wondered if Beau would ever make his move to use carnal activities to distract Maisie from memorizing complex formulas. She’d intercepted Maisie’s longing looks at him when Beau wasn’t watching, and his aimed at Maisie. She wondered how long it would take for Maisie to admit she was interested in nonintellectual interactions.

* * *

“Sparky!”Jack Murphy called as the group walked into the packed bar. The crowd parted for the stout, affable owner as he stretched his arms wide to scoop up his daughter.

“Dad, please!” Amber protested, pushing at his chest. Everyone knew she’d given up trying to get him to stop using her childhood nickname, spawned by her fiery red hair. When he set her on her feet, she relented and kissed his cheek.

“What a run, young Colt!” Jack held out his hand to shake the athlete’s hand before turning to offer it again to Beau. “I didn’t miss who fired that bomb through the rushers to land as softly as a hummingbird in Colt’s hands.”

“Thanks, Mr. Murphy,” Beau answered respectfully as he shook the older man’s hand.

Amber watched her friend lean forward to hear the soft words the bar owner shared. She knew her father warned him privately about the legal letter Jack had received from Beau’s congressman father, requesting that the high schooler not be allowed in the bar again. She moved closer to eavesdrop.

“It’s okay. I’ll deal with my father. I’m sorry he bothered you,” Beau answered, with steel straightening his spine.

“He doesn’t scare me much,” Jack confided. “He’d lose all these votes if he closed the place down.”

Beau’s gaze met Amber’s as her father rushed off to speak to other customers.

Sorry!she mouthed. Amber regretted not telling him of the missive delivered by courier after their last visit to the bar. Not that she thought it would surprise him or change his desire to hang out at Murphy’s with the group. She was just sorry she hadn’t alerted him so he wouldn’t be caught off guard.

He just shrugged it off. Amber knew his father’s insistence on presenting a sparkling clear profile was not something new to Beau. She suspected Beau’s interaction with their diverse group had created problems for years. It made her proud of him. Beau didn’t bow down to his father’s demands. He loved his friends as much as they loved him.

A familiar figure approached, and she completely lost track of her thoughts.Rio. Is there a more gorgeous man on the face of the earth?She’d been infatuated with him since her dad had hired him—first as an honorary big brother who was always around and now as the captivating man who sent shivers down her spine.

Women flocked into the bar to flirt with the handsome bartender. Her dad said that was good for business. More women attracted more men and sold more alcohol and food.

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