A Perfect Dilemma

by Zoe Dawson

  Booker dragged me away from him. “Brax, use the code word, for fuck’s sake, so we can get through this.”

  “All right. I’ll use the goddamned code word.”

  “Wait, we need a reference for the code word.”

  Booker blew out a hard breath and walked over to Boone. He whispered in his ear and Boone’s face went slack.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. I won’t let her eat my…french fries.”

  Both of my brothers stood there in complete, dumbfounded silence. Then they looked at each other, then back at me like I was a science project they couldn’t seem to decipher.

  “Well, this was a waste of my time.” I turned to walk away and Booker grabbed my arm.

  “Wait.”

  Boone said, “Girls like french fries.”

  I rubbed my hand through my hair. I was itching to punch something, so I must not have changed completely. “I know they like french fries, and believe me I love them to love my french fries, but not her.”

  “Why not? Of course, she might not like french fries.”

  “No, she likes them.”

  “Then why are you being such a selfish bastard with your french fries?”

  “I don’t know. If I knew that, do you think I would be here subjecting myself to talking to you morons about a sexual act in french-fry terms?” I growled.

  “What is it about her giving head…uh, having your french fries, is bothering you?

  I winced. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “But it feels so amazing.”

  “I know, Boone. I’ve let girls have my…geezus…my french fries before. I know exactly how it feels.”

  “I have a theory.”

  “I have one, too, but I’ll let Booker go first.” Boone shifted and leaned against the counter, looking expectantly at my other brother “What is your theory, Book?”

  “You have been a control freak about this girl. There’s more here than simply…sex. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” I rasped, gritting my teeth.

  “It’s an intimate act, Brax. It means you have to kinda let go, trust the girl, and give yourself up to it. Maybe you’ve been so uptight about her, letting go makes you feel…weak. Which makes you shut down and gives you the weird feeling.”

  “I have been holding back from her for a long time.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And, you, Boone. What is your theory, God help me?”

  “I have some experience with this. The first time Verity went for my golden fried goodness…”

  Booker snickered, and I couldn’t help it. I did, too. Boone did crack me up.

  “Can I finish?”

  “Yes, by all means. Finish.”

  Which cracked us all up for another ten minutes. It was better than feeling completely humiliated.

  “Verity is the preacher’s daughter, and it’s exactly what I thought about her every step of the way until she went all girl on me and took me, literally, down to the mat. She was all over me and I started freaking out and pulling away. But I was also so turned on by her, even as I was going over and over in my head about how she was untouchable. That she would be doing something, I don’t know, sinful or wrong, somehow.

  “So, maybe this is about how you see River Pearl. She’s a princess in your eyes, and no one expects a princess to go to her knees. Maybe that’s your hang-up. Maybe you gotta see her for the passionate, beautiful, knock-out woman that she is, and let her freaking have your french fries, man. Let go of the illusion and, as Booker said, let go of your control, because, man, once she gets going, you ain’t keeping it. It could be a religious experience.”

  Which cracked us up again. And on that note, I shoved cookies in their hands and got them out of my house. I had some thinking to do, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to come up with, but I was certain it was going to be crazy, reckless—and it was going to change my life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Braxton

  I was still thinking it over while I drove to Lafayette two days later, and River Pearl still hadn’t responded to anything I’d sent. Part of me was angry, part of me was hurt, and the last part of me was a bit desperate.

  I’d even gone to her house, but her window had been closed, and I didn’t think sauntering up to the front door, ringing the fancy doorbell, and asking if she could come out and play was going to go over very well. I was close to doing it, but then I thought about her mutinous face when she left Outlaws, and her tough girl attitude, and it mollified me some.

  But a whole week without contact was driving me up the wall. Me. Braxton Outlaw, who couldn’t be bothered to run after any woman. Ever. When they were done with me, I was completely done with them. And as often as not, I was done first.

  But I didn’t think I’d ever be done with River Pearl.

  Ever.

  Which scared me down to my very soul. It would have been better not to know her…no, wait, that wasn’t true. I was a different guy because of her. But she had me so twisted up and turned around, I was still dizzy half the time.

  I was driving through the historic part of the city where some of the homes had been restored, showcased by everything from small, simple porches to large, elegant ones. It was how people lived through the steamy heat of the summers before air conditioning and electricity. A porch was and still is a place to visit with neighbors and friends, a place to keep the sun and rain off, and, above all, a place to enjoy your neighborhood. People used them daily and nightly.

  I’d just left the tux place, the suit wrapped up and lying across my front seat, when I saw her. She was walking up the sidewalk to a historical mansion. The house was noticeable because of its odd combination of Greek revival style with a two-storied deck supported by round columns, and Queen Anne Victorian, with a cone-topped tower or turret. It was exactly the kind of house that suited her Princess status.

  The black wrought iron fence had what looked like castle gates, in curved metal, with leaves and vines. I was so surprised, I braked hard in the middle of the street and horns blared. River’s head came up, and when she saw my truck, she stood there for a moment staring at me through the windshield. For a split second her expression wobbled, then she quickly masked all emotion, turning away.

  I completely panicked and pulled the truck over, awkwardly parking it against the curb. Jumping out, I crossed the small patch of lawn and hit the sidewalk at a run. I caught her right at the bottom of the steps, that one third of hurt turning into one hundred percent torture, gutting me.

  “River. What the hell is going on?”

  “I thought you made it clear,” she said, resisting my hand on her arm, refusing to turn toward me.

  “What? When?”

  “In the kitchen at Outlaws. You told me to go.”

  “To save you the scene with your daddy. I didn’t want you to go.” She took a step away and my panic went ballistic. “River, wait. I didn’t mean not to contact me. I just meant to go till things cooled down.”

  “It’s better this way, Brax,” she said, her voice flat and firm. “You were right. We were a disaster waiting to happen. I’ll be leaving soon, and you can go back to your life. It’s no big deal, right? It was only temporary.”

  I almost said out loud, What life? What kind of fucking life did I have without her? Oh, shit. This was bad. I was losing it. Losing it big time.

  Before I’d known her, it was easy to fuck and not give a shit, but she made me realize all the I-don’t-give-a-shits were a way to maintain a buffer between me and my emotions. Burying them was the only way to keep the fear at bay.

  But I was scared now. Truly scared of walking away and scared of staying. Scared with what I was feeling and what she wasn’t. Could I have been wrong about her vibes? I thought she wanted me for more…ah, shit, God. What the fuck was I going to do?

  I felt as if my heart was being ripped from my chest. My hand dropped from her arm and my self-preservation instincts kicked in. The fear wa
s like something live in my chest. Shrugging as if I didn’t give a shit, I took a step back, ignoring my heart’s protests. And my body’s. “Sure,” I ground out. “No big deal.”

  “Good,” she said and stepped onto the first stair. I turned away, my chest heaving. Without warning, pressure slammed against my eyes and, to my horror, I felt the tears burn. I swallowed them back, reaching desperately for the anger I needed to push the feelings away, but I couldn’t dredge it up. I was aching. I was dying.

  With a growl I turned back to her and dragged her against me. “Yes, it’s a big fucking deal!” I said. “I don’t know what the right thing is at this point. I don’t know what to say or what to do. I just know nothing about you ever felt temporary. Nothing.”

  “I can’t,” she said, trying to push out of my arms, but I couldn’t let her go. “Please, Brax, please don’t do this to me.”

  “River…” I said, cupping her jaw, pulling her tighter. “I want it to be hard for you, dammit, even though it goes against everything I should do. We deserve to have this time together before you have to leave. I don’t want us to be…strangers. It’s not going to work for me.”

  All this time I had been fighting against her advances, so this turnaround left me at a loss. I tried to force myself to let her go. Tried with everything I had, knowing we couldn’t be together, and the torture almost brought me to my knees.

  It was a position I was getting used to with her.

  #

  River Pearl

  My resolve was wavering and melting. It was hard enough to stay away from Braxton to protect him from my daddy’s threat, but with him pulling me close against his muscular chest, begging for what I’d dreamed of having with him, I was losing it.

  I had hurt him. I could see it right away in his eyes, and the jolt of realization traveled through me like lightning. It cut me to the core to think I was causing him pain. It was easy for me to believe he could walk away, but much harder to see he was struggling, too. And the shattered and scattered pieces of me came together just like that, mending me so quickly it took my breath away.

  I wanted him. I wanted him in a way that defied everything in my life. A way that made me want to get in his truck and run away. The thought of hurting him tore the very fabric of my being.

  His head descended, and paused, his mouth close to mine. He looked me in the eyes for what seemed like forever, drowning me in his ocean of blue. I shivered with anticipation and was completely torn, strung out.

  I shivered at the first touch of his lips, blinking as if the contact had given me a shock. Then he covered my mouth with his and I lost my train of thought. My eyes drifted closed. My free hand fisted against his chest, twisted in the cotton of his T-shirt. He pulled me close, slanting his mouth across mine, taking possession of it. At the feel of his tongue, I gasped and he slipped inside. At the contact I sobbed in relief. I wanted him so much, I was sick with it. The feel of him in my mouth, the taste of him, was intoxicating, dizzying. He thrust slowly, deeply as if he was savoring every taste of me.

  Groaning, he deepened the kiss, crushing my breasts against his broad chest.

  A tremor rippled through me, the rush of emotion so intense it was almost unbearable, and I clenched my hands against it. He’d endured so much. Too much. More than anyone should have to handle.

  He seemed so strong and so confident, a hero in my eyes. He never backed down and rarely had to throw even one punch, because he refused to be a victim. I couldn’t make him a victim. We were doomed from the beginning. I just hadn’t been able to see it. I would not be the reason he lost Outlaws or had to endure one more minute of pain.

  I cried out against his mouth and pulled away. “I can’t,” I said. “I just can’t.” For the second time in my life, I ran. But this time it was for him and not for me. I ordered myself not to look back, but it was beyond me.

  When I did he was sitting in his truck, his forehead against the steering wheel. My mind shut down and my heart ached…oh, God…it ached so much I thought it might stop beating. I stared at him, groping for something to hold myself together. But I could find nothing—nothing but a sick fear. I wanted to fly off the porch and go to him, hold his face between my hands and soothe the hurt and sorrow I saw.

  But I couldn’t. My midriff churned with a mix of guilt, alarm and helplessness. I turned away and I heard him start up the truck. I rang Maizy’s doorbell, and when her maid opened the door, I plastered the fake smile on my face.

  “Oh, hello, Miz Sutton. Do come in.”

  I stepped into the house and followed her to the sitting room. Maizy rose as I walked into the room. She took one look at my face, then at the windows that looked right out onto her front walk. Her face was creased in a frown.

  She opened her arms and my face crumpled as I ran into them, sobbing. Her arms went around me and I cried harder from the comfort of her embrace. Something I had never done with my own momma. Perfect princesses didn’t sob like their world was ending. They merely squared their shoulders and lifted their chins and endured.

  But I hurt so badly, I couldn’t hide it anymore.

  “Lois, bring some hot tea and those wonderful shortbread cookies you just made, dear.”

  Looking alarmed, she said quickly, “Yes, Miz Maizy. Right away.”

  Maizy rocked me like I was a child, and my tears soaked into her pretty, expensive linen blouse, but she didn’t once reprimand me.

  Fifteen minutes later, after I had poured my heart out to her, she told me how outraged she was at the way I had been treated by my own family.

  “What is this boy’s name?”

  “Braxton Outlaw.”

  “What did you say? Outlaw? Not one of Duel Outlaw’s descendants?” She looked shaken and intrigued.

  “How do you know about Duel Outlaw?”

  “Oh my, this is really quite unexpected, River Pearl. I’m a Pierpont.”

  “As in Amy Pierpont? Duel’s wife?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” She walked to the bookcase and pulled out a lovely wooden box. “This speech you’re writing for the Founder’s Day Festival. It’s about the Colonel and Duel, I presume?”

  “Yes, I’m looking for information about Duel. Brax was helping me. He gave me ledgers, love letters from Duel to Amy, and newspaper clippings which I haven’t had a chance to read because they’re still at his house. I can’t believe this.”

  “Then you would be very interested in these letters, my dear. These are from Amy to my many greats-grandmomma after Duel was hanged. I’m directly descended from Amy’s younger brother George by five generations.”

  “I would be very interested in them. Would you be willing to let me borrow and read them?”

  “I would. Maybe there is something here to help round out your character study of Duel Outlaw.”

  “I found something odd in one of his ledgers. The one from the day he allegedly killed those men and stole the gold.”

  “Oh, you did? What?”

  “He was in his store all day. He’d made many entries into the ledger. They were in his handwriting.”

  “And what have you concluded from this?”

  “That it’s possible he didn’t kill those men and steal the gold.”

  “It’s possible he made the entries when he returned, to cover his tracks.”

  “That’s what Brax said.

  “You think he’s innocent?”

  “I do. If I could prove it, then they would be exonerated.”

  “And you wouldn’t get resistance from your family?” she asked. “You know the gold was never recovered.”

  “I wondered. If Duel had stolen the gold, then what happened to it?”

  “Read the letters, dear, and perhaps you’ll solve this very old murder mystery. It sounds like you have a mission to prove that every vile thing perpetrated against Duel’s offspring has been a terrible miscarriage of justice. It would certainly clear your young man’s name. Wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, it would, but it
doesn’t matter. I’m going back to modeling.”

  “Is it what you want to do?”

  “It’s what I’m expected to do. I’ve also been offered a TV show, and my momma expected me to enter the Miss Louisiana contest. But I told her I wouldn’t.”

  “Good for you. Your momma was always chasing the brass ring. She could never get it for herself.”

  She left unspoken that my momma still wanted the brass ring, and she was chasing it through me, now.

  “You know, you’re a young woman and able to make your own choices, River Pearl. When you reach this point in life, sometimes opportunities open up which are very unexpected. You don’t want to get to be my age and regret anything. Do you?”

  The fear must have shown on my face.

  “I see something is holding you back. I’m not sure what it is, but what I am sure of is life is much too short, dear. It always comes to an end sooner than we expect. You must always strive for your own happiness. No one else can achieve it for you, and you only have yourself to blame if you’re unhappy. Have the courage to make your own way. Whatever it may be.”

  “Thank you so much for your kindness, and for introducing me to the school and those wonderful kids. Your foundation is doing very good work, and I’m honored to have been asked to be part of it.”

  “I believe there is an opening for a teacher at the school. I sure hope they can find someone talented and patient.”

  “I hope so.” I rose.

  “Look at me, prattling on when your coming-out is tonight. I will see you there.”

  On the drive home I thought about what Maizy said about making my own happiness. I knew it was true, but I was bogged down by my own overactive brain. Thinking wasn’t always a good thing, and Brax had been forcing me to do way more thinking than I’d planned to do this summer. I had seriously believed it was going to be all physical with him. Some great sex, a fun time, and back to New York. But it wasn’t what happened at all.