Southern Seducer: A Best Friends to Lovers Romance

by Jessica Peterson

  The farm’s been keeping me pretty busy. We finalized plans with the architects last week, and now we’re sourcing supplies for what’s turning out to be a gigantic project. But we have the best people on staff who are ensuring we stick to authentic and local materials. It’s important to me that we preserve the “feel” of Blue Mountain, you know? Its history. Ain’t gonna be cheap. But it’s how I hooked Milly, promising her the resort would become the South’s preeminent luxury wedding venue. I’m working on Hank, too, with shameless appeals to his social side. He’s thinking about retirement, so I want to strike while the iron is hot.

  Wow, sorry for the novel. But we haven’t talked in two days, and I miss you. I know you’re heartbroken, but call me sometime, would you?

  Beau

  The sun is just starting to set when I pull up to Sugarhill Cottage.

  The air is warm, and so is my body.

  Bel opens the door wearing the baby in this wrap sling thing. Maisie is curled into Bel’s chest, the top of her tiny head peeking out over the wrap.

  And Bel—

  The breath leaves my lungs as I shamelessly check her out. She looks so at home, relaxed and happy, standing in the giant doorway of this giant house. Her hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves. Her green eyes are brighter than usual, same with her smile.

  She’s wearing jeans and a simple black top, just a little makeup.

  She looks fucking gorgeous. Smells good, too. I’ve been friends with Bel long enough to know she keeps a handful of perfumes in her arsenal. She explained them all to me a while back: one’s for everyday wear, one is for dates, the floral one’s for spring, the other floral for summer, and the musky, sexy, come-fuck-me-now scent is, well, for fucking.

  That’s the one she’s wearing.

  Kissing her cheek, I take in a lungful of it, my pulse kicking up a notch. Heat gathers between my legs.

  “Aw yeah,” I murmur, pulling back.

  Bel gives me this hot little smirk. “Knew you’d like the perfume.”

  “You’ve never worn it for me before.” I keep my voice low, so I don’t wake the baby.

  “I showered and everything. You’re welcome.”

  “You sure do know how to make a man feel special.” I lean down to gently kiss Maisie’s head. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s had an all right day. I’m hoping she’ll stay asleep for a bit so I can eat.” Annabel steps back with one hand on the door and the other on Maisie. “Come on in.”

  I step inside and head for the kitchen. “Don’t you worry about eating. If she gets fussy, I’ll take her so you can sit.”

  “When you say things like that,” Annabel replies, “I wonder if we’ll even need the lube. You should write a book on how to woo single moms, because you’re really fucking good at it.”

  I smile, setting everything I brought on the kitchen island. A basket of food from Chef Katie. A couple of bottles of sparkling water and a gallon of mocktails from Emma.

  A plastic Walgreen’s bag filled with condoms and every kind of water-based lube I could find.

  I thought about bringing an extra change of clothes, but it felt wrong. Presumptuous. Bel’s request for lube doesn’t automatically translate into an invitation to spend the night.

  “Wanna do this indoor picnic style?” I ask, gesturing at the basket.

  “Love it,” Annabel replies.

  Bel and I make small talk—is she as nervous as I am?—as we set out the spread. Chef Katie sent over her famous bacon and pimiento cheeseburgers on these perfect, fluffy brioche rolls with sides of a spinach-and-candied-pecan salad and sweet potato fries.

  I open the container of mocktail and pour one for each of us.

  It’s fancy picnic food at its best, and I can’t help but feel a swell of pride. I got this right. The resort. The food.

  The fact that I get to share it all with Annabel and her daughter.

  Above all, I want Blue Mountain Resort to be a place where people gather with their loved ones. That’s how it was for me growing up, at least until my dad got really sick, and that’s how I want to remember it.

  A place of refuge. Of wide lawns and laughter and meals shared around the table.

  We drink the mocktails and eat our food. The baby stirs, cooing into Annabel’s chest. She looks down and smiles, then kisses the tip of Maisie’s tiny baby nose.

  Bel is a great mom. She may be having a hard time, but right now, she seems to be getting the hang of it.

  Enjoying it even.

  Watching them together, there’s this ache just inside my breastbone.

  I’m missing out.

  Not on the baby thing, necessarily.

  But I’m suddenly getting strong Sunday supper vibes. Except it’s Thursday, and this isn’t my family.

  Could be.

  “Hey, ladybug. You waking up to say hello to Uncle Beau?”

  Annabel loops her finger into the wrap and pulls it aside, revealing Maisie’s sweet little face. Her big blue-green eyes immediately find mine. My heart dips, and she coos again, this happy, gurgling sound. Annabel laughs around a mouthful of fries.

  “I think she likes you.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Sipping my mocktail, I deflect with my usual cockiness.

  I need to fight this ache, but I’m so tired of pushing.

  Maisie starts to fuss. Annabel puts down her fries and stands up, reaching for a pacifier with a stuffed unicorn attached to it. Maisie takes it hungrily, her eyes still on me.

  She’s so fucking cute, with those baby blues and her white and pink unicorn.

  The pull of this baby, the time I get to spend with Bel—it’s strong enough to sink me if I let it.

  I breathe. Focus my gaze on my glass. Maisie keeps fussing. I should offer to help.

  I should go.

  “Oh, Lord, here she goes,” Annabel murmurs when Maisie lets out a howl. “I’m gonna try to put her to bed. I fed her right before you came, so hopefully she’ll go down okay.”

  I stand. My heart is thumping. “I’ll do it.”

  Annabel glances at me, brows curved upward. “You sure? This time of day she’s tough to handle. A bit like wrangling a tiger.”

  “I had a mullet once. I have more Joe Exotic in me than you think.”

  “If you say so.” Annabel grins. “I have the monitor right over there, so if you need me just wave and I’ll come up.”

  She hands me the baby, and I carefully scoop her into the crook of my arm. She cries harder. I start to bounce. Rhett had colic when he was a baby. It was smack dab in the middle of Daddy’s season, so Mama was pretty much left to care for us on her own. I helped a lot. We all did.

  “Sometimes reading her a book calms her down,” Annabel says. “There’s plenty on the table beside the chair up there. First door on your left. Oh! And her sleep suit should be on the bed.”

  “Got it. And don’t you dare come up. I got this. Finish your dinner.”

  I don’t ask if I need to change the baby because I already know the answer. I head upstairs and change Maisie on the bed, where Bel has a makeshift changing station set up, complete with foam pad and a caddy of diapers and wipes.

  Seems counterintuitive because changing poopy diapers is the pits. But I find myself smiling. “Okay, Miss Maisie. Just so you know, we had a running joke slash competition in my house over how many wipes it took to clean up my brother Rhett after a blowout. So although this is taking four…welp, make that six wipes, it doesn’t bother me.”

  Maisie blows out her lips at that. I swear, you can’t not smile at this kid.

  “All righty,” I say, zipping up her onesie. “Mommy said you’d like me to read a book. I love that you’re into reading already. I’d invite you to our book club, but it’s a little racy for someone your age. Honestly, I can’t even tell you the name of it without getting in trouble. Let’s see what books we have here.”

  Settling in the chair by the window with Maisie in my arms, I grab a book from the litt
le table to my left. It’s a story about a koala, each cardboard page featuring a different texture for the baby to touch.

  Maisie actually pays attention as I flip the pages. I brush my lips against her downy angel fuzz. She curls into the crook of my arm, and I revel in the weight of her, her warmth, the way she fits perfectly in my lap all snuggly and sweet in her pajamas. It’s like the best kind of hug you can imagine, times infinity.

  I bring her hand to the book to feel the koala’s furry ears, and she giggles, leaning forward in an effort to put the book in her mouth.

  She’s enjoying this. Me, sharing one of my great loves with her.

  The ache in my chest turns into what feels like a full-blown cardiac event.

  It takes work to get the baby down. But I’m grateful for the distraction as I rock and shush. Bounce and sway.

  Maisie finally falls asleep, head lolling over my forearm. And goddamn if the beauty of the moment doesn’t bowl me over.

  I didn’t mean to fall in love with my best friend.

  I definitely didn’t mean to fall in love with her little family.

  But here I am, head over heels in love with a life that isn’t mine.

  To: John Beauregard (GoBeauYourself@gmail.com)

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

  June 12, 2014 7:57 AM EST

  Subject: Sooooooo

  I think I met someone. I haven’t told you about him because it was all so new, and I didn’t want to jinx it. But we went on our third date last night, and Beau…I’m pretty sure he’s the one.

  Before you call bullshit, let me explain. His name is Ryan. We’ve moved in the same circles in Charlotte for a while (the finance world here is pretty small), but we only met face-to-face a month ago at a bar. We started talking. 3 AM rolls by, the bar is closing, and we’re still chatting. I got butterflies!

  He works in syndicate and is apparently quite the rising star over there. Really smart, with the résumé to prove it. He’s from New York of all places. Did you ever see me ending up with a Yankee? Me neither!

  Best of all, he wants kids. Three, just like me. Would it make you gag to say I think Ryan and I would make beautiful babies?

  I don’t mean to gush, but I legit can’t stop smiling. We’re sneaking off to Charleston for the weekend. Gonna hit up this spot called The Pearl we keep hearing great things about. Ryan’s a foodie too. Sorry not sorry for the terrible line, but we really do get along like peas and carrots.

  You were right about saving my perfume for the right guy. I can’t wait for you to meet him. Come visit us!

  XO,

  Bel

  PS: I’ve been asked TWICE by co-workers about these rumors you’re retiring. Obvi I don’t say anything, but I am thinking of you and hope you’re okay.

  PPS: If you are retiring, then maybe you, me, and Ryan can take a trip somewhere fun. Cabo again?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Annabel

  Beau’s wearing a funny expression when he comes back downstairs.

  “You okay?” I ask, wiping my hands on my napkin. “I was watching y’all on the monitor, and I saw she was still fussing for a bit there. She didn’t, like, scar you or anything with her screaming, did she?”

  He looks at me, running a hand through his hair. His eyes—they’re full.

  “Nah. She’s cute as hell. You make beautiful babies, Bel.”

  We’d make beautiful babies.

  The thought pops into my head, uninvited.

  Can’t go there for a thousand reasons. Among them: the thought of going through pregnancy, birth, and the first four months again makes me want to play in traffic.

  Although.

  Although. As I watched Beau read to my daughter on the monitor, my insides swelled with affection. His rendition of That’s Not My Koala was cute and patient and approachable.

  Maisie adored it, and so did I.

  “Maybe we should change the name of Word Porn,” Beau says. “That way Maisie can join.”

  I smile. “I kinda like how dirty our little club’s been from the beginning. But we can start a new one for the three of us?”

  “Love that idea. Something G-rated.”

  “How about that name? G-rated? Just so we, you know, don’t get the two clubs confused.”

  Beau laughs. “Count me in.”

  Longing is spreading up the sides of my torso, settling like a weight in my core.

  The space, ten feet or so, that separates Beau and me crackles. The heat that’s been there since he stepped foot in the house half an hour ago stoked to new heights by whatever it is Beau’s feeling right now.

  “If you’re having second thoughts—”

  “I’m not. Before we…” His chest rises on a sharp inhale. “Bel, I need something from you.”

  I roll my lips between my teeth. His eyes flick to my mouth, and his nostrils flare. “Name it.”

  “What’s about to happen, it could be the only thing I have to give you. Tell me you understand that.”

  Rising from my stool, I set my napkin on the counter beside my plate. I still have half a burger and some fries left. It was all delicious, but I am too nervous—excited—to finish it.

  “I understand,” I say.

  And I do.

  It was my idea to keep our expectations in check. But now—

  Now I’m wondering if that’s what I really want, or if it’s just a shitty defense mechanism. A knee-jerk reaction to feelings I’m not ready to name.

  I think part of the reason having a baby was so appealing was because it meant I wouldn’t be emotionally available to fall in love again. I’d be in too deep with a baby to care or think about a relationship.

  There is no room for romance in survival mode.

  And for a while, that was true. I was too busy being ground to dust by the present to dwell on what my romantic future might look like.

  But now I’m faced with the most delicious, most dangerous future of all: one where I’m in love with Beau.

  Maybe I should’ve fought this. I shouldn’t have welcomed it the way I have.

  I just had no idea how quickly I’d be in over my head. But how could I not be in love with him? When you know a man as intimately as I’ve known Beau for over fifteen years, their souls become so familiar. And that friendship, that soulship…it’s a forever kind of thing.

  It makes falling in love as easy as breathing.

  “Okay,” he says. His eyes are on my face again. Searching. Searing.

  Running my hands down the front of my jeans, I say, “All right.”

  Beau grabs the Walgreens bag off the counter and rummages through it, producing two boxes and a few tubes labeled water-based lubricant.

  My pulse takes off at a sprint.

  “So it’s been a while,” I begin.

  “Really,” he deadpans.

  “I have no clue what to expect. Post-baby sex is not a popular topic of conversation, probably for good reason. I don’t know how this is going to, er, feel. Or go. Or not go.”

  His eyes bore into mine. “I don’t want you to worry about me. This is about you, Bel, and making you feel good.”

  “I want to make you feel good, too.”

  “Aw, honey.” God, I love it when he calls me that. His eyebrows curve upward. “You make me feel good just by bein’ around. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch to be doing this with you. It’s an honor. I’m following your lead.”

  This huge, powerful man is putting himself at my mercy like it’s no big deal. Like I’m the desirable one, the one with the power, instead of the other way around.

  It is a big deal, which probably explains why my throat swells.

  You’ve got this.

  Enough chitchat. I’m ready, and there’s no telling when Maisie will be up next. Or when my nerve will falter.

  A part of me wants it to feel weird when I move across the kitchen to stand in front of Beau. I place a hand on his chest.

  He’s wearing a broken-in tee
tonight, soft to the touch. The muscles of his chest, shoulders, and back are clearly visible through the thin fabric.

  The slope of his pectoral feels warm and solid beneath my palm.

  Shelter.

  But it’s not weird. Not at all. I think, heart wild inside my body, that this is all we’ve been after since we first met. A sense of home.

  A sense of safety that we’ve found in each other.

  My eyes squeeze shut. I can’t think about Beau that way. It feels too good.

  It hurts too much.

  So I go up on my toes and open my eyes for a split second. Our gazes lock, sending a spasm of tenderness through me. The look he gives me is equal parts raw lust and deep admiration. If I wasn’t in love with him before—

  Lord, am I in it now. Because somehow, against all odds, despite the PPD, I feel powerful. Beautiful. And oh so turned on.

  I kiss him and he kisses me back, ducking his head so I can flatten my feet. He kisses me hungrily, bending me backward with the force of his caress. Slipping an arm around my waist, he presses his lips to mine. Tongue in my mouth. Heart on his sleeve.

  This is special. Remember right now. How this feels.

  It’s jarring to be touched with such urgency. I feel like Sleeping Beauty waking up from a spell.

  I’m aware of my body in a whole new way. Only it’s not new. I just haven’t felt this way since I got pregnant, with the notable exception of that kiss at the bonfire.

  My body is mine. Right now, it belongs only to me. It exists only for my pleasure. Pleasure that blooms beneath Beau’s expert touch.

  I’m at home with him and at home in my own skin. Finally.

  Feels like the first kiss of spring after a long, long winter.

  Beau slowly sucks on my bottom lip with a tiny, intentional scrape of his teeth.

  My knees give out. Literally. I grab the countertop behind me with a gasp, but Beau’s got me, tightening his arm around my waist.

  “You all right?” he asks against my mouth, still kissing me like he can’t pull away, not even for half a second.