Beau Pair - Exclusive - Chapter 1

Updated: Nov 10, 2020


Chapter 1 - Beau


The door opens and my breath catches.

I have never, ever in my life seen a man sexier than him. Silver grey hair that stands naturally to attention, piercing blue eyes, snowy stubble, and the most kissable lips one could ever possess.

Great.

Rein it in, Beau. You’re here for a job interview for crying out loud!

“Hi!” the man says.

Gordon. His name is Gordon Davis.

We’d spoken on the phone, and yes, I’d found the raspy, scratchy voice sexy even then, but fuck me if I’d known what a sight the real man would be.

“Please tell me you’re Beaumont,” he adds, the despair clear in his voice.

“The one and only. But call me Beau. Only my mother calls me Beaumont, and she doesn’t even know why,” I say, stretching out my hand to shake his.

His fingers wrap around my palm, the skin soft but the grip firm. A businessman for sure.

“Come on in.” He ushers me inside, and as I pass by him, I get a whiff of his cologne.

Woodsy, strong, and intricate. It makes my nose tingle and my groin take notice.

Jesus, Beau. How well is the interview really going to go if you brandish a boner from the get-go?

Gordon leads me through the hallway, small but decent and minimalistic with only a coat stand and a shoe rack that doubles as a bench, and into the open-plan living room, dining room, and kitchen.

Fuck me, this guy is loaded.

The living room looks like it’s the size of my entire house back home in Salem Springs and has two long black couches, leather if I’m not mistaken, with a dark oak coffee table in the middle. There’s an electric fireplace at the end and a TV hangs over the chimney. The entire floor is marbled with only a small patch covered in a rug underneath the sitting area.

The dining room carries on the theme of the living room with the same dark tones on a six-seater table, and the kitchen is a beast of its own. The kitchen island has a marble top—the same marble as on the floor—an induction cooktop, and a faucet and sink. The cupboards are all lined up on one side, while on the other side there's a floor-to-ceiling window with a backyard view.

It calls to me. The entire house wants me here. The kitchen especially. I can already picture myself making enchiladas and carrying them over to the backyard, which also looks exploration-worthy, and enjoying them with some fresh lemonade.

A little moan escapes me at the mere thought. As if I’m gonna get this job.

“Did you say something?” Gordon asks me, and I quickly shake my distracted mind back to focus.

“Umm, no. I just said, ‘Nice house,’” I reply, and take a seat on one of the dining room chairs while Gordon sits at the other end.

Jeez. This is like a proper interview.

A file folder—black, of course—is already laying in front of him, and he opens it to pull out my resume. He slips a pair of glasses out of his shirt pocket and puts them on, and thank fuck for the table hiding my lower parts because they are having a party down there.

The glasses frame his eyes perfectly and make them pop even more, if that’s even possible. He’s gone from plain, sexy silver fox to sophisticated, sexy silver fox, and I’m so here for it. I love nothing more than a sexy nerd. Bonus points for being older and more experienced.

“So,” he rasps, and his face changes from friendly but distressed man to serious businessman. “It says here you’ve been babysitting since you were thirteen. Is that right?”

His head stays bent over the piece of paper, but his eyes look up at me over the rim of the glasses like blue diamonds calling out to me.

It should be illegal for anyone to have such gorgeous eyes. Just saying.

“Umm, yes. Our neighbors had a baby and they were desperate for some alone time, so I volunteered, and we never looked back.”