A Perfect Dilemma

by Zoe Dawson

  I ran my hand through my hair. “Will you teach me?”

  Her eyes got all misty and she smiled. “Yes, I will.”

  “What about silverware?” Verity said.

  “I’m a frigging chef, Verity. You don’t think I know how to use cutlery?”

  She rose and rolled her eyes. “Of course you do, for Outlaws.”

  “He just catered a fancy luncheon,” Aubree pointed out.

  “Your staff took care of the cutlery layout.”

  “Who do you think looked it up on the internet?” I snorted.

  “Okay, then you know the placement, but do you know what to use for each course?”

  “I don’t give a damn what to use for each course.”

  “We know, Brax, but this isn’t about you, is it?”

  She had me there. I wasn’t doing this for myself. I was doing this for River. It was clear even her own momma didn’t understand her. But I did. I wanted to be there, because I sensed she needed me to be.

  I finally left just as my brothers pulled up. But I didn’t want to answer the questions I saw on their faces, so, I jetted. I knew Aubree and Verity would keep my secret.

  Fuck. Waltzing. Me.

  By the time I got home, my jaw was hurting big time, and swelling. I stowed the bike in the garage and went into the house. In the bathroom I inspected my lip and saw it was still a bit raw. My jaw was bruised, but I bet Jake’s hand also hurt. I knew what it was like to punch someone in the face. Hurt like a son of a bitch.

  I closed my eyes. I wanted back what we had all those years ago, I admitted unabashedly to myself. I wanted that friendship. I liked Chase. I truly did, but…Jake…he understood so much. Dammit. I knew what he’d done all those years ago. But I couldn’t help him make a decision that involved me. He had to make it himself. Stupid bastard.

  He’d told me to stay away from his sister. I laughed to myself, wincing when my jaw protested. I had tried. I had worked hard at it. For more years than I cared to count.

  No way to explain what River Pearl Sutton did to me. I couldn’t get that part straight in my head. She was sassy. She was strong. She was beautiful. But it didn’t explain why I couldn’t get her out of my head. I’d met and done sassy, strong, and beautiful before. Many times. But it was always to purge this…this…whatever it was…with River.

  Of course it never worked. I had to remember to remind myself there was no future for us. Often.

  I couldn’t lie to myself. All of my relationships with women had been surface. I wouldn’t get involved with anyone too deeply. But I did feel a unique intensity around River. She fed something in me. Fighting with her, talking to her, interacting with her. I didn’t care. It all made me light up, made me feel alive.

  The pool of habitual anger was still there, a pool fed by my anger toward my daddy. Toward this town and the narrow-minded inability to let go of an event that took place more than a century ago. My family had been shunned and reviled since 1865, and it had taken its toll. And of course a series of horse thieves, drunks, no-accounts, and con men had strengthened and perpetuated the dishonor of the Outlaw name.

  But all I knew was my daddy had left when I was six, because he was a thief, and my ma bore the brunt of his sins, sins of the father which were then were passed on to the sons.

  The three of us were determined not to add to the disgrace.

  Boone had stirred everything up when he set his sights on the preacher’s daughter. His indiscretion at our graduation party had gotten Verity pregnant, and she’d managed to hide it for a year. But when she came back to Suttontowne, she and Boone found love. There were many who whispered behind their hands that it was all Boone’s fault, but there were also many who said he had stepped up and acted like a man.

  Of course, how the pregnancy happened actually was no fault of Boone’s, but it was now a closely-guarded family secret for Verity’s sake. We’d protect her, ferociously.

  After we trips sang in Verity’s daddy’s church, my restaurant, Outlaws, swelled with new customers, and business boomed. Boone said he now had more than enough work to keep him busy. It was also shortly afterward that Booker made the New York Times with the second book of his Redemption series.

  Maybe the town was coming around…and maybe I was deluding myself because I was turning to mush over River Pearl.

  Maybe I was a sucker to think anything I did had any impact on our reputation. Going to this River Pearl to-do would start the town talking, damage her rep, but I knew in my gut she needed me there. What was more important? I had to think the negative impact would be temporary. She didn’t live here anymore, and would be gone before it made any real difference.

  I would not allow her to be labeled as one in a long line of women I’d bedded. What we were doing now should have very little impact on her life after the month passed, because she’d be globetrotting again, and far from Suttontowne gossips.

  I didn’t do emotion, kept it locked up tight. I’d had a couple of lapses. With Booker, when he’d almost been killed, with Boone and the damn guitar, and after he’d been knifed by a psychopathic Jesus freak. I’d never been so scared in my life as when I saw my brothers broken and bloody. Both of them strung out over women who had been totally off limits. Nope, not me. That shit wasn’t going to happen to me. I could keep it all together. I could keep my heart out of it and engage only with my dick.

  I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. “I can,” I said.

  “You can what?” Booker asked from my bathroom doorway.

  “Fuck,” I growled and turned around, propping my backside against the sink and folding my arms. “Don’t tell me Boone is here—”

  “Nope. I left him with the womenfolk and decided to show up loaded for bear alone. Besides, I wanted to keep the shouting down to a minimum.”

  “What shouting?” I said, schooling my features into a blank mask. “I’m the most agreeable of the three of us.” I brushed past him out of the bathroom.

  “What happened to your face?”

  “I fell down and got a boo-boo. I don’t need you to kiss it, Ma.”

  “Braxton…geezus. What the fuck is going on with you?” I just kept walking away and he grabbed my shoulder, but I turned and shrugged his hand off me.

  “My tripdar has been working double time,” he continued, frowning. “More so than with Verity and Boone. I know there’s a woman involved, and the only one who pushes your buttons is River Pearl Sutton. Now you got yourself a swollen jaw and split lip. Did she kick your ass?”

  I turned away again and threw, “Ha fucking ha,” over my shoulder at him. Once in my bedroom, I started stripping down. “She could kick my ass on a good day without any effort. And she wouldn’t have to lay a finger on me.” Which slipped out before I could stop my tongue.

  Dammit, I was losing my stoic mojo. River Pearl simply broke me down.

  “Wait a second,” he eyed the clothes I had shucked off. “You were wearing those yesterday.”

  “When did you see me yesterday?” I rubbed my hand over my face, swearing under my breath when my fingers touched my jaw. I opened my underwear drawer and snagged a jock. Pulling it on, I settled the straps against my legs, adjusting my dick in the pouch. Opening another drawer, I got out a pair of gray shorts.

  “Outside of Outlaws when I was driving by. I saw you with your latest conquest.” Shit, he saw me with Becky, but didn’t see River because she was still in the truck. I was cool enough to play this off.

  “So I stayed the night.” I shrugged. “No big deal. I like fucking Becky.” I walked past him again and into my gym. I went to a shelf and got out the hand wrap tape. He followed me.

  Booker was like a pit bull when he wanted answers. I was like a pit bull when I didn’t want to give them. He was suspicious, but he had no proof. His silent condemnation burned a hole in my back. I started wrapping my right hand, and said, “Booker, go home and leave me alone.”

  “Nope. You’re a fucking liar. You never stay the night.
Ever. Regardless of how much you like fucking the current warm body.”

  “Shut the fuck up and stop judging me.” I spun, the tape slipping out of my hand and unraveling a bit. With a curse, I grabbed the end and rewound it, securing the Velcro fastener.

  I gave him what I was sure was my pissed-off look, but he let it bounce off him like a superhero. Why was he pushing me all of a sudden?

  “Why don’t you be honest with me? These vibes are earthquake-worthy. Something is up and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with Becky.”

  I picked up another roll and tried to tamp down the churning anger, but punching the bag was what I needed right now, not an argument with my fucking nosy brother.

  I stayed mute. There was nothing I could say.

  He started across the room while I secured the wrap and bent to pick up a set of sparring mitts and tossed them at him. He caught them against his chest.

  “Since you want to spar with me, why don’t you do something useful?”

  He glared at me as he slipped his hands into the mitts.

  “Or do you want some sparring gear to put on?”

  “No, the mitts are fine,” he bit out.

  I grabbed my gloves and jerked them on. I met his eyes and the challenge in them. Booker might be a book nerd, but my brother was no pushover. He was leaner than I was, but it was deceptive. He knew how to handle himself, so I knew I should take nothing for granted. He was the calmest of the three of us, the diplomat who knew how to use his words to coerce, keep the peace…and to wound.

  Yeah, Booker knew how to get in under my defenses without laying a glove on me.

  “Get them up and keep them up,” I said.

  He raised the mitts, stepping his foot back so he could brace for my blows.

  “Are you sure it’s the mitts you want to take a crack at?” he asked.

  I grinned and he recognized the unholy smirk. It was a patented Outlaw mainstay. “You’re such pig-headed bastard,” he said.

  I danced in place to get my blood flowing. Started with a couple of jabs, then added a straight, then back to jabs. Booker was braced solidly, but I wasn’t holding back with my blows. I needed the release. I continued jabbing and straight-punching until my arm and back muscles were loose and warmed up. Then I started with a jab, straight and cross, mixing it up.

  “So, who hit you?”

  He was taking a different tack. One he thought would work better, but it was tied to the same damn tangled mess I didn’t want to talk about, so I didn’t answer. Just kept striking the mitts.

  “Answer me, Brax.”

  I hit his hands harder and his mouth tightened.

  By then I was sweating and worked up. I didn’t have to answer to him or to anyone else. I did what I wanted to do.

  At my next punch, he pushed back and, breathing hard, I wound up my arm, but Booker threw out his hands at the last moment. Instead of hitting the mitt I was aiming for, I clocked him right on the jaw, sending him back a step.

  His face changed and I knew it was on. But all he did was put his hands up again and gave me back our patented unholy smirk. I watched him warily, but went back into my fighting stance. As soon as I threw my next punch, he absorbed it into the mitt and sent his foot out between mine. Hooking my ankle, he pushed and I went down to the floor.

  He straddled me, shoving the mitts against my gloves. “Who. Hit. You!”

  I tried to dislodge him, but he used his weight to keep me prone.

  “Who!?”

  “Jake Sutton,” I yelled. “Jake fucking Sutton. All right?”

  “Why?” he demanded just as loudly.

  My gut churned and I groaned when Boone materialized in the doorway.

  I clenched my jaw against the howl boiling up in my chest.

  “Because Brax crossed the line. Didn’t you?” Boone said, walking over and squatting down, shoving my phone in my face. Fuck, I’d set it down when I was looking at the tuxes. River’s text was prominently displayed: I’m all wet, but caught a ton of mudbugs. Still at it. Will text when finished.

  “Kee-rist!” Booker said with disbelief. “I think Hell just froze over.” He looked at me like there might be hope for me after all, but he was sorely mistaken.

  “You want to know where I was last night? I was fucking River Pearl in her bed, in her fucking house. Want to know how it felt? Fucking amazing. When I got up this morning, I fucked her again.”

  I had to make them see there was nothing between us. So why did I feel sick, and my chest feel so heavy, and it was hard to catch my breath? Control, I breathed. Control, and I reacted as I always did. I let the anger rule me. It felt comfortable and familiar. Not alien like all these emotions getting tangled up in my throat. And, for the first time there was fear. A sickening, I-need-to-run-as-far-and-as-fast-away-as-I-can, fear.

  “Get off me,” I bucked and twisted until Booker rolled free. I tucked one of my gloves under my armpit and pulled it off, snatching the phone out of Boone’s hand.

  “I don’t need you guys in my personal business. I’m sure you have enough of your own to mind.”

  “Right, like you minded your own when I was losing my shit over Aubree or Boone was agonizing over Verity?”

  “Those times were different.”

  “Why? Because it wasn’t you? Because you’re so closed up and angry all the time? Never letting yourself have what you want? Braxton, don’t be so narrow-minded.”

  “I’m not narrow-minded. I’m a realist.”

  Booker rose and snorted, spreading his arms. “You need all this equipment to keep yourself from exploding. Let it go is what you need to do.”

  “Don’t feed me your Zen bullshit, Booker. Why don’t you two take a hike?”

  When they looked at each other in resignation, I knew I had won, but there was no satisfaction. “This doesn’t mean you can’t call us if you—”

  “I don’t need anything,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  They went out the door and I sank down to the floor. Looking at my phone and trying not to get all gooey the way her personality came through even in a text.

  I felt the hunger, the devastating hunger always eating at me when I thought of her. Hell, I should have fucked her back in high school. Fucked her and hurt her and been done with it. Just like that I was hard as a rock.

  All because I wanted what I couldn’t have.

  I wanted the Princess, but I was only the damned frog and Suttontowne was the gig.

  I should never have kissed her. It had been a stupid move. It was the beginning of a potholed journey along the road to ruin. It wasn’t me I was worried about. It wouldn’t be my ruin. I was already damaged and broken.

  I shut off my phone and slid it over to the wall. Slipping on the glove, I danced over to the bag. It was my only salvation.

  I’d be damned if I would take her down with me.

  Chapter Eleven

  River Pearl

  After showering again and changing into a halter top and denim cutoffs, I sat cross-legged on my bed and pulled the letters to me. I set my phone on the nightstand so when Brax texted me back I would hear it.

  I went back to the letter, the first one Duel wrote to his future wife. It was so short, so sweet. I wondered how Amy felt when she received it. Tantalized and intrigued? It was obvious she came from the same background I did. Wealth and privilege. And Duel had been a waiter. Eerily like Brax and me, only Brax owned his restaurant and bar.

  Duel’s second letter was just as sweet. Telling her how beautiful she was, how his heart was light whenever he saw her. What I wouldn’t give for Brax to open up to me that way, tell me what he felt.

  I set down the letters and pulled the box of ledgers toward me. Taking out the first one, I started to carefully page through. Some of the ink was faded but still legible. I marveled how well these had been preserved. I learned Duel kept track of everything, especially after he opened the store in what would become Suttontowne. I learned the original name of the town was Rumsf
ord. But after the Colonel became involved and had done so much for everyone, it was renamed to Suttontowne in 1890.

  As fascinating as it was to see how many shovels Duel had sold, I set that ledger aside to pull out the last two before he was hanged. As I skimmed down the neat columns in his precise handwriting, I noticed he let someone borrow a mare. Interesting, because it didn’t look like he’d ever let anyone else take a horse. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make out who the horse had been loaned to.

  Something tickled my memory. Something I’d read in the Colonel’s journal. I think there was something in there about a mare. I would check in a minute. I moved on and, as I got to the end of the columns and the day he was executed, I paused. The date and time of every transaction was listed. I looked again carefully, and checked it against the time of the robbery and murder…this was strange…he was in the store when it was supposed to have happened. At least according to the ledger.

  I sat back. How was it possible for him to enter transactions when he wasn’t even supposed to be there?

  He couldn’t have. No one could be in two places at once. What if the townspeople had made a mistake? Braxton had said Duel was hanged outside of town without due process. I would have to ask him for more details next time I saw him.

  When I heard a creak on the floor, I looked up to see Jake standing there. Coming out of my reading fog, I looked at my phone. It had been an hour and Brax hadn’t texted me back. Strange.

  “What are you doing?”

  I stiffened. His voice was…challenging. I looked up at him and saw his distress. “Reading some old letters and ledgers.”

  He snatched one and his mouth dropped open. “Is this from Duel Outlaw!? Why are you reading this crap?”

  “It’s for my speech. I’m researching some stuff. Why do you care?” Then I saw his hand. His knuckles were scraped. A sick feeling curled in my gut. “What did you do?”

  “What did you do?” he said, accusation thick in his voice.

  “You know.”

  He dropped his head and pushed the door until it almost closed. “I guessed, then I found his bike. I waited for him.”