Southern Seducer: A Best Friends to Lovers Romance

by Jessica Peterson

  “What kind of stuff?”

  His eyes narrow, flashing with heat. “Stuff that ain’t gonna be all that quiet.”

  He’s right. My mom, the way my boobs are burning now—it’s not the right time.

  “Okay.”

  It still sucks when he kisses me one last time—quick, scruffy, and warm—and steps back.

  That’s when my eyes catch on movement in the window beside the door.

  Speaking of Mom.

  “Mom?” I say, my eyes going wide. “Oh my God, are you watching us?”

  She’s peeking through the curtains. When I call her name, she does this little shrug thing, eyebrows popping. A silent “maybe” that really means Yes, I was definitely intruding on your private moment, and no, I’m not sorry about it.

  Another figure appears in the window beside her. Beau and I both lean forward to get a better look.

  “Larry?” Beau asks. “Is that you?”

  Larry, aka 1995 Robert Redford, smiles and waves.

  “What the hell is happening?” I ask. “Are Larry and my mom—”

  “Hanging out? Yep.” Beau waves back. “Probably doing more than that, judging by the way Larry’s smiling.”

  “Please. Please don’t go there. I mean, I want my mom to—ew, do that. But I don’t need to hear about it.”

  “Totally valid.”

  I motion for Mom to leave us alone. With one last pop of her eyebrows, she and Larry disappear, making the curtain dance against the window.

  Sighing, I say, “Sorry about that.”

  Beau laughs, the sound deep and masculine, and I about die on the spot. “It’s all good. Glad we stopped when we did. How weird would it be if your mama caught me suckin’ on your neck?”

  “About as weird as us catching her and Larry hanging out together doing God knows what.”

  “Maybe he lured her in.”

  “Ha.”

  “Used his rod to—”

  “Do not finish that thought.”

  I look at Beau. He looks back. We’re both grinning.

  He slides his hands into his front pockets and sighs a long, low breath. “It’s not right to ask you to bear with me while I work through my shit. I’m asking anyway. You’re my best friend, Annabel, but goddamn, I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.” His eyes move over my face, vulnerability written all over his: brows curved upward, mouth swollen. “Please. Bear with me.”

  “Of course.”

  He steps forward and puts his hand on my cheek again, arcing a thumb over my skin. I can’t read his expression now. Clouds are moving across his eyes, making him look troubled. Dark.

  Hot as hell.

  I get the feeling he doesn’t know what to say.

  So I say it for him, what he needs to hear.

  “I’m not asking for anything beyond what you’re willing to give me. I don’t need promises of forever. Hell, I had a baby by myself in my mid-thirties. If anyone doesn’t need a ring and rainbows, it’s me. I just need you. Whatever that looks like. Fly fishing, pasta making. Sex.”

  “Slipped that last one in there.”

  I grin. “Subtle, I know. Take all the time you need.”

  I grab his hand and give it a quick squeeze, and then I go inside, still shaking from the kiss that branded my mouth, my mind.

  Every part of me is his now, which could be a big fucking problem. I’m not all that sure he’ll ever give any part of himself to me.

  It’ll be another blow to my self-confidence. I’ll never forget what Ryan said to me when things went downhill in our marriage. I need more than you’re capable of giving. You’re just…you. And, well, I’m not sure that’s enough.

  You’re just you. Coming from a man who I thought would be my forever. My future.

  Did he ever really love me? Because the way Beau looks at me, especially since I’ve been on the farm, is worlds sweeter than any look Ryan ever sent in my direction.

  My marriage didn’t last long, two years from start to finish, and I understand now that Ryan saw me as some kind of trophy. Half of this power couple he’d envisioned. He admired me for my ambition, which I liked, but the further he got in his career, the more obsessed he became with appearances. As his sense of entitlement grew, the spark we had—sexual and otherwise—faded. His attitude grossed me out, even as it broke my heart. And I just didn’t feel valued as a person.

  But Beau? Beau makes me feel special. And not for what I can bring to the table. Just for being myself.

  Maybe I don’t need Beau’s forever. But deep down, I know I want more than just the bulge in his pants.

  What if that’s all he’s willing to give?

  Chapter Twenty

  Annabel

  I wake with a start.

  Sunlight, thin but there, streams through the windows on either side of the fireplace.

  My heart takes a nosedive.

  Ohmygod ohmygod, my baby, is she dead?

  Grabbing the monitor off my bedside table, I see that Maisie is snoozing away in her crib. Like the disbelieving idiot I am, I give the monitor a shake. It must be broken. There’s no way this kid is still sleeping at—I check my phone—6:17 AM.

  I leap out of bed and burst into Maisie’s room, breathless, only to see that she is indeed in her crib, and that she is indeed breathing and still asleep.

  My boobs smart, reminding me that I haven’t nursed her since ten last night. What do I do? Should I wake her? Leave her and pump?

  A whole new dilemma.

  But hell, I’ll take it. I just slept for longer than four hours straight for the first time in more than four months. Longer, if you count the last weeks of pregnancy when I wasn’t sleeping all that much either.

  Ducking into Mom’s room, I confirm that Maisie didn’t wake up once during the night.

  I don’t feel like death as I sip my coffee while pumping on the couch.

  In fact, I feel pretty damn great. Relatively speaking. Months of sleep deprivation aren’t going to be cured by one night of solid sleep, but it’s a start.

  Checking in with work, I shoot a few quick messages to our HR guy and my boss, Matt. Everything’s looking good for my return in April.

  I confirm an appointment with my therapist for tomorrow afternoon.

  I finish my coffee when it’s still hot. I even get to poop in peace.

  Best. Morning. Ever.

  The cherry on top? The way my body is still ringing with the memory of last night’s kiss.

  I’m not sure where that kiss leaves us, but I am sure I want a repeat of yesterday. All of it. The laughter, the food, and yes, the kiss.

  As I laid in bed last night struggling to fall asleep, I thought about what sex would be like with Beau. And I decided that, even though I want more than just a hookup from Beau, maybe it’s a good thing to have my first time post-baby with someone I can trust. Someone I know inside and out, who won’t judge me for being a little awkward and a lot scared.

  Still waiting on Maisie to wake up, I grab my phone and call my girlfriends back in Charlotte to catch up. Mandy fills me in on the gossip from the floor and assures me that I’ll get longer stretches of sleep in the near future. Shannon also had a baby last year, her second, and we commiserate on how hard motherhood can be while promising to make plans for a coffee date when I get back. Makes me miss Charlotte a little. When was the last time I sat down to talk to my girlfriends? Probably when they brought over food right after Maisie was born.

  Whatever the case, chatting with them felt normal. Like we picked up right where we left off. And they seemed to be back to normal after having babies, too, which gives me hope. That might be me soon. Happy. Thriving.

  After I hang up, I see that Beau’s texted me.

  Beau: Morning. Still feeling full, I hope?

  I smile at the reference.

  Annabel: I am. Also, I have amazing fucking news.

  Beau: What’s that?

  Annabel: MAISIE IS STILL SLEEPING

  Annabel: WHI
CH MEANS SHE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT

  Beau: [GIF of Brad Pitt dancing with his arms above his head]

  Beau: How great do YOU feel this morning?

  Annabel: Like a whole new woman.

  Beau: Let’s celebrate. How about we give your mama the night off so she can hang out with her fly guy? I’ll come over with some food and a lot of mocktails, and we can hang with Maisie. Just the three of us.

  Annabel: Fly guy. Ha.

  Beau: If you’re reading between the lines, then yes, I most certainly am offering to put Lizzie up in her own suite at the main house tonight. So we can…and they can…

  My heart skips a beat, and my insides clench at the idea of having Beau, and the house, all to myself. Especially if Maisie sleeps like she did last night.

  My phone somehow slithers out of my shaking hands, landing on the floor with a clap. I freeze. A beat later, the baby starts to cry.

  I quickly type out a reply before setting down my phone to dash upstairs.

  Annabel: Pls no more references to my mom doing it, happy as I am for her. Also, where can I get lube around here?

  Heading upstairs, I wait for the dread that I usually feel when Maisie wakes up.

  But today, I actually feel…carefully optimistic? Beau’s words—you got this—keep popping up in my head.

  Right now, I do feel like I have this motherhood thing down. Sort of. That can change literally in the blink of an eye, but all of a sudden—no, actually, it’s been a lifetime since I had a decent night’s sleep—my baby gave me a break.

  Not only that, but I lived to tell the freaking tale.

  I survived.

  Beau texts me back as I’m nursing Maisie.

  Beau: I’ll grab the lube. Any preference on type?

  Annabel: Not sure. I’ve never had to use it before.

  Annabel: PS how weird is it that we’re talking about this?

  Beau: Weird. And awesome. What time works?

  Annabel: Meh, I have a four-month-old. There’s no good time. Want to say around six?

  Beau: Perfect. I’ll bring everything. Y’all just bring yourselves.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Beau

  “If you were to buy lube. If. What would be your favorite kind?”

  Samuel strokes his chin like he’s contemplating one of life’s greatest mysteries. “Water- or oil-based?”

  Standing, I walk around my desk. I need to close my office door before some poor, unsuspecting employee overhears this lovely little conversation we’re having. “Fuck if I know.”

  “Go with water. You’ll have to use more of it, but since you’re a lube virgin, I think it’s the safer bet. You’ll still be able to slide right in there—”

  “What’s this I’m hearing about lube?”

  Milly pushes the door back open. She strides into my office like she owns the place, crossing her arms as she takes in Samuel and me.

  “I’m seeking out Samuel’s professional opinion on something.”

  “If you want to know what lube you should use with Annabel, you should’ve asked me. Although Samuel is right on this one.” Milly’s gaze flicks to Samuel. “You can’t use oil-based lube with condoms. You’re going to use condoms, right?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “So?”

  “I hate y’all.” I tug a hand through my hair. My face is burning. “Yes, I’m going to use condoms. I’m not fifteen or an idiot.”

  “Good boy.” Milly pats my shoulder before taking a seat in front of my desk, arranging the skirt of her dress neatly over her lap. “Now tell us everything.”

  I fall into my chair with a pained sigh and settle my boot on the edge of the desk. “What is there to tell?”

  “I thought you just said you weren’t an idiot?” She pins me with a glare. If looks could kill, Milly would be a murderess extraordinaire. I love the fact that she takes no shit. Except when she’s not taking shit from me. “We wanna know what happened between ‘Annabel and I are going to do outdoor activities together’ and ‘Annabel and I are going to do indoor activities together that require lube.’ I thought you’d given up and resigned yourself to eternal bitterness and certain death?”

  I’m downright yanking on my hair now. I look anywhere but at my annoyingly inquisitive siblings.

  “Me wanting Annabel doesn’t change what happened to Daddy,” I say, my voice gruff. “I’m still headed in that direction. Only thing that’s changed is how I’m viewing the present. Annabel’s making me see things differently, that’s all.”

  I stayed up half the night wondering what the hell my next move should be.

  I’m in love. No question about that.

  I still do question, however, what kind of future I can realistically give Annabel. She deserves happiness. After spending the day with Bel at our cooking lesson, I know now that I deserve it too. Considering our heart-to-heart that day—which was promptly followed by the world’s most hilarious food fight—it’s pretty obvious we’re happiest when we’re together.

  That might not always be the case. Right now, though? It is, and it’s making me want to stop putting my life on hold to enjoy whatever time we have left. Could be a week. Could be a decade. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and it could be forever.

  There’s no telling what the future holds. I’m terrified of disappointing Bel in the long run, but I’m even more terrified of hurting her right now, when things are new and fragile and could blow up in our faces at any moment. It kills me that I can’t guarantee a damn thing.

  But if right now is all I can give her, then you bet your bottom dollar I’m going to give right now my all. If anyone deserves to be worshipped and adored and loved, it’s Annabel.

  Doesn’t hurt that she’s fucking gorgeous. Fun. Sexy.

  God, I want her.

  “I still think she deserves more. But she’s on board with what we can have right now. She wants us to enjoy each other. Temporarily. While we still have time.”

  Samuel grins. “That so?”

  “Yes. I’ve done a lot of thinking. And as long as I keep the lines of communication open between Bel and me—as long as we put our cards on the table and keep them there…” I shrug. “I don’t know. Seems like it’s worth a shot. She still likes me, still wants me, even though I’m damaged goods. Hell, she wants me because I’m damaged goods. Says it makes me more human.”

  Milly’s expression softens. “That’s beautiful.”

  “Amen,” Samuel adds, glancing up at the ceiling as he points his fingers heavenward. Then he gazes at me. “So when’s the wedding?”

  “I’m planning it,” Milly jumps in. “Just when I thought I couldn’t love Annabel more. I can’t wait!”

  I let my head fall back, silently begging the good Lord for patience. “There will be no wedding, all right? Jesus Christ, this is exactly why I don’t tell y’all shit. Bel and I aren’t even together. We’re—”

  “What?” Milly asks.

  I run through the options in my head.

  Good friends?

  Friends don’t fuck.

  Fuck buddies?

  Fuck buddies don’t talk for hours about their feelings.

  Dating?

  Maybe. But we haven’t said that word yet. Nor have we gone on any official dates. Or have we? Do the fly fishing and cooking lessons count? What about the bonfire? They were all romantic. Fun. Flirty.

  All qualifications for solid dates.

  “We just are, okay? We’re both going through hell right now, and neither of us sees any need to put a label on what’s happening. We’re enjoying our time together, and we’ll see where that takes us.” I hold up my hand when Samuel opens his mouth to speak. “End of discussion. Now if y’all will excuse me, I have some lube to purchase.”

  Milly stands, too. “Before you go, just a reminder we’ve got a meeting with John and Celeste tomorrow at six PM. They’re flying in private from Australia. I want y’all there for every minute of this thing. It’s our
highest-profile wedding yet, and if we kill it—which we will, because I’m in charge—it will open the floodgates to all kinds of cool clientele.”

  I open my phone and enter the time into my calendar. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll be there, six PM sharp,” Samuel says.

  Milly’s phone dings. She digs it out of her pocket and glances at the screen. She smiles.

  This funny, almost shy smile.

  “Your sexting friend again?”

  Samuel’s brows jump. “Milly’s sexting with someone?”

  “I told you, Beau, I prefer phone sex. And I have that with a lot of people.” Thumbs hovering over her screen, she turns and exits the room. “See you perverts later.”

  To: Annabel Rhodes (Annabel.Rhodes@CGCorp.com)

  From: John Beauregard (GoBeauYourself@gmail.com)

  May 21, 2013 11:17 AM EST

  Subject: Re: Ugh dating

  BEL! So, I’m really sorry that guy ghosted you. I know you had high hopes, but considering what he did, I’d say he’s a total dud. A couple great dates, only to stop returning your calls? WTF is wrong with people? I’m mad as hell for you. But hey, keep your head up. Stop wasting all that good perfume on losers. Yes, you told me about your perfume plots that one night at Nobu when we gave ourselves sake poisoning. To this day, just hearing the word sake makes me want to barf.

  Anyway. Don’t give up. You’re smart, you’re gorgeous, you’re funny, and one day, the right guy is going to see that and make you his. In the meantime, save the good perfume for guys who deserve it, okay?

  Thanks for asking about my sister. I’m excited for Milly and pretty damn proud of her for starting her own business. I know I’m biased, but I happen to think she’s the best damn wedding planner in the country already. Even her old boss, who’s, like, this big deal in that world, said she’s never met anyone with as much talent or drive. It’s going to be cool watching Milly’s star rise. Even better? She’s agreed to join forces with me once the resort is up and running.