Perfectly Charming (A Morning Glory Novel Book 2)

by Liz Talley

  “I don’t have to, do I? Eden’s not bringing anyone, is she?”

  “Just Henry, but he was invited anyway. He’s my cousin.”

  “I know. And Benton?”

  There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, Jess, but I have to invite him. His family has been our family’s friends forever. Lydia was in my mother’s wedding, and they’re still thick as thieves. Benton and I played in the sprinkler together when we were two years old. We vacationed together at Seaside for five years. And don’t freak out, but Lydia is singing at the wedding. It was the one concession I made to my mother.”

  “Oh God,” Jess groaned. “Tell me she’s not doing ‘Ave Maria.’”

  “No. She’s going to sing ‘Loving You.’”

  “Never heard of it.”

  Rosemary sighed. “It’s an Elvis song, but that doesn’t matter now. You have to understand, my mother is so pissed at me. I’ve already told her about serving Italian at the reception and having an open bar. She said it was profane. So I can only drop so many bombs on her each day.”

  “God,” Jess groaned. “You’re not making this sound attractive. Is Benton bringing a date?”

  “Maybe. We’re not asking for a RSVP. Too short of notice. Invites went out two days ago.” Again, Jess could hear the apology in Rosemary’s voice. Her friend’s mother made Sherman’s march through the South look like a freaking picnic. The woman rolled over anyone who got in her way … one of the reasons she’d never liked Jess. Of course, Patsy Reynolds didn’t like Eden, either—wrong side of the tracks and all that.

  Shit. Jess wasn’t certain she could get off for her best friend’s wedding, which would suck, but she wasn’t certain it would suck more than showing up single at a wedding where her ex-husband would be sitting with some big-boobed plaything of the week. It would be humiliating. If Eden planned on going as a single, Jess wouldn’t feel so bad. But that she’d asked Henry to be her date meant Jess needed a date, too. She just couldn’t show up looking … lonely.

  But she couldn’t see Ryan agreeing to be her plus one. Labor Day weekend meant he’d be booked. And the biggest reason would be the hugest hurdle—the man hated Morning Glory.

  But who else could she take as a date?

  Maybe Chris Haven. He’d moved back to Morning Glory a few months back. Unfortunately, he did a disservice to most gay guys by having the fashion sense of Queen Elizabeth II. Still, the man loved a good wedding and wouldn’t paw her on the dance floor. He could be a possibility. Or maybe she could hire a date? Like in one of those zany romantic comedies Debra Messing liked to star in. Or she could beg Ryan. Because the thought of Benton dancing with a Dixie Cream worker (rumored to be his newest conquest) made Jess want to barf. Besides, Ryan would look incredible in a suit. If he wore seersucker and a bow tie, he could make most of the Kappa Kappa Gammas who’d no doubt show up to watch their former vice president of pledge education get married spontaneously combust. He would be the perfect date … if she could talk him into it.

  That was a big if and a tall order, since their relationship was very loose in structure.

  “I’ll get back with you tomorrow, Rose. I can’t make promises, but God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’ll be there when you wed your sweetie.”

  “Thank you, Jess. Oh, and I’m making the bridesmaids’ dresses. Vintage 1950s cocktail dresses. I bought the hot-pink satin years ago not knowing what I’d do with it, and it’s going to make the smartest dresses. Thankfully, I already had your measurements from the Halloween costume I made last year, so no worries there.”

  Vintage satin cocktail dresses? So Rosemary. “Sounds pretty.”

  “I have this whole ’50s theme I’m doing. Sal hired an Elvis impersonator for the reception. We saw him when we went to Memphis last weekend.”

  “Let me guess, you haven’t told Patsy yet.”

  “God, no. And we’re not telling her. She thinks Holly Bryson’s quartet is playing, so don’t breathe a word. Oh my God, I’m getting married in a few weeks. Can you believe?”

  Jess smiled and rose, stretching on her toes, working the kink out of her neck. She’d banged it on the headboard the night before. Full-fledged sex injury. “Actually I can. You deserve this. I can’t wait to wear pink satin and dance to ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’ Wait, we’re not wearing those, are we?”

  “No, silly. I am.” Rosemary laughed. “See you soon. I pray.”

  “’Bye, Rose.”

  Jess hung up and walked back into the house, noting Morgan coming up the walk next door. She waved at the normally happy brunette. Morgan didn’t wave back.

  “Okay,” Jess muttered and walked back into the condo.

  Ryan had reported Morgan and his friend had gone out several times and seemed to be embarking on their own romance. Even if that were true, Morgan still hadn’t forgiven her for stealing Ryan. Which was a shame, because Jess had liked Morgan when she wasn’t being possessive. But it didn’t matter if her neighbor didn’t like her. Jess had only one more week at the Dirty Heron before she had to vacate. The realty company had found her another couple of places that might work, but Jess had yet to choose one. None seemed as perfect as where she now lived. Of, course that could have to do with the fact Ryan lived a hop, skip, and jump away.

  An hour and a half later, Jess had takeout from Little China on Ryan’s table and wine chilling in the fridge, and she wore a pretty sundress that showed plenty of cleavage. After having talked Becky into covering for her, promising to bring her cupcakes and lunch for a week and take her shift for the following weekend, Jess was set to spend Labor Day weekend in Morning Glory. All that was left was to do was persuade her stud muffin to accompany her.

  “No way,” Ryan said, sipping the buttery chardonnay and setting the glass down. “I’d rather have my balls waxed than go to Morning Glory. And for a wedding?” He shivered and made a face.

  “But it’s for Rosemary. You always liked her, right?” Jess looked plaintive, but not plaintive enough to budge him.

  “Sure. I guess. She never really talked to me other than to boss me around when doing the yearbook spread. I knew I shouldn’t have joined that club. My mother insisted I needed to have at least one other activity other than chess club. I thought being a photographer would be interesting, studying the contrast in color and medium. I forgot I’d have to actually go to events and work under a very … uh, exacting editor. So if you want to call tolerating her liking her, then I guess I liked her even if she didn’t appreciate artistry in photography.”

  Jess’s eyes sparkled, reminding him of a honey tigereye stone he’d bought at a museum once. “You tried to bring artistry to taking the group picture of the Future Farmers of America?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Even farmers deserve good bounce lighting.”

  Her laughter made his heart warm. “Bounce lighting? You actually brought a screen?”

  “My mother’s bedsheet.”

  Jess clutched her stomach and nearly choked on her lo mein. “Oh my gosh, I don’t remember Rose saying anything about that. That’s hilarious.”

  “And this is why I don’t want to go back. I was weird. That’s what people will remember.”

  Rosemary’s eyes traveled over him. “Uh, dude. That’s not what people are going to be thinking about when they see you. You’re the quintessential nerd grown into a successful, gorgeous man. You can totally thumb your nose, give the bullies the comeuppance they deserve, and, bonus, you get to see your mom and dad.”

  “They don’t want to see me.” That much was obvious. They’d made a halfhearted plea for him to come home for the annual Easter egg hunt, which they rarely attended on account of it being a pagan ritual. Sometimes he wished his parents were just normal. That they insisted he come home or bundled up their practical holiday gifts and drove to see him. That they didn’t make a point to be so … clinical.

  Jess made a frowny face. “Uh, yeah, they do. All parents want to see their children. Well, most. Your parents may not understand
your decision, but you’re their child. Do you think they don’t love you?”

  Ryan felt something shut down inside him. He didn’t want to talk about his parents and the way they made him feel. Which was pretty much like he was a freak of nature. They’d emphasized his exceptional abilities rather than helping him assimilate in a town that appreciated sameness. His father had hailed from Massachusetts, from a liberal family of researchers and educators, and thus wasn’t versed in being southern. As such, Emilio pushed broader thinking and the exploration of intellectual capacity and experimented with alternative child rearing. Ryan had felt like something in a petri dish his entire life. Had his parents loved him when he was a child? He thought they had, but it had never been in the way the other kids had been loved, with their crustless sandwiches and T-ball shirts emblazoned with “Hunter’s Mom.”

  “Of course they love me, but I’m not interested in going back to show off my abs and play nice with people who viewed me as an oddity. It’s hard to explain how daunting that sounds. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I do. I know things were tough on you, but you’ve changed. You’re a confident man. Please consider it,” she said, not in a teasing way. But with quiet desperation in her voice. Her pretty tiger eyes deepened, and he could see exactly what she felt. Such a longing for him to be beside her, and that moved him a few inches toward agreeing. But not far enough.

  “Jess,” he said, sliding his hand across the table to capture hers. “I really, really would rather have my testicles waxed. I’d make the appointment right now if it meant I didn’t have to go to a wedding with you in Morning Glory. It would be torturous for me.”

  “No. People won’t even remember you. Not really. We all grow up and change.”

  “You didn’t change. You’re still the same. Beautiful.”

  “I changed. Or maybe I didn’t, and that was the problem. But I feel different now,” she said, caressing his hand. In her face he could see the honesty in her words.

  “I’m glad you feel different, but I don’t feel like I have anything to prove, and I have no good reason to go back there.”

  “Not even me?” she said softly.

  Damn. She didn’t pull punches. His heart or something inside him moved another few inches toward caving. “I’m sorry, Jess.”

  Jess curled her fingers around his. “It’s okay. I respect the way you feel.”

  “Thank you.” Relief flooded him. She understood how hard it was for him to go back to a place where he felt so diminished. This was what he loved—no, liked—about Jess. She was sensible and kind and—

  “I’ll go alone. I mean, I shouldn’t be so insecure, right? It’s pretty weak to feel like it would be easier to face Benton and whatever date he brings with you beside me.”

  “Is that what this is about? Benton?”

  Jess set her fork down and looked out the double glass doors where the bay awaited twilight. “Maybe a little. For the past year I lived afraid to run into him around every corner. But even worse than running into him was running into the woman he left me for at places like the salon or at the grocery store. And you know what’s the absolute worst? The pity in her eyes. She felt sorry for me even as she scurried away like a guilty rat. At times I felt like I couldn’t breathe. So, yeah, taking you with me would help me feel less like a loser. You’re pretty damn hot.”

  “So you want to use me?” he teased even as part of him wondered if that’s all he was to her—just a good-looking guy to have sex with and prove to Benton and everyone else she was doing fine. Something inside him wanted to be more than arm candy. Didn’t she feel anything for him other than desire?

  William H. Macy, he was turning into a girl, wondering about feelings. He and Jess were exactly as advertised—they had fun in the sack. And they had fun out of it. They were friends and lovers. End of story. No complications need apply.

  “No, I’m not using you. I want to use you, but you said no.” She tried to smile, but the warmness didn’t reach her eyes. They remained cloudy. Uncertain. Full of something he didn’t want to see.

  He watched her as she pushed the food around on her plate. For the past few days she’d been eating like a horse. She’d remarked once that she’d lost the taste for food after she and Benton split, but with Ryan she’d been making up for lost time devouring a couple of pints of ice cream, pizza, and homemade waffles. He’d had to cut back on indulging because he didn’t want to spend extra time in the gym when going daily was already such a chore. Still, he’d noted the hollows of her hip bones and the outline of her bottom ribs. Jess needed to eat and not worry about silly things like what folks in Morning Glory thought of her. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

  Her gaze jerked up. “You will?”

  “Think about it. I’m not saying yes.”

  “But you’re not saying no.”

  “I am saying no, but I’m willing to play around with the idea of withdrawing my no and replacing it with an okay. A full-force yes is not an option.”

  “Thank you. Seriously, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he warned.

  “Don’t worry. Going home for a few days will be easier than you think. You don’t have to attend anything you don’t want to. Just the wedding and the reception,” she said, picking up her fork again. Jess’s eyes reflected relief and excitement. Damn it. She could probably talk him into hula-dancing lessons or getting a pedicure. Jess possessed remarkable power of persuasion in those expressive eyes … and in her delicious body.

  “Wait, what else is there?” he asked.

  “Let’s see. I’m sure there’ll be a bachelorette party, bridal tea, and rehearsal dinner. I, of course, will probably have to get my hair and makeup done, but you don’t have to worry about all that. Do you have a suit?”

  “Uh, no.” He’d owned exactly one sports coat for interviews. It was brown corduroy with patches on the sleeves. His mother had picked it out. The day he’d cut off all his khaki pants and ordered a bunch of Hawaiian shirts, he’d bundled it and his striped dress shirts off to Goodwill, swearing he wouldn’t wear a suit until he got married. In like ten or twenty years.

  “That’s okay. I saw an ad for an end-of-season clearance at Dillard’s. They always have suits on sale. Oh, you know, you’d look amazing in seersucker … with a bow tie. Have you ever worn suspenders?” Now her eyes had an almost manic look. It reminded him of the way her friend Rosemary had been all those years ago as the yearbook editor. Very managing. “It will be so much fun to dress you, Ryan.”

  “Suspenders and a bow tie?” He tried to hide his repulsion. “You do realize I’m trying to shed the nerd image, so please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Oh no. I was thinking southern gentleman, not Urkel.”

  Dear God. He hadn’t even agreed to accompany her, and she was planning his wardrobe for the weekend. The whole idea made him itchy, like he needed to loosen a collar even though he was wearing a V-neck T-shirt.

  He knew what he felt, because he’d read several books about relationships. Smothering was a common complaint for a lot of guys. The number-one reason most relationships failed was financial issues. The second was an imbalance of power and lack of communication. A man could take a bossy woman for only so long, and since Ryan wasn’t officially in a relationship with Jess, he certainly didn’t need her trying to take over his life. “I don’t need you to dress me, Jess.”

  She stopped the mental shopping in her head. “What?”

  “I’m not your husband.”

  She looked stricken. “Oh God. I know that. I wasn’t trying to … I mean, I thought I could make it easier for you to come with me. You know, ’cause guys don’t like shopping.”

  “I’m grateful you’re excited about helping me pick out a suit for a wedding I might not attend, but I am capable of shopping for myself. I spend a good deal of time reading GQ.” Which he secretly didn’t care for, but if he wanted to keep up with current trends, it was a go-to guide.


  “But GQ isn’t exactly southern couture,” she said her voice trailing off. “Oh crap, you’re right. It’s a fault of mine, getting super-focused on something. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  He waved his hand and stared down at his beef and broccoli. He felt like an asshole and didn’t know how to fix the sudden tension. “No worries.”

  She set her fork down and pushed her chair back. “I made brownies. You want one?”

  Ryan felt the air thicken even more and wished he could erase the last few things he’d said. Why had he said he wasn’t her husband? The words had flown past his lips before he could think better of it. Absolute wrong thing to say. Damn it. Relationships were hard. Caring about someone tossed a whole new ball into the game … a game he’d never played. This was why he had engaged in casual sex. No strings. No effing shopping for a suit for a wedding. He pushed back his chair and stood, meeting her as she headed toward the kitchen. “Look, I’m sorry.”

  She brushed his hands away. “No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, you were trying to help me out. I get it. And I shouldn’t have read something into it. I’m not used to being in a relationship.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?” she asked, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze.

  God, that was what they were doing. Temporarily, but, yeah, what they had was the definition of being in a relationship.

  “I think so.” No way he could deny it. In a relationship. Perhaps he could put that on his Facebook status. If he ever checked it again. The only social media he bothered with was Instagram, ’cause that was as easy as taking a picture.

  “I’m sorry for allowing my control issues to jump out of the gate with the suit thing, but I can’t be sorry for wanting you to go with me. I need you there. This is me being vulnerable, something I’ve been too much of lately, but at least I’m honest. I don’t want you to go with me merely because you’re gorgeous and will get more than a few second looks. I want you beside me because even though I’m starting to feel more myself again, I’m still not the Jess I want to be. But something about you makes me steady.” Jess caught his hands and held them firm. Maybe she hadn’t meant it as coercion, but those last words and the way she squeezed his fingers in an innocuous plea worked.