Bohemian Girl (Southern Girl Series Book 1)

by Georgia Cates

  Still inside me, he kisses the side of my neck and traces the pads of his fingertips in circles over my shoulder and upper arm. “What fragrance are you wearing?”

  “It’s a mixture of essential oils—a potion for seduction.”

  He sniffs the space behind my ear. “You smell fucking delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  After he’s had his fill of smelling me, he pulls out of me slowly and sits on the side of the bed. I hear the snap of wet latex and then he lies down beside me. I scoot closer when he reaches for me, and I place my head against his chest. With my leg tossed over his body and his arm wrapped around my shoulder and upper back, we surely must resemble two vines entwining around each other.

  I place a kiss against his chest and he returns the gesture against the top of my head. “I came for you.”

  I came for you. Those are the words that I’ve longed to hear since he arrived, but I didn’t realize what they’d mean to me if he actually said them.

  He didn’t come for business. He came for me. That makes me feel incredibly special. Wanted. And happy.

  “I’m glad you came.” I’m also glad we missed out on that night in Birmingham a month ago. It gave him a whole month to think about me.

  I lie quietly against his chest until my phone alerts me to a new text. “Uh, I do not feel like getting up to see who that is.”

  “I’ll get it for you. It could be important.”

  He pulls away and scoots to the edge of the bed. I shamelessly ogle his ass as he crosses the room to get my bag from the table.

  What a delicious specimen of a man. And he’s mine for the weekend. Mmm, lucky me.

  “Thank you.” I sit up and take my phone from my bag.

  Oliver: Mom’s cooking breakfast in the morning. I brought Lucas to town with me and she wants him to come too. Can you go by the Bohemian Hotel and pick him up at 8?

  “You have an invitation to breakfast at my parents’ house in the morning.”

  “That’s nice of them to invite me.”

  “They want us to come around eight.”

  “Eight o’clock is going to roll around early if we fool around all night like I planned.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to go tired. I’m not giving up sex for sleep.”

  “You are my dream woman. Marry me.”

  “Okay, sure. My brother will totally go along with that.”

  Lawrence: Sure. I can pick up Lucas on my way.

  Oliver: Thanks. See you in the morning.

  I place my phone on the nightstand and lie on Lucas’s chest again. “Well, that couldn’t have worked out better if we’d planned it ourselves.”

  Lucas’s phone buzzes. “I guess we know who that is.”

  He reaches over and reads his message aloud. “You’re invited to breakfast at my parents’ in the morning. My sister is coming to get you at eight.”

  I hear a swoosh after Lucas thumbs a response. “Invitation accepted.”

  “Do you think it will be hard to be around each other in front of them and pretend we didn’t have sex and spend the night together? I’m not the best actress. I’ll probably look at you and break into a freshly fucked grin.”

  “If we’re going over there at eight, then technically we’d need to have morning sex for you to be considered freshly fucked.”

  “I’m up for morning sex. The question will be if you are up for it?”

  “I’m sure that I can be up for it.”

  “Are you up for it again now or is it too soon?”

  “Why don’t you tell me if I’m ready for more.”

  I move my hand down and find the tip of his cock at his belly button. Hard as a rock and no less impressive despite the short period of time since we had sex.

  An illusory bell sounds in my head. Round two.

  13

  Lucas Broussard

  Oliver meets us at the door and Lawrence whirls into his arms. “I’ve missed you, jerk face.”

  He spins her around and kisses her cheek. “It’s only been a month.”

  “Yeah, but I only saw you for a few hours. Before that, it had been months since you came home.”

  “Well, I’m here now, you damn hippie.”

  Lawrence plants a big kiss on Oliver’s cheek before he releases her. “I’m going to see if Mom needs help with breakfast.”

  Lawrence flutters away, not giving me a second glance. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t watch her as she walks away.

  Last night was incredible. We fucked three times before falling asleep and then again this morning before we showered. I can’t remember ever having a better night with a woman.

  Oliver punches my arm. “You look tired. Did you not sleep?”

  I shake my head, clearing the memory of last night. “I never sleep well in a hotel.”

  “Maybe tonight will be better.”

  I’m certain it will be. “Knock on wood.”

  “I hope it’s cool that I sent my sister to pick you up.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s fine. Lawrence is an interesting girl.”

  “I know you must think that she’s into some really weird stuff—and don’t get me wrong, she is—but my sister’s pretty awesome.”

  “You don’t have to convince me that Lawrence is awesome. I saw that when she was in Birmingham.”

  “Lucas Broussard, you’d better get yourself in here and see me right now.”

  Libby Thorn. Since the day I met her, she’s treated me like a son.

  Oliver shoves my shoulder. “You’d better get in there and see her before she comes looking for you.”

  Mrs. Thorn wipes her floured hands on her apron and comes to me for a hug. “It’s so good to see you again, Lucas.”

  “Thank you for the breakfast invitation.”

  She releases me and turns to Oliver. “How’d you finally talk the Cajun into coming to Savannah?”

  Oliver shrugs. “It was all his idea.”

  “Well, we are very happy to have you.”

  “You have a beautiful home.”

  “I guess we like it pretty well since we’ve been here thirty years.”

  What a great place for Lawrence and Oliver to grow up, at least after their adoption. Which reminds me—I wonder what happened with her birth mother about the kidney transplant. I need to ask her about that later.

  “Come on, Mr. Thorn. Breakfast is going on the table.”

  I smile when I hear Mrs. Thorn call her husband Mr. Thorn. It reminds me of my own parents.

  Quentin Thorn comes into the kitchen and meets me halfway for a handshake.

  “Good to see you, Lucas.”

  “And you, sir. Thank you for having me.”

  Lawrence and Mrs. Thorn move bowls of food from the counter to the table. “You should be staying here instead of that hotel.”

  “I didn’t want to put you out.”

  “You wouldn’t be putting anyone out. In fact, you should check out and stay here the next two nights.”

  Oh no. I’m having too much fun and too much sex to leave that hotel room.

  Lawrence’s eyes catch mine and her lips wrap around her teeth as she works to suppress her laughter. “Maybe next time since I’m all settled into my room.”

  Mrs. Thorn points at me and smiles. “I’m going to hold you to that, young man.”

  The spread of food on the table looks as though it could feed a dozen people. “I hope you’re hungry. I cooked plenty.”

  “I see that you did.”

  Bowls circle the table counterclockwise. “I have one who won’t eat meat and everything must be organic, another one who won’t touch sweets for breakfast, and then a third on a strict low-sodium diet. It’s hard to come up with one menu that will fit all those needs.”

  I don’t get a home-cooked meal like this very often. “I’m not on any kind of diet so I’m having some of everything.”

  Mrs. Thorn holds out a plate of pastries covered in powdered sugar. “Beignets
for our Louisiana boy.”

  “These look so good. Thank you. I haven’t had a beignet since my last trip to Louisiana.” I grew up with Cajun and French food all around me. I didn’t really know how good it was or how much I would miss it until I moved to Birmingham.

  “Cafe au lait?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I bite into the beignet, and it’s almost like being home. “Not everyone can make a good beignet but these are delicious.”

  Lawrence smiles and points to the corner of her lower lip. “You’ve got a little powdered sugar there.”

  I flick my tongue out and taste the sweetness. “Did I get it?”

  She grins and looks down at her plate. “Yeah.”

  “So, flower child. Mom says you have a new boyfriend.”

  A new boyfriend?

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  Lawrence’s head jerks around in Oliver’s direction. “I do not.”

  “So Mom’s lying?”

  Lawrence sighs. “We’ve been out a couple of times but he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “But you like him?” Oliver asks.

  “He’s a nice guy.”

  Way to avoid answering the question.

  “Are you going out with him again?”

  Thank you for asking that, Oliver. Inquiring minds want to know.

  She shrugs and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

  Again.

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  “Has this guy asked you for a third date?”

  “Yeah. I was supposed to see him after work last night. Something came up and I canceled.”

  She didn’t mention a word about having plans with any other guy. When did she cancel?

  “You don’t have to be so pissy about it, Lawry. I was only asking because I care and because I don’t want you going out with losers who’ll hurt you.”

  “I’ve met him, Oliver. I can vouch that he’s a very nice man,” Mrs. Thorn says.

  She’s introduced this guy to her parents? No one does that unless it’s serious. What the fuck is going on?

  “What does this guy do for a living? Is he into the same kind of stuff as you?” Oliver asks.

  Lawrence looks at me and then Oliver. “He owns the restaurant on the corner next to my shop. It specializes in organic and vegan dishes.”

  This guy knows all about organic and vegan stuff. Great. I’m sure they have all kinds of bohemian shit in common. Unlike her and me.

  “They grow their own herbs and use only fresh local ingredients. Isn’t that a nice way to support the local farmers?” Mrs. Thorn asks.

  Oliver chuckles. “Sounds like the perfect granola guy for you.”

  Lawrence shrugs and uses her fork to push around the food on her plate. It’s her only reply.

  Until last night, I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in a month. She was completely free to do as she wished. I had no kind of claim on her, but things feel different after last night. I don’t want her to be with granola guy.

  It bothers the fuck out of me that she’s been seeing someone else. I don’t like it worth a damn.

  “Where do you plan on taking Lucas today?” Mr. Thorn asks.

  “Actually, I was going to talk to Lawrence about giving him a tour since she’s the one who knows the area’s history. I thought that when you finish the tour, we might meet for drinks over at the Distillery. They have a ton of craft beer. I’d like to do a tasting since I’m trying to come up with ideas for next winter’s seasonal. It’s never too early to start brainstorming.”

  “A tasting sounds like a good idea.” It could help us narrow down the choices.

  “What time do you want to meet up?” Finally, she has something to say. I thought she’d lost her tongue there for a minute.

  “Eight o’clock sound okay?” Oliver asks.

  “Yeah. I should have time to show him most of the high points.”

  “Are you doing your Sunday girls’ trip to Tybee Island?”

  “We were planning on it but that was before I knew you were coming.”

  “Care if Lucas and I crash the girls’ trip?”

  Lawrence grins. “I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

  “Lawrence has some hot-ass friends.”

  Maybe so but they’re nothing compared to her.

  Mr. Thorn is the first to push away from the table. “Wonderful as always, Lib.”

  Lawrence slides away next. “I’ll help you clear the table and load the dishwasher.”

  “No, honey. You should get an early start with Lucas. I have all day to clear this.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Breakfast was delicious, especially the beignets.”

  “So glad you enjoyed it, Lucas.”

  Neither of us say anything as we walk to Lawrence’s car. The doors are barely shut when she turns to face me, her eyes piercing mine. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “But he’s something to you.” And I hate that.

  “We’ve gone out a couple of times since Birmingham.”

  I should have contacted her. Shit.

  “You didn’t hear from me after Birmingham. I get it. There’s no reason that you shouldn’t have gone out with him. But I don’t have to be happy about it. And I’m not.” There. I admit it.

  “I canceled with him last night so I could be with you.”

  Had I not come to Savannah, she would have been with him instead of me.

  Sure, she canceled with granola guy, but that only makes me feel like I won her for the night. He can have her back after I’m gone.

  “Have you fucked him?” I’ll be sick if she says yes.

  “No.”

  Good. I want to keep it that way.

  I glide my hand over and curl it around hers. “I really want to kiss the fuck out of you right now.”

  She looks at her house and then at me. “And I really wish you could kiss the fuck out of me right now.”

  “Don’t go out with him anymore.” I might as well be honest with her about the way I feel if I’m to keep her out of his bed. “And don’t fuck him. For me. At least until we know what this is.”

  “Okay.”

  Her pledge satisfies me. For now.

  “Any idea what you’d like to see in Savannah today?”

  Sure do. “You in my bed naked.”

  Lawrence shakes her head and laughs. “You’ve already seen that once today.”

  “I could go for some more of it.” Like all day long. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.

  “You’ll get more of me tonight—the after-drinks me. That should be fun.”

  “I like the before-drinks and after-drinks you.” And everything in between.

  Lawrence pulls her Wagoneer onto the road. “I think we’ll skip the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. You’ve probably seen St. Louis Cathedral a bazillion times so it probably wouldn’t feel a lot different.”

  “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen it although it’s been a while.”

  I need to make a trip home to see my grandparents soon. Babette and Pops aren’t getting any younger.

  “Would you be terribly upset if I cheated and took you on the historic on/off bus tour. I think it would be more fun than getting in and out of my car all day, especially since it’s so hot. And I’d like to enjoy sitting and talking with you rather than driving around the city squares.”

  “That works for me.”

  “We can hop off the bus if something interests you and get back on when we finish.”

  I rub my thumb over the top of her hand. “I have the only attraction I need sitting next to me right now.”

  “Are you trying to use your southern charm to woo me?”

  “Maybe. Is it working?”

  “Possibly.”

  Lawrence parks at the welcome center and we board a trolley bound for historic Savannah.

  “I’m surprised by how much Savannah reminds me of New Orleans. I
wasn’t expecting that.”

  “New Orleans isn’t a whole lot older than Savannah. Maybe fifteen years or so but we don’t have the melting pot of cultures like you have.”

  “Which are still very much alive. Your belief in the effects of oils, herbs, and stones would be highly accepted there.” She would fit right in.

  “Being an oddity doesn’t bother me. I don’t need to be accepted by closed-minded people to be happy.”

  No shit. “I gathered that.”

  I reach for her hand and intertwine our fingers. “Where do things stand with your biological mother and the transplant?”

  “I told her that I wasn’t doing it. She called multiple times every day for a week begging me to go through with it. Things got so bad that I had to stop answering the phone.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s called harassment.”

  “She doesn’t care if she kills my chances at having a baby one day. She told me I could adopt a kid if I wanted one.”

  Based on the things that Lawrence has told me about her mother, I’m not surprised by her response. Doesn’t sound like much has changed since Lawrence was a child.

  Lawrence moves our clasped hands to her lap and places her other on top. “I’m not sure she’s actually dying. I don’t think someone who is as sick as she claims to be would have the strength to harass me as much as she does.”

  “You think she’s healthier than she claims to be?”

  “I suspect that she may want the transplant because she’s tired of doing dialysis.”

  “You think she’d ask you to sacrifice that much so she’d no longer be inconvenienced?” Wow. That’s shitty.

  “The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve decided that I think she would do that to me. I mean, I believe she’s in renal failure and a candidate for transplant but not knocking on death’s door like she says. I think that was all a guilt trip to make me agree to do it.”

  The trolley comes to a halt. “This is your stop for Forsyth Park,” the driver announces over the speaker.

  “Let’s get off here so you can see the fountain. It’s an iconic symbol of Savannah so it’d be a shame for you to miss it.”

  We exit the trolley and she laces her fingers through mine. “I don’t know much about you. Who is Lucas Broussard?”