“You didn’t tell me you were collecting models these days.” Hogan ran his fingers through the top of his hair.
“And you didn’t tell me you were trying to get into the Mullet Hall of Fame, either,” Bull said. He leaned behind his friend to get a better look at the lengthier hair in the back. “I was trying to impress my date. My own hair was enough for her to deal with, and then you, my only friend at this…hoity-toity deal, comes up with a freakin’ mullet. Good goin’, Hog.”
“It’s not for real, man,” he whispered. “It’s a…challenge…and I’m not supposed to reveal that it’s a fundraiser thing anyway. Part of the program.” He shuffled nervously—something he couldn’t stop doing at these kinds of stuffy events. “You’re not going to evade me. The ladies?”
“I’ve been seeing April…or rather trying to see April since I got hooked up with this charity thing for that little boy with leukemia. Long story though,” Bull said as he put up two fingers at the bar. “Punch.”
“What about Jenna? She’s stunning,” Hogan said, trying to get Bull to dish.
Bull smiled and leaned back. “Look at Mr. Thorpe. All interested in a chick and got his mullet all in a twist.” Bull picked up the two drinks he ordered. “Good luck with that one. Don’t know much about her, except that she’s like a mother hen. Like, she tries to protect April all the time. Making my life…difficult.”
Hogan lowered his eyes and smiled. “I’d like to see what kind of protection she might possibly offer.” He chuckled. “Looks more like she might need protecting herself with how delicate she looks.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing. You won’t be protecting anyone in this room tonight with that Mullet-nator you’ve got going on back there.” Bull leaned around again and shook his head. “Hog, seriously?”
Hogan chuckled. “My…mullet is the least of my worries these days.”
Bull nodded. “I know. How’s everything going?”
“Business at the Harley dealership is great. Too great actually.”
“What about home?”
Hogan rubbed the back of his neck. “Not well. I can’t tell you how many teachers we’ve been through already. I’d do anything to—”
“Sorry, man,” Bull said. “Is she talking yet?”
Hogan closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“Well, you can get me Jenna’s number.” He also held up two fingers at the bar and said, “Same.”
Bull laughed. “Sorry, friend. I think you just killed your chances with the hairy party-in-the-back you’re sporting there.”
Hogan had been up against bigger things than a grow-it-for-charity mullet—a sort of No Shave November thing. In several weeks, it would be gone anyway. He could wait.
But he didn’t want to. In fact, he wanted to get back to Jenna as quickly as he could. He just needed to get those stupid drinks from Mr. Turtle behind the bar. They finally arrived. “I’ve got this,” he said and threw a fifty on the counter.
“Well, I need you to be my wing man tonight, okay? Don’t leave me alone, unless I say you can.” Someone nudged Hogan’s arm, nearly spilling his drink.
He was going to do this. Stay at this event with all the hob-snobbery going on, with all the hoopla and jockeying for social position. Anything at all to possibly get some advice or some help with things at home.
He grinned at the chick with too much make-up who was staring at him. He pushed past the guys from The First National Bank of Summerbrook, gossiping like little girls. He made his way over the creaking antique floors in the huge formal hall with sky-high ceilings and past a bevy of older beauties, showing off their latest acquisitions from local jewelry stores. The room reeked from a mixture of expensive perfumes, high-dollar colognes and shrimp. Lots of shrimp were obviously being consumed. Bacon wrapped shrimp. Shrimp tea sandwiches. Shrimp salad on water crackers. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was in Bayou La Batre.
Nothing was too difficult to face tonight, though. Heck, he’d dodge bullets in the room, if he had to…because he had a feeling about Jenna—because of her charity toward Ben, her education degree and her protectiveness of her friend. And he was seldom wrong about things like this.
⸙
Finally, Jenna’s mouth began to work again. She closed her eyes. “I don’t believe what I saw. Or did. Oh, fudge.” She looked around. “Dudley saw me.” She looked around at possible escape routes. “Heavens to Betsy, I’ve got to get out of here.” She opened her purse to take out her keys. She’d gotten really good at running away from trouble lately because dealing with it—on top of everything else—caused her too much stress.
April grabbed Jenna’s arm. “Oh, no, you’re not. Not until they have the raffle and the auction. You can leave with me then. You promised moral support. Remember?”
She remembered. She loved April like a sister and had been protecting her since childhood—except for Jenna’s little stint in Paris during her middle school years. “April, don’t get me wrong. Hogan’s cute and all. Fact was, for about half a second, I was about ready to run off into the night with him to check out the prizes outside.” She shook her head. “Until he turned around.” She opened her mouth like she was shocked.
“Well, I know I’m not the one to give a lecture on this kind of thing, but a few more minutes won’t—”
“Mrs. Legare from the dress shop sent me here to be all stylish and to represent Enjoliver. And look at me. Hanging out with people who look like roadies from one of those big hair bands from the eighties.
“Jenna Bellingham!”
“You know you’re not included.” Un, deux, trois, quatre. She shook her hands like it might help her think faster, more clearly. “Oh, fudge. Oh, fudge. Oh, fudge.” How was she going to make April understand? And get out of the building without dealing with Dudley? And without possibly being pressured to give out her number by this…dude with the redneck hairdresser?
“Jenna, I’m simply going to be frank. This…behavior…is why you’re losing your family’s plantation for them. You never take chances. Never think out the box. Don’t ever try new things. And when it comes to men, you’ve eliminated ninety-eight percent of guys from your life even before you give them a chance.”
The truth of what April said echoed in her chest. She exhaled part of the tension that was building inside her. “Well, I may as well eliminate them. If I don’t, my family will, or that stupid inheritance thing will. If I ever do date someone seriously, I actually need someone to assist me in figuring out how to save the plantation.”
“You don’t know that Hogan can’t.”
“Well, anyway, a guy like that could never get vetted. Do you realize what the board would say?” She craned her neck, trying to see if Dudley and Scarlet were looking, trying to see if Bull and Hogan were coming back to make things even worse. “I do. They’d say I was putting the plantation in jeopardy and that the man was probably interested in me for the land.”
Jenna was resigned. She ought to simply trot over to Dudley in her Louboutins and just give him the keys to the gates of DeBordieu Plantation. Now.
She could see the headline in the Summerbrook Ladies League Newsletter: Jenna Bellingham Relinquishes DeBordieu Plantation in Louboutin Heels.
What had she gotten herself into?
She was never going to live this one down.
Chapter Three
"The land belongs to the future."
~ Willa Cather
Hogan had fallen for cute chicks before. It was his Achilles’ heel. That was the beginning of the thing that had gotten him into such a deep mess at home right now. But Jenna had depth—something far more substantial going on than her platinum hair and expensive designer shoes. And though he couldn’t remember the name of the brand, he recognized the varnished red soles on them. Nine-hundred bucks or more. He’d seen his old credit card statements.
Still. He had learned from his mistakes. This
one was different, though she was doing a good job at trying to look the part of a Southern socialite. If she cared for her friend like Bull said, and she thought enough of the little boy to participate in this benefit, she had to have an empathetic heart. And to top it all off, she even had a degree in education and was tutoring Ben. She had all the qualities he needed to address his…problem at home. So, that left a serious dilemma. How was he going to get her number? Summerbrook wasn’t as small as it used to be, and he might not ever have the opportunity to see her again.
Maybe he’d impress her. He definitely had all the stats and toys to do that. But how?
He had to make an impression right now.
He stood behind Jenna and breathed in her hair. Mmmm. Citrus. He looked down and saw the smooth, pale skin that covered her slight shoulders. A stray curl dangled on the edge of her clavicle, and he wanted to help it over to join the others. What he really wanted to do was to touch her shoulders, inhale her hair, and get drunk off citrus. He didn’t want to feel this way, but he was drawn to her—like a rabbit to a garden.
She sipped on the drink he’d handed her earlier.
He bent down and whispered in her ear. “Let me know if you want more.”
She turned and took a step back. A polite I-don’t-know-you smile replaced the flirty one she’d worn earlier. “No thank you. I’ll be leaving after the announcements.”
What happened? Why the distance all of a sudden?
He guessed it was time to kick it into fourth gear.
“I’ll be interested to find out who won the brand new Harley Davidson motorcycle I donated for the raffle,” he said. That ought to impress her. He amazed girls all the time with his owning a motorcycle dealership—even though it wasn’t much more than a hobby to get him out the house and away from his troubles when he needed a break—when he needed to relieve stress. Anyway, it pretty much ran itself with the great guys he’d employed there. Owning the shop had some kind of cool factor attached to it, he supposed.
She took another step back. “The motorcycle? You donated the motorcycle?” Her eyes widened as she looked at her friend who was enthralled by something Bull was telling her.
“Yeah, I own Thorpe’s Custom Cycles. You should come down sometime and take a ride—with me.” He shuffled his feet. “I’d like to show you some of the new stuff in the showroom. In fact, we just got in this new chopper.”
A little sound escaped her, and then she dragged in a long, slow breath. She shook her head and looked about the room. “You don’t know much about the history of this town.” She leaned in slightly, making sure her friend was occupied. “Or about April, do you?”
He kept his voice low. “I don’t dabble in the local news much. What happened?”
“April and her father were in a bad accident with some guy in a motorcycle gang when she was a kid. Long story. Anyway, the gang ended up burning down half the town.”
“Shut my mouth,” he said under his breath. Great. And here he was trying to impress her with his motorcycle dealership. If she was half as protective about her friend as Bull said she was, he was really in for it because he put up the Harley for the raffle in front of the whole guest list at the Oaks Country Club. The way his luck was running tonight, Jenna would probably win the stupid thing.
“Hog,” Bull said. “They’re about to start.”
Yep. And Hogan was about to finish. With Jenna.
⸙
No. His name could not be Hog. She’d had enough of a hard time getting used to her friend hanging out with someone named Bull. Now Hog? And he owned a motorcycle dealership? And wore a mullet? Three strikes. Her family’s attorney and the trustees would laugh her out of town if she ever presented him as a potential board member. They’d never vote for someone like that to oversee DeBordieu, Inc., because of the stipulations in the trust. She was right to narrow her dating pool…to save Mr. Smithers—or rather, Mr. Slithers—that snake-in-the-grass attorney who was cavorting with Dudley—all the trouble. Good thing he wasn’t here tonight.
All Jenna had to do was to stick around until after the raffle, and she could make polite excuses and get the fudge out of the country club and back to the carriage house on the plantation. Where it was safe. And ordered.
She longed for the quiet lands that ran along the Ashley River, the old familiar roads and paths that crisscrossed the plantation, the clean air that blew across the marsh and through all the magnolia trees, lightly scenting her world with the huge white flowers. Home.
She inhaled slowly. Un, deux, trois, quatre.
She’d have to deal with April later. Her friend’s spiral out of her safe world was getting out of hand. Jenna had spent years running interference for April and protecting her, and she wasn’t going to stop now. But she had a few troubles of her own tonight. That put April on the back burner. For now.
She looked up at Hogan. Hog. If only he had a haircut. And a respectable business. And a more affluent name. Well, it would be a start. A perfect candidate would have money and an actual legitimate idea to save her home, the three-thousand acres on the Ashley, a huge plantation house, the elderly people who lived on it. And her parents.
Though her insides railed against it, she probably just needed to accept that she’d failed her family. In every way. As a child, she knew the mantle wasn’t to be entrusted to her. As a teenager, she pushed it aside and tried not to think about it. And as a young woman, though she tried, she was apparently incapable.
Their family had lived off trust fund money and the income her father made with his insurance business, but the trust fund was nearly dried up, and to continue at the helm of DeBordieu Plantation, she had to present a plan for sustainability to the board, or present a husband with enough money that it didn’t matter that she didn’t have a plan.
She threw back her head and closed her eyes. She’d had a different plan as a small girl. Well, she and April had the plan. Her brother would run the plantation. She and her best friend would get their college degrees and join the Ladies League together. Have grand weddings, little babies, and live happily ever after. That all sounded good when their rooms were decorated in Hello Kitty, but Hello Adulthood was a different story.
Jenna had not made a huge splash in the world. She’d toyed with a lot of things, but hadn’t really made a career out of any.
Maybe she should just give up.
But there were too many people depending upon her. She’d been tutoring Ben while he was ill, helping Miss Adree with groceries and doctors’ appointments since her health had failed, keeping April out of trouble, volunteering at the Ladies League when they had something worthwhile going on…and when she could stomach some of the more snooty girls who were merely there for the status. She’d even worked at the dress shop to keep herself busy in town and out of her solitary comfort zone in the carriage house. That had appeased her therapist greatly. And her mother.
All the while, she spoke to others who owned plantations like hers. She scanned history books about plantations in the South, trying to figure out a way to make the land turn a profit. Most everything she researched seemed to be unsuitable or one reason or another.
Her life may have looked silly and frivolous to others, but she knew better. She was trying to develop a plan for the land, and she was helping people. Really.
The people, though, who needed her help the most right now were her parents. And Jasper and Amberlee. The only way, however, that she could help them was not even remotely possible at this point. Maybe that was why she was filling her life with so many other charitable endeavors. She’d have to talk that over with Dr. Hacker at one of their sessions.
She glanced up at Hogan again and saw the same man she had at first seen, his longer locks camouflaged by his black suit. His eyes were also dark, his cheekbones high and his jaw strong. She inhaled deeply and then let all the air seep slowly out her body, along with all the hope that had been in it earlier.
The P.A. system squelched. On the stage was t
hat hostess from the entrance. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t trust that…that…female. All fake smiles and pretense, like some of the women at the Ladies League. Like she could be when she put up her defenses so that people wouldn’t get to know the real Jenna—caretaker of the meek and snake handler in designer shoes.
They made a few announcements from the stage, but Jenna didn’t pay much attention. She’d discovered a dimple in the bottom of Hogan’s chin when he’d lifted it to listen to the master of ceremonies. Wow. Why hadn’t she seen that before? He was really gorgeous. Regally gorgeous. The only man she had even been remotely attracted to in the last couple of years. And she’d been really attracted to Hogan for only a few minutes earlier. Until she’d seen the mullet and found out about the motorcycles. Not that she’d really had any personal fears about motorcycles. That was April’s gig. But motorcycles, mullets, and plantations didn’t mix. Not in the proper South—the South of heiresses and debutante soirees. No—not in the world she was duty-bound to uphold.
Speaking of April’s issues, she needed to pull herself out of her own concerns and stick close to her friend to ensure her safe exit from this room filled with so many triggers to April’s tragic past. If Jenna couldn’t help her parents or herself tonight, at least she could help her best friend.
The mic squelched again. “And the winner of the Harley Davidson is…April Church.”
Jenna nearly fainted. Then she heard April gasp. She turned to her friend. April was losing it. She couldn’t breathe. Jenna looked toward the stage and saw the motorcycle they had brought in through one of the tall French doors behind it. April had won that stupid thing, and she had no one to blame but Hogan. Hog.
Lights flashed as April stood traumatized in front of everyone at the Oaks Country Club. Jenna knew April was reliving the old motorcycle accident in her head. Her heart ached for her one true best friend. She couldn’t even protect April right now.
And it was all Hogan Thorpe’s fault.
⸙
Fireflies and Lies (A Summerbrook Novel Book 4) Page 3