A Perfect Dilemma, Page 2

  “You’re saving my bacon right now, Ethan. Family sticks together.”

  “I’ll go give him a hand. Not that he needs it, but it sounds like you have your hands full. Want me to take the little guy for you?”

  I hesitated even though I knew handling Duel was going to get tricky now, since I had some serious cooking to do.

  “All right,” I said reluctantly. “But call your sister and let her know you have him. Thanks for the hand.”

  “Family sticks together,” he said as I unbuckled him out of the complicated contraption, handing him to Ethan. After Duel was situated, Ethan left the kitchen.

  #

  Braxton

  Fuck.

  I stood stock-still at the edge of the country club’s pool deck, staring at the bikini-clad tease testing the water with the perfectly polished toes of her right foot. River Pearl wasn’t self-conscious about her body. I remembered when I caught her and her two friends on the bayou wearing something just as itsy bitsy. I was sixteen and so fucking jacked up on teenage hormones I could have dragged her away caveman style and done her right then and there. How I walked away from her that night had everything to do with my daddy and being an Outlaw. The denial of her for all these years was like a deep, dark ache that only drifted in the shadows of my heart.

  Tilting my head slightly to one side, I sized her up from a different angle, not that it made any difference. She was perfect from every angle, absolutely perfect. Geezzz-us. She was a mouthwatering, ball-tightening complication, and annoyed me no end. Besides, I should be getting my ass and my kettle into the country club’s kitchen.

  I shouldn’t be standing here ogling.

  Memories sucked.

  Especially the ones crowding me when I looked at her.

  Everything had changed with that kiss at the barbeque about a month ago, the passion of her mouth, the softness as she pressed against me…it wouldn’t leave me alone. I was hungry to feel it again. But River Pearl was the one woman in Suttontowne I wouldn’t allow myself have.

  I had made a pact with myself when I’d been too young to understand what true temptation was. I’d imagined merely telling myself I would never subject any woman to the Outlaw name—never put them in a position to be humiliated like the townspeople had humiliated my ma—would be enough. I’d also figured it only meant no long term commitments for me.

  I had been young and dumb.

  I chased a lot of skirts.

  But there was one skirt who was strictly, now and forever, off limits.

  Standing next to me was the country club’s lackey from this morning, rattling on about how I would be held personally responsible for any mishaps or screw-ups, of which there had better be absolutely none, zero, or I was going to get my ass handed to me on a platter. The stakes were high, the douche said. He had the nerve to get close to my kettle and breathe deep.

  “Back off the goods.”

  Off he went again about how no Outlaw should be allowed to even stand on the grounds of, let alone inside, the country club. I scowled at him. He was lucky I was holding a steaming pot in my hands.

  Guys dreamed of getting to watch the kind of show playing out by the pool. They fantasized about it, and there were hundreds—probably thousands—of slack-jawed idiots who would play her lapdog game. They’d probably go down in flames just looking at her.

  I was going up in flames.

  Her Royal Majesty, Princess River Pearl Sutton.

  Fuck one hundred times over.

  She stepped into the pool, bent over—sweet geezus—and splashed some water on her arms.

  I shifted my hips, trying to ease the pain of my dick against my fly.

  Yeah. Right. Don’t think about her that way.

  And it pissed me off.

  Because I wanted to think about her that way.

  I didn’t need this.

  “What are you waiting for?” the lackey said. Then he followed my gaze and smirked. “That’s why you agreed to do this, right? Out of your league, Outlaw. You should have your mind on lunch because that belle will eat your lunch.”

  Boone put his hand on my arm. It’s a good thing he did, because this pot of gumbo had been about to go toppling over his head.

  “He ain’t worth it.”

  I shoved the pot at Boone, and he took it quickly, before I changed my mind. I walked away while the fuckwit was still talking. “Get that to the kitchen. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Brax…this isn’t going to help.”

  “Fuck off, Boone. Just do it.”

  He turned and started to herd the mouthpiece into the club, muttering under his breath. I made my way to the gate, opened it and slipped through. I stopped near her chair, slipping my thumbs into the belt loops of my jeans to keep my hands at my sides and off River Pearl.

  Gray string bikini.

  Mesh.

  See through.

  She was the most self-possessed, natural goddamned prick tease I’d ever laid eyes on.

  I would take bets the suit might be short on fabric but cost more than my entire wardrobe.

  And I couldn’t take my eyes off it or the curves it did absolutely nothing to conceal—which wasn’t doing a damn thing to improve my mood.

  I leaned my back against the white wall protecting the pool inhabitants from the golf course.

  River had immersed herself all the way, her sleek brown hair floating out behind her. I was tortured by the memory of how it had felt against my skin.

  My whole body throbbed as she swam to the end of the pool and stepped out. Water sluiced down tanned skin, sleek, toned muscles and breathtaking beauty. The outline of her hard, dusky nipples pressed against the barely-there mesh. She didn’t hesitate when she saw me.

  I reached over and snagged her towel and held it out to her by my forefinger.

  She smiled as only she could, and took it. “Are you my own personal towel boy?” She asked, her husky voice wrapping around me like a wisp of mist.

  “Been shopping in Milan again?”

  “Did you read about me in Vogue? Or were you actually interested in the articles? ‘Dress Cheap & Chic,’ ‘Become a Redhead’…or was it ‘How to Match Bags and Shoes’?”

  “‘Multitasking Summer Wardrobe: 21 Hot Pieces to Wear Every Which Way,’ actually. I couldn’t possibly be caught dead in the same outfit twice,” I said, deadpan.

  She tilted her head, her laugh like sunshine. “No, you’re much too gorgeous as you are, with all that tough, tall, dark and silent thing you got going there.”

  “Aw, shucks,” I said without any inflection in my voice.

  She dropped the towel and, with a quick flick of her wrist, she gathered up her hair and did this deft twist thing until it was piled on top of her head, leaving her delicate neck and shoulders bare. She slipped on a pair of diamond-studded Ray-Bans.

  “What do you want, Braxton?”

  You beneath me, all over me, me deep inside you.

  I pushed off the wall and walked over to her and stood as close to her as I dared.

  “I heard you were looking for me.”

  “I was. I am. I have something to ask you.”

  “Then ask.”

  “No, not here.”

  My gut twisted. Anger flared, but it was no barrier. I hadn’t hit the bag today because of my schedule, but it was where I was headed the minute I was done with this shindig. No matter how hard I tried, it still hurt. This debutante still had the power to hurt me. I casually cocked my hip as if her words hadn’t scored a direct hit. “That’s right. I forgot. The Princess only toys with the commoners in the shadows.”

  The blue in her eyes ignited. “No, I think you have it wrong,” she hissed. “It’s the playboy who likes to play the game of roulette. Spin the barrel. Oh, lookie here, a fiery redhead. Another spin, a brunette—and how lucky could he get?—third spin is a charm with a blonde. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not simply a blonde.”

  That was for sure. She was the blonde
, or had been. I liked her natural color much, much better. And she was primed and loaded with a shot straight to my heart. Drawing River Pearl close was easy as pie. Where I fought tooth and nail was trying to keep her at a distance.

  There could be absolutely no future for us. I was resolved on that point. She was one heart I didn’t want to break, and I secretly worried it wouldn’t be her heart that got broken. It would be her whole life, thrown to the trash heap in one long, freezing fall from princess to outcast. Outlaw. “Tell you what, sweet thang. Why don’t you stay on your side of the tracks and I’ll stay on mine?”

  Chapter Two

  River Pearl

  Why?

  Why did I always have to pick a fight with Braxton? And of course he would have to take my statement the wrong way.

  I couldn’t take the full blame. Braxton was always angry and had that damn chip on his shoulder. I always wanted to knock it off and find out who he really was. Damn his sexy hide. What was he doing at the country club anyway?

  After a quick swim, I headed home, frustrated because I still hadn’t talked to him about what I needed his help with. It was only the very end of July, summer was winding down. My speech, to be given at the Founder’s Day Festival at the end of August, was fast approaching.

  I hadn’t written it yet. I hadn’t even researched it yet. I wanted Braxton’s help. I was determined to get it, too. Thanks to those journals I’d discovered in the library at the beginning of the summer, my interest in the Colonel and Duel was piqued…and if I was being completely honest with myself, I really wanted to shake up my family.

  After changing for the luncheon my momma had pressured me into hosting, I drove back to the country club. It was bad enough she’d roped me into having my coming-out ball this summer, too. She had picked the dress out for me. Ugh. White, hideous and absolutely not my style. She insisted the hosting of the Daughters of the Confederacy Luncheon would be an asset to my application for the Miss Louisiana pageant she wanted me to enter, but I was dragging my feet on the application. It seemed she was never satisfied. It wasn’t enough to be an international model who could have my pick of jobs. Nothing was ever enough. I felt trapped, muffled behind an image, and as if my life wasn’t quite my own, that the woman on those slick magazine pages was nothing but a shiny, glossy shell.

  “Miz Sutton, a word please,”

  Maizy White sidled up to me and tucked her arm through mine. She was the cotton-haired widow of one of the bankers in Lafayette. For the life of me I couldn’t remember his first name. She was very fond of charities, something my family participated in because that’s what we did. Donate money and sit on our high horses. Oh, and look down our noses. Let’s not forget that part.

  “Yes, Mrs. White?”

  “Oh, I think we’ve known each other long enough, you can call me Maizy. You’re a grown woman now.” She leaned in. “I have an opportunity for you to make a real difference, young lady. There’s a school in Lafayette I would love to have you visit. They are in desperate need of a champion, and I’m sure you would be the perfect person.”

  “A champion, huh? Well, let me set down my crown and take off my white gloves, roll up the sleeves of my ball gown.”

  She chuckled. “You are a wit, sugar. Why don’t you come by the house, and we’ll visit the school together?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said dutifully, hoping my genuine affection for her showed in my smile.

  “Oh, I wanted to tell you the watercolor you did for me was snatched up by a gallery owner who was visiting my house. He insisted he wanted it to display. He might get in touch with you. Speaking of art, there’s an outfit calling themselves Art Explosion offering classes.” She dug in her purse, then pulled out a brochure. “You might want to check it out.”

  “Oh, that is so thoughtful of you. I would love to take a class.”

  “Take a class? No, sugar, I thought more that you could teach a class.”

  I took the brochure, my heart jumping at the thought of teaching an art class. I was pretty much self-taught. My momma frowned on it, but I did it anyway. I never got to paint and draw enough. It had been and still was my first love.

  After Maizy was distracted by another possible patron, I engaged in the small talk required of me, but my mind kept sliding over to Braxton. I really needed to corner him and ask him to help me with my speech.

  Everything looked wonderful, and all the tables were decked out, but Jeff looked…worried. He’d promised me everything would go smoothly.

  As I was settling myself at my table, Savannah Hawkins plopped down next to me with a huge sigh.

  “Why did you have to invite me to this thing? God, I hate this contrived deb stuff.”

  “You and me both, sweetie, but my momma is a force of nature. I’m afraid you’re also going to be roped into my coming-out as one of my junior debs.”

  “Oh, dammit, River. Not that. I have to wear one of those…dresses and put my hair up. Can’t you get me out of it?”

  “Not a chance. Misery loves company.”

  She sighed. “All right. I’ll do it, but you’ll owe me. Maybe we can sneak out to the bayou and get drunk.” She giggled.

  “Maybe. I know a good place for it. So buck up, at least you don’t have to deliver the ‘Southern Lady in the Twenty-First Century’ speech today.”

  Savannah gave her own momma a sidelong glance. “She hates that I work for Boone Outlaw, ‘sweating in the sun,’ but I don’t care. I love it so much. Boone is simply the best boss. Sweet, funny, and so easy on the eyes.”

  “Speaking of easy on the eyes, how’s Gray Lancaster doing? You succumbed to his charms yet?”

  “He is easy on the eyes, and he’s a good guy. He truly is. He’s got the right pedigree and comes from a wealthy family. My momma is pushing us together, of course. It’s not that he hasn’t been going through all the motions, but…I just don’t know. He’s off to boot camp and then officer training in a few days. I’m terrified he’s going to propose.”

  “What would you say?”

  “That I’m too young and not ready. I feel so restless, River. Like I don’t know what to do with myself. Unsure about where I should go or what I should do with my life.” She trailed off and her eyes went glassy. I turned to look over my shoulder.

  “Who is that?” she breathed.

  He was enough to stop a woman dead in her tracks. Jaw-drop sexy. Tall, dark, shaggy hair, boyish features with a Roman nose and a rangy build, his eyes a startling green. He looked up and pinned Savannah with a look. The kind of look a man gives a woman who blindsides him with her beauty. That was Savannah, blonde, green eyes, and the warmest smile in Suttontowne.

  He held Savannah’s gaze for a moment, then yanked his eyes away to start setting up the bar.

  “Wow,” Savannah said her voice crackling like she’d touched a live wire. “That guy’s so hot, he dehydrates me. I need a drink.”

  I chuckled. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble.”

  She waggled her brows. “I’m merely going to wet my whistle.”

  “That isn’t the only thing that is going to get wet,” I murmured, and she smirked, shooting me a bad-girl look over her shoulder before she walked over to him.

  He moved with a kind of natural and predatory grace, as if he was…ready for combat.

  He watched Savannah sashay toward him, and I felt the girl’s frustration when her momma skillfully cut her off. She threw the guy a look, and he bit his lip and shook his head.

  I sighed. I could relate to what Savannah had said. I felt like I was in the same boat. There was plenty of work lined up for me back in New York City, starting with Fashion Week. I was excited to be booked into Verity’s show, to be wearing her amazing clothing, but going back to modeling…I just didn’t know. Every time I imagined myself back there, walking the runway, I felt a deep, hollow place open within me.

  Like Savannah, I was restless. Modeling held no challenge. It was hard work and long hours, often either
cold, wet, or in some other way uncomfortable, but it didn’t tax me, didn’t force me to stretch myself or grow. It also didn’t fulfill me.

  It wasn’t like I felt I should end world hunger or cure cancer. Those things were important, for sure, and I guessed I wanted to make a difference, too. The high-end and high-priced fashion world suited…who? The rich and famous, so they could look good while they went about their amazing everyday lives? Was that what I was about?

  I had been born into privilege. I was a debutante and a socialite, had been a beauty queen and cheerleader, and hadn’t had to work at being popular in high school. Everything I knew and everything I was had been defined by my association to the founder of Suttontowne, Colonel Beauregard Sutton. My daddy never let us forget it. We were expected to live up to our long-ago ancestor, and were judged with a very particular measuring stick.

  One of my brothers had buckled under the yoke. Chase, the oldest, the heir, actually, had thrown it all away and disappeared into the mysterious and murky bayou. The second oldest of us, Jake, was not only burdened with Chase’s responsibilities, but every aspect of his life, like mine, was not really his own.

  I watched Jake go from being an easygoing, laid-back guy to an uptight jerk I scarcely recognized. There were times when I wanted to smack him. Maybe the pressure was what had changed him. It might have made a difference to me if he would open up about it. But he always had a sarcastic comeback, an impenetrable wall, a cement barrier.

  Our days of being carefree and rambunctious kids were long, long gone.

  Savannah came back to the table and plopped back down next to me, giving her momma the evil eye. “I think she can read my mind.”

  “That’s a truly scary thought,” I said.

  She looked at me and we burst out laughing.

  My own momma gave me her patented comport-yourself-like-a-lady look. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her.

  The luncheon was beginning, and my momma glided to the podium to start the proceedings. My speech wasn’t until after the luncheon. The waiters, who were now serving the salad course, looked familiar, but I couldn’t place them.