The night air is cool against your bare legs as you wait in Beau’s trailer, wrapped in his old t-shirt, anticipation thrumming through you. When you hear a car approach, you grin, expecting him.

But when you swing open the door, you freeze.

Carla, his ex-wife, stands at the bottom of the steps, looking you up and down with an unreadable expression. Beside her, Emily, his sixteen-year-old daughter, blinks at you, then your lack of pants.

Oh. Shit.

Silence stretches, thick and suffocating. Carla exhales sharply. “Of course.”

Before you can stammer out some kind of explanation, the rumble of a truck cuts through the tension. Then Beau’s voice, easy and teasing—completely unaware.

“Darlin’, I hope you didn’t start without me—”

He stops dead, eyes flicking between you, Carla and Emily.

He sighs, rubbing his jaw. “Well… hell.”