Because of the stipulations set forth in the trust that governed her family, Dudley had actually legally changed his last name from Morris to DeBordieu already in his anticipation of inheriting DeBordieu Plantation.
Her old secret nickname for him used to be D.U.M.—same reason, because of the acronym—until the change. Amongst all her cousins, he was still the most likely heir to her family’s land.
She turned to avoid Dudley and his cookie-cutter fiancé and handed the package to the hostess. “This is from Enjoliver,” she said.
“For the silent auction?” the hostess asked, checking her lipstick in a tiny mirror that she quickly slipped under the table. “That’s the cute little French dress shop on the square, right?”
Jenna nodded. “Oh. One more thing,” she said as she sheepishly slipped the check from the special compartment in her purse. “This, too. But it’s a private donation.”
Jenna probably should be a bit more conservative with the last of her trust fund money because the well was about to go dry. But she loved Ben, too, and this money could help save the boy’s life.
“Gotcha,” the hostess said. “I’ll put it under the raffle drawer.” Then she looked up. “Sure you don’t want to buy tickets with the money? You only get one with admission.” She inspected the room like there might be something more exciting going on than there was at her small table.
Jenna shook her head. She’d already heard of some of the items in the raffle. The last thing she needed was a jet ski…or worse yet…a motorcycle. She had a reputation—and a family name—to protect. At least for a little while longer.
She looked around to see if anyone was watching, took the wire frame glasses from the zippered section in her bag, slipped them on, and paused. What to do here? So she filled out her one free ticket. With her best friend’s name. That was safe, right? No way April would win. Jenna certainly couldn’t take the chance that she’d win herself. Dudley over there would never let her live it down. April probably didn’t know a soul here—other than her.
She put her glasses away in her very organized bag and walked toward the sea of people in the ballroom, the heft of her failed responsibilities weighing upon her like the heavy moss hanging from the branches of the hoary oaks outside. Everything else in her life was meticulously ordered. So much so that she had to have her therapist on speed dial these days. Jenna’s OCD, which was usually mild, was rearing its ugly head lately as time ticked away.
It all would have to be figured out later. Tonight she was going to concentrate on April and supporting her.
And there she was—all the way across the grand ballroom. And as beautiful as usual. Jenna had always been drawn to April because she had a sort of…glow about her. She was especially glowing tonight. But shoot. She was with that biker dude, Bullworth Clayton. Jenna was sure he was nice enough, but he wasn’t right for April. That had been the only thing she hadn’t been able to manage about April’s life, either—well, that and her acceptance to the Summerbrook Ladies League. April just wasn’t trying hard enough to push her membership, though. But that wasn’t the end of the world—just a part of their plans as friends. Jenna, however, was not exactly a stellar member of the league and hardly ever attended meetings any longer.
Jenna fought the crowd of overly dressed women and heavily cologned men to get to her friend. They exchanged hugs and air kisses.
Jenna loved April, who was a risk assessment manager at a local insurance company. Together, they were Team Low Risk.
They stood for a moment in an awkward silence. Jenna smiled at April’s date. He was extremely handsome—in a rugged sort of way.
“You lovely ladies want something to drink?” Bullworth asked.
Jenna was practically dehydrated because she’d forgotten to take a bottle of water with her.
Bullworth left to get the drinks, so she seized the opportunity to get to the bottom of things.
“You didn’t tell me Bullworth was going to be here.” Jenna straightened the straps on April’s dress, brushed at a curl that needed smoothing, and sized up her girlfriend. Even though Bullworth would never make the cover of Garden and Gun, he seemed to genuinely care for April. But there was that X-factor. Neither knew the man.
“You didn’t ask,” April said, and rolled her eyes at all Jenna’s fussing.
“Well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I had to drop off the things from Enjolivier. Your parents will find out, you know. And they’re going to be really upset.” Jenna huffed. She was a lot more protective of her friend than herself. She could never again stand to lose someone else who was so close to her.
April rolled her eyes once more.
She could roll her eyes all she wanted; Jenna was still going to remind her friend about all they’d been through together. And keep April safe until she came to her own reasonable conclusion. Which needed to be soon.
It was a good thing April hadn’t actually lied to her about Bull being there. Her not telling Jenna was a technicality. Jenna simply hated liars. Ever since her parents had lied to her after her brother had died to protect her, telling her vaguely that he had been found but couldn’t come home. For weeks after the accident. After his death.
She never got to go to Anson’s funeral to say goodbye.
“Here you girls go,” Bullworth said, and handed them some punch.
He looked pretty nice tonight—with his long hair all tame and in that expensive-looking suit he was wearing. April wasn’t completely crazy going out with someone so handsome.
“Merci,” Jenna said, trying not to sound flirty, like a lot of people thought. In actuality, when she resorted to talking or thinking in French, it was a type of coping mechanism for her stress. Remnants from when she’d been carted off to France and left at that…haughty boarding school after Anson had died and her mother couldn’t deal. With anything.
That was also when her parents had lied to her for a second time, telling her that they were going to France for a family vacation. Nevertheless, Jenna could count and talk like a three-year-old French girl when she needed to get through…anxious situations.
“Well, if it’s not Mr. Clayton,” said a man Jenna didn’t recognize. A downright freaking handsome man she didn’t recognize. Jenna stood a little straighter and held the glass in her hand a little tighter. She glanced up at the crystal chandelier to recover her composure.
Bullworth shook the guy’s hand and slapped him on his back. “Hogan Thorpe. I didn’t think you came to gilded parties like this.”
April nudged her with an elbow, gave her a look, and smiled. She couldn’t help smiling back. Bullworth’s friend was gorgeous. She didn’t think suits could get sexier than Bullworth’s, but this guy… Heavens to Betsy. The suit was as black as his hair. Which was neatly trimmed around his ears and with just a few errant, stray strands trying to break loose.
She prodded April and whispered in her ear. “I’m glad I came now,” Jenna said. “Merci for asking.”
“Slow down, Danica,” April whispered. “This isn’t the Darlington Raceway.”
“Ha. Ha.” If this guy had any kind of anything going for him, Jenna didn’t need to slow down at all. Her prospects in the dating department had been looking kind of dim lately. Even she was wondering what was wrong with herself. Not that anything advantageous would probably come of this anyway. But—at least—she might get a date.
The rest was practically resolved. She was heading toward losing her family’s plantation in some silly inheritance voodoo hoodoo. Unless she ended up married to the right kind of guy who could infuse the plantation with capital. And officially drop her surname, which would feel like dishonoring her father. Or find a way to make the plantation self-sustaining, which she’d been researching desperately to no avail. Nothing, however, appeared remotely viable enough to change her fate. So why was she still even thinking about those things?
“Who are these beautiful women you’re escorting, Bull?” The super stud’s question might have b
een about her and April, but his eyes stayed fixed on Jenna.
She straightened the little black chiffon number she was wearing. It was her go-to dress, and she was certainly glad she’d gone to it this evening. She hoped it wasn’t lost on Mr. Black Tie Magic tonight.
She tried to control the no-doubt goofy smile that she knew she was sporting and asked, “Did anyone or anything special bring you here tonight?” In her head, she kept counting in French—to assuage her anxiety.
He explained how he had donated some things from his business as he sort of shuffled his feet—like he was about to sprint out of the room.
So, he’s a businessman. Check. She’d have to find out what kind of business later. She’d always had a little list of things she’d look for in a man—if she’d ever had the chance. And was brave enough to actually look.
“And what about you, pretty lady?” he asked, raking his hand through his hair.
She barely knew this guy’s name and didn’t know where he was from, and she was trying to come up with some answer that would…impress him. No. Make that…hook him.
What was wrong with her? She pulled in a deep breath. Un, deux, trois, quatre.
She told him—of course—about Ben, the little boy who was the reason for the charity event they were all here for, but he already had to know that. What she needed to do was to say something that stuck. He’d already called her a pretty lady, right? Hmmm. She flipped her hair and bit her bottom lip for an instant and said, “I also came to donate some things from the dress shop where I model.”
Guys liked dating supermodels, right? Not that she was super, but technically, she did put on a dress or two from the shop for customers. And some Summerbrook fashion shows. But so did Miss Adree, the sweet elderly lady in April’s condo, and she was no model either. But all Southern ladies liked lacy French dresses. In reality, she worked there to order for and organize the boutique.
What she didn’t need to do was to tell him about all the plantation hoopla. Or her OCD. She didn’t want to run him off too quickly.
“Well, shut my mouth. I’d buy every dress in the shop if it came with a gorgeous woman like you,” he said.
He seemed a little rough around the edges. Who actually says, “Shut my mouth”?
“That’s a pee-teet overboard, but thanks,” Jenna said.
April leaned in. “She also tutors Ben. She has an elementary ed degree, but she doesn’t use it. Except in special cases—like Ben’s,” April said. “I don’t know what his family would do without Jenna.”
Jenna smiled and hoped her education background didn’t make her seem…dull or ordinary, but she had developed a passion for special needs children when she went through the program.
If the university had one, her parents would have made her get a plantation degree. Though now she could kick her own butt for not getting some kind of agriculture degree from Clemson. Who knows? It may have helped her figure out some way to save her family’s home.
She glanced around the ballroom again. This had also been a grand plantation at some point. Like so many others, this family, too, had to sacrifice the land and their privacy to economic necessities. The Oaks was now a golf course and country club. She would never sacrifice the integrity of DeBordieu Plantation—like Dudley was planning if he inherits her land.
She brought herself back and knew she was acting too uneasy around the handsome man. She couldn’t stop herself from biting her lip and flipping her hair, though. Champagne-colored strands were flying everywhere. She was going to end up looking like she was sleeping with one of those long-haired sheep on Middleton Place Plantation with all the blond hairs on her little black dress, so she started counting between her responses to control the stress.
Un, deux, trois, quatre. That helped with the speed of her answers, but she couldn’t stop saying “pee-teet.” She was going to send him packing if she didn’t. And then it started. The involuntary eye fluttering. Which probably looked a lot like eyelash batting when she tried to purposely slow it down. She was completely out of control.
She stepped closer to him, and her anxiety skyrocketed. The nearness of him was electric. She was way shorter than he, so she looked up into his face. She was no model’s height. That was for sure.
The ballroom was huge with the high ceilings and cypress floors, and the noise in the place made it difficult to hear, so a couple of times she had to say, “Pardon moi?”
He obliged by leaning down and speaking into her ear. Oh, she nearly wished she was deaf. She wanted him to stay close. To feel his breath on her ear.
She looked beyond her group at Dudley and his fiancé staring back at her. Good. They needed to get worried a bit. They’d both assumed too much as far as she was concerned. Changing his name already. Nothing was in stone yet. She was still researching turning the land into a plant nursery. Hanna, one of her friends who was a genius in accounting, was running the numbers for her. So far, that wasn’t looking good either, though.
She glanced up at Hogan again, wishing she could get a better vantage point to take him all in. She was certainly jumping the gun, but with the right credentials, who knew what may happen. But even with everything on the line, she wasn’t going to settle for anything less than perfection. And she’d never met perfection. Until tonight. Possibly.
Oh, yeah. She could tell that Dudley and Scarlet were worried. That’s right. Scarlet. What could be more Southern and pretentious than the name Scarlet? But Dudley could change his name and marry all the Scarlets he wanted. Jenna was first in line for the trust. If there were just a few alterations in her life. She smiled at the thought that she could actually save her family’s land, her home…and Jasper’s and Amberlee’s home.
Once again Hogan got into her space and asked, “Hey, I’ve got an idea. You want to get out of here for a bit and check out some of the prizes on the veranda out back? Before they raffle them off later?”
Jenna wished she could, but she shook her head and felt a tingle run up her neck. “I promised April I’d stick close tonight.”
“Well, I thought I’d ask.” He looked around. “These monkey suit events get under my skin.” He shifted his weight and smiled.
His smile warmed a part of her she had forgotten. It evoked hope…and a future. Both were ideas she’d nearly given up on where men were concerned.
Mrs. Henry from the Summerbrook Ladies walked by and stepped back. “Jenna?”
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Henry.”
“I hardly recognized you.” She looked at the others in the group. “It was nice seeing you, dear.”
“You, too. I love the feather boa,” Jenna returned. And then stood in awkward silence once again.
For a moment, she entertained a ridiculous thought. What if she abandoned all good sense, threw caution to the wind and headed off into the night with Hogan? Someone she’d just met. She’d have had a freakin’ fit if April had done that with Bull. April needed protecting. Jenna, however, needed something completely different.
Jenna felt a tap on her shoulder and turned.
It was Mrs. Richardson from the DAR. She was standing between her and April. “Is everything all right, girls?”
Jenna looked at April. “Yes, of course, it is.” She could feel the intonation go up at the end of her response…because she didn’t get the question.
“Well, if either of you need any help this evening, our group is right over there.” She pointed to a corner of the room.
Once again they returned to their awkward silence.
“You been staying busy at the garage?” Hogan asked Bull.
“More than I can handle,” Bull answered.
The conversation stalled again. They all looked at one another, and slight smiles passed between them amongst the tinkling of glassware and the din of muffled conversations. The old building acted like a stuffy chaperone, restraining casual conversation.
Hogan realigned his stance again and looked into his cup. “Anyone else interested in more punch?”
he asked.
Jenna made a space of an inch between her index finger and thumb and said, “Un pee-teet.” That was stupid, but she couldn’t stop. If her French sounded flirty around Hogan, though, she didn’t care much. Could he tell that she was interested? Maybe not. She had very little experience in things of this nature.
“I’ll help you, dude,” Bull said, and then the two turned to walk away.
That was when Jenna thought she heard her jaw drop onto the floor and the sound of it reverberate like the giant crystal chandelier had just fallen and the antique prisms had just shattered in a million pieces.
Then silence resounded through her; her head grew light, and her peripheral vision grew gray.
The man had a mullet. A trailer park, red neck, certified mullet! Oh, no! She’d been standing in the middle of the ballroom flirting and giggling with a man with a mullet. Dudley had seen. That’s what they were talking about. Not about her getting a date…or even getting the chance to keep their plantation.
Heavens to Betsy. All of Summerbrook would know and would be talking before she made it down the front steps of the country club.
She grabbed April’s arm. She couldn’t speak. She knew at any moment a fly could buzz into her open mouth.
She stopped planning her future wedding in her imagination and started planning her escape from her embarrassment. Her escape from the man with the mullet.
Chapter Two
“The land was ours before we were the land’s. She was our land more than a hundred years before we were her people.”
~ Robert Frost
Hogan kept pace with Bullworth through the gauntlet of people trying to impress one another. The antique chandeliers above dripped prisms and light and aided in showing off all the society ladies’ jewels. This was not his scene. But he was intrigued with Jenna, and he needed to collect more information about her before he doomed her to the general lot around him. There was something about her that made her seem…different.
Fireflies and Lies (A Summerbrook Novel Book 4) Page 2
