A Perfect Dilemma

by Zoe Dawson

  “River Pearl, you ready to give your speech?”

  “Yes, Momma. I have it all set to go.”

  Once the salad plates were cleared, an enticing aroma permeated the room. I wasn’t the only one who started breathing more deeply. I probably wasn’t the only one whose mouth was watering, either. When the waiter placed my plate in front of me, I identified the unmistakable smell of gumbo. I looked down to find a puff pastry covered with what looked like shrimp, chicken, and Andouille sausage, steamed rice and shaved green onion, and asparagus with a Cajun white sauce.

  When I took a bite, I couldn’t suppress a purr of pleasure. My momma looked at me with a puzzled frown.

  “This isn’t what you ordered, is it?”

  I shook my head. My menu had been totally…different. It slowly dawned on me that the caterer must have messed up. After a second bite, I simply didn’t care. It tasted so good.

  Wait a second. If I had the wrong meal...this could be a disaster. I could give two shakes for my reputation, but my momma would have to bear the burden of my failure. She wasn’t good at bearing anything. I looked around for Jeff, but couldn’t find him. I rose, whispering to my momma. “I’ll be right back.” Her eyes were concerned. I headed to the kitchen and went through the double white doors and stopped dead.

  The unexpected sight of Braxton Outlaw at the counter, his broad shoulders filling my view, stirred everything in me. He didn’t have a membership here, even though I knew he could afford one. The fact that Braxton Outlaw turned his nose up at us upper-crust townsfolk made me smile. He was as unpredictable as the Louisiana weather and as damaging.

  He was standing with his back to me, plating the lunches and garnishing them, looking, as usual, in his element and in complete control. He was dressed in a white T-shirt that clung to his thick back muscles, tucked into a pair of tight, faded jeans, gloving one…mmm-hhhmmm……fine ass. His white apron accentuated his lean waist and hips.

  Modeling for some of the biggest designers in the world, I had been with some of the most gorgeous guys on the planet, often scantily clad. But Braxton was the only one who ever made me vibrate.

  “Braxton?”

  He looked over his shoulder, shooting me a sultry, annoyed look. I took a step forward, and my stupid high-heeled sandal hit a patch of something and my foot went out from under me. Braxton moved fast and caught me around the middle, his arm a thick band across my back.

  His features were finely formed, true of all three of the trips. Booker and Boone were equally gorgeous, but there was something about Braxton’s face that always drew me to him in particular. Tantalizing angles and planes I wanted to study and absorb. Rugged, chiseled, and strong. I never had trouble telling him apart from his brothers. It was as if my brain and body knew him instinctually. There was a wildness in those eyes, and something nameless which always intrigued me. I only glimpsed it every so often, but it was always there when he looked at me. As if I was a prize he couldn’t have.

  It pissed me off.

  His unbearably blue eyes, fringed with thick, black lashes were the clearest, deepest color, eyes a girl could get lost in, and plenty had. Anger spiked, although I had no excuse for it. Braxton had never promised me anything. In fact, he’d never even so much as touched me until this summer.

  Skirt-chaser.

  Sweet-talker.

  Heartbreaker.

  He was all of those. His reputation was legendary. I was a fool to think I could control him in any way. The wildness of Braxton couldn’t truly be tamed, although maybe harnessed. But never broken.

  Other than that kiss I’d planted on him at the barbeque only weeks ago, when he’d been such a complete ass, was the closest I’ve ever been to him. My mouth tingled at his nearness.

  I ached to touch him. It was an intense, physical pain, even more pronounced now than when I was younger. Now I knew what it was like to be with a man. I’d tried in vain to get him out of my system, and there were always willing men who made it clear they thought I was just perfect.

  That was the problem. I wasn’t.

  But no one had ever eclipsed my stupid infatuation with Braxton Outlaw. I wanted to have him and get it over with. But he was such a jerk about it, and I couldn’t understand why. I was probably, other than Verity or Aubree, one of the few women in this town Braxton hadn’t touched.

  So we sniped, teased, and name-called in our frustration.

  Because there was one thing I was sure about. Braxton wanted me. A woman knows that.

  “Carrie,” he said in his soft, enticing Southern drawl, “get a cloth and wipe up the spill.”

  One of the waitresses scurried away to search for a towel.

  “What are you doing in my kitchen, sugar pie?” Braxton always looked contrary, like he was plotting and planning how he was going to get his hand in the cookie jar.

  “This isn’t your kitchen. In fact, you don’t even have a membership here!”

  His eyes went cold and he stiffened.

  He whirled me back on my feet so fast I had to catch my balance all over again. Shoot. I’d done it again.

  “Well, honey pie, I was ambushed and my arm was twisted.”

  “Twisted? For what?”

  “To save your pretty…party.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Double-teamed by my brothers, who found out you were in trouble here because your caterer flaked out on you, and by some blowhard name Jack.”

  “Jeff.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Oh, hush my mouth. When?”

  “This morning.”

  I gaped at him—first overwhelmed by the fact that he’d put together not only a scrumptious meal, but had turned the concept of gumbo into an elegantly presented masterpiece, and second, that he had accomplished it in five hours. Five hours!

  “I wasn’t happy about it,” he said, “but I didn’t want my brothers to have to deal with the fallout from their women over a few meals and some dessert for a bunch of fancy women who wouldn’t be caught dead in Outlaws, let alone eating something I prepared.”

  His snotty remarks spiked my already frustrated libido.

  Did I thank him for his extraordinary efforts on my behalf?

  Of course I didn’t.

  I couldn’t have any kind of normal exchange with this man. My gratitude for what he had done was obliterated, both by his habit of insulting me, and by my own damn smart mouth.

  Rather than giving him a gracious, ladylike thank you, I drawled, “Well, I guess it will have to do. It’s not catered quality, but then you only had a few hours to throw it together. It’s a wonder we can choke it down.”

  “River Pearl!” my momma’s shocked voiced sliced like an arctic wind through the kitchen. I cringed, my shoulders hunching in my expensive dress.

  He gave me one of those inimitable Outlaw smirks. One I longed to smack off his handsome face. Verity and Aubree would agree. They also had plenty of experience with that damn smirk.

  He leaned over and said low, his sexy voice like a caress. “I think you’re choking on something, sugar pie. Something that tastes like fancy shoe leather.” I trembled slightly as his heat drifted over my skin, and the longing hurt like a knife thrust.

  “I know where I want to put my fancy shoe leather, all four inches of it.” I hissed under my breath.

  “River Pearl,” my momma warned in a tone of voice that assured me I was in deep doo-doo.

  I turned away and Braxton said, “Leave some room for my banana cream pie.”

  I knew what was going through my momma’s head. Braxton was notorious, disreputable. But with Booker’s help, he’d become a man of means, and didn’t exactly fit into the white trash box now. Momma didn’t have any protocols for relating to riffraff with money.

  But my momma was ever the consummate lady. “Thank you, Mr. Outlaw,” she said, nodding at him, but not offering her hand. The smile was the one she had been trained to give to Yankees and liberal Democrats. As she turned away, I looked
back at Braxton. He grinned an unholy grin, his eyes shining like polished sapphires.

  And now I had insulted his cooking when he had gone out of his way to pull my butt out of the fire. I didn’t need my momma’s censorship and disappointed glances to tell me I had misbehaved.

  “That was completely rude and unacceptable, young lady.”

  I covered my mouth like I was worried, gasping, “Do you think they’ll confiscate my beauty queen crown?” I said before I could stop myself. I was so sick of it all.

  My momma inhaled sharply and looked even more outraged. “You are being a shameful wanton today, miss. Now sit down and try to keep your insults to a minimum.”

  “When have you ever cared about the Outlaws?”

  “I care about comportment and manners, River Pearl, and after all the time and tears I’ve invested in your upbringing, I expect better of you.”

  An upbringing complete with pretty pink bows, dyed blonde hair, frilly taffeta and expectations up the wazoo.

  “You did a wonderful, Momma, and I certainly know better,” I said to mollify her, or I’d have to hear about this hideous breach of the Debutante Code of Conduct for the rest of the week.

  It was clear Braxton’s creations had wowed everyone. When the waitress placed the pie in front of me, I wanted to slam it into Braxton’s smug and snarky face. But with my momma giving me the evil eye, I took a bite…and had to stifle my moan of pleasure. It was the creamiest confection I’d ever tasted.

  I ate every bite, right down to the graham cracker crust. If it wouldn’t have caused my momma to fall out of her chair in a mortified dead faint, I would have licked my plate.

  I thought about it. Seriously.

  Savannah was eyeing the bartender again, but her momma was keeping close tabs on her. I gave her a too bad look and she sent me her patented disgruntled teenager face.

  There was a commotion at the door, accompanied by a lot of squeals and exclamations. I turned and caught a glimpse of thick blond hair. When my brother waded through the circle of females, my momma let out her own squeal and surged up from the chair. He ate up the distance between us and pulled us both into a hard embrace.

  “Jake, my boy,” my momma said. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming in early? We would have picked you up.”

  “I couldn’t wait, and I wanted to surprise you. I rented a car and drove straight from the airport. It was only two hours.”

  “Hey, sis,” he said giving me one of his rare smiles. He always looked so tough and in control.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him another hard hug. “Hello, sweetie. It’s so good to see you.”

  His arms gathered me close and held on for a second longer than I did. My heart caught a little bit. I knew what it was like to feel homesick, and how good it was to get back to what you loved.

  “Welcome home,” I said in his ear and he nodded against my face, his thick, shoulder-length hair silky against my cheek.

  Then he stiffened. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  Restless murmurs began rumbling through the crowd like distant thunder.

  I turned to see Braxton talking to the bartender. After a moment, he must have felt my brother’s scrutiny. He turned to look at Jake, and grinned at him like a long-lost brother. Without missing a beat he flipped my brother the finger.

  I stared at Braxton, his eyes gone cold, and a chill grabbed my spine with icy fingers. Unpredictable Braxton Outlaw, affable one minute and mean as sin the next. His smile chilled another degree.

  My brother’s jaw flexed and then he charged at Braxton before I could even get my hand on his arm.

  He wasted no time in throwing a punch at Brax as soon as he was within swinging range, but Braxton ducked the hard right hook with a boxer’s grace. He could have hit my brother if he’d wanted to. Jake was open and undefended, while every line of Brax’s body was guarded. Then the bartender was between them, holding Jake off. Adrenaline seared my veins. With deliberate, deceptively lazy movements, Brax propped himself up against the doorjamb leading to the kitchen, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Chill out, Sutton,” Braxton drawled, challenge underpinning his words. “You can have a crack at me later.” I was standing there, frozen in place, when he looked at me. The coldness was gone. I shivered again, but ice didn’t play any part in it. Awareness arced between us like electricity. Bad-ass Braxton Outlaw didn’t give a damn that he was causing a scene. He held me immobile, his eyes a dark, bottomless blue. I felt as if those eyes were reaching right into my soul. When he released me, I finally was able to take a breath.

  His eyes flicked to Jake’s. “Why don’t you getcha some pie?” he suggested, looking at me again as he wet his bottom lip and captured the fullness of it between his teeth, his gaze even more intense. “I sure intend to get me some,” he said, his dark eyes shining as he homed in on my mouth.

  I swallowed hard as raw need pummeled me. After one more Outlaw smirk, he turned his back and disappeared into the kitchen. A collective sigh hushed out. Jake swore under his breath and twisted out of the bartender’s grasp, backing up. He scowled darkly at us and stalked out of the room.

  This had to go down in history as one of the most exciting Daughters of the Confederacy meetings we’d ever had in Suttontowne. Male posturing aside, so much for my controversial speech.

  My momma put a hand to her forehead and I sidled closer. I was quite thankful it wasn’t me who had made her swoon. This time.

  #

  River Pearl

  Back at home my momma had to retire to her room to handle the embarrassment her children had cost her today.

  My daddy was out in the pecan groves as usual. We had a small store in town processed and sold pecans by the bushel to many retailers. I wasn’t involved in the daily running of the company, mostly because my momma wouldn’t hear of it.

  I changed into linen shorts and a cool white cotton tank, my radar primed for my cousin Earl and went to the kitchen in my bare feet.

  I poured myself a glass of ice-cold lemonade and felt a tingle of wariness at the base of my neck. I turned and Earl was standing too close, boxing me in the corner with the counter to my back.

  He had come to live with us when he was eleven years old. He was the son of my daddy’s distant cousin Sam Sutton. We were never told exactly why he’d come to live with us. It was only recently that I discovered that he’d been orphaned when his daddy killed his momma, then himself. They had been quite wealthy, but his daddy had lost everything and when his wife threatened to leave him, he kinda lost it. Tragically, Earl witnessed the whole thing. Earl worked for my daddy, managing the crews in the pecan groves ever since he finished college.

  He had dark hair, handsome features with a honed and muscular body and striking green eyes that seemed to me to be…mesmerizing in an unsettling way.

  “Hey, River, we haven’t had much time since you’ve been home to…get together,” he said. There was something almost…intimate in his tone. Something had changed. Earl was always looking at me in a way that made my flesh crawl. He creeped me out big time.

  Earl was nine years older than I was, a distant enough relative to make it acceptable for him to hook up with me. “I’m sure we can fit something in,” I said, my fake smile firmly in place. I tried to sidestep him, but he countered me and wrapped his hand around my upper arm.

  “When?”

  When hell froze over and little demons built snowmen.

  “Soon,” I said, and tried to move past him again, but his hand tightened. “Let me go, Earl.”

  For a tense moment, he stared at me, his eyes glittering, then he smiled affably and released me. “Sure, River. Find some time for me on your calendar.”

  Yeah, sure, I agreed. At the same time those little demons had a snowball fight.

  Dismissing him, I sipped my lemonade on my way to the back patio. The pool glistened a turquoise blue, throwing off blinding
flashes as I plopped down into a chair in the shade.

  My momma would have a fit if she even thought I was sitting in the sun without at least SPF 40 rubbed all over me.

  I heard the sliding glass door open, then slam, and turned to see Jake come out in his swim trunks and dive into the pool without even a howdy.

  I watched him swim in short, jerky strokes. I missed the days when we were close, Jake, Chase and I. I missed Chase so much. He was always so calm, so serene, where Jake was a bundle of chaos and noise. It was no wonder he had been so popular in high school.

  I had to wonder if he had been under the same pressures I was. I hadn’t ever considered the possibility, because I was the one running the beauty pageant gauntlet. But maybe Jake had started to feel the pressure of being a Sutton after he’d entered high school.

  He sure felt it now.

  He rose from the pool, looking all golden god-like with his ripped body and slicked back hair.

  He grabbed up a towel from the stack always waiting on a cart that magically disappeared with our dirty towels and reappeared with soft, fluffy clean ones.

  “Braxton Outlaw is a dick,” he said.

  “Jake, you’d better not let Momma hear you say that. ‘Sides, you’re only saying it because he got you to react.”

  It reminded me what a formidable force the Outlaws had been in high school, striding down the halls like they owned the place. Irresistible, tough rebels with a get-the-hell-out-of-my way looks almost everyone heeded.

  In high school I’d been a pretty typical popular girl, and eventually I became resigned to the role. With the last name of Sutton, my brothers and I enjoyed a certain predictable status. Chase had never flaunted his money, popularity or his extremely good looks. He was so genuine, my oldest brother, sensitive in a way that Jake, the second to the oldest, never understood. Jake was a more typical jock and Sutton. He did enjoy everything our money brought us, and had a flashy car and clothes to let everyone know. With his golden blond hair and his drop-dead looks, Jake didn’t want for female attention.