Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance)

by Celia Loren

  We pull up to 100 River Street. The lights are glowing in the grey twilight, giving it a ghostly feel even though the building is brand-new. My father and I are on the early side, as he wants to be there to greet people and cut the ribbon before the gala begins. I look around, wondering if Boone is already here.

  I spot him speaking to a woman with an earpiece in her ear. Of course he beat us here. He works harder than anyone I've ever met, and yet he still looks immaculate. My stomach jumps as he turns toward us and I catch a look at his face. He's combed his hair back to keep it out of his face, but he still has just a tiny bit of scruff. I think his beard hair must grow at a record rate. His tux is less traditional than my father's, more slimly cut, and he wears it with a white pocket square and black tie instead of a bowtie. It suits him perfectly.

  He sees my father and me and gives my father a small nod. He finishes speaking to the woman and heads over to us without looking in my direction.

  "Good to see you out and about, Mason. You're looking well," he says, shaking my father's hand. He turns to me and I search his eyes while trying to communicate some measure of how sorry I am through mine. "You too, Callie," he adds, shaking my hand. I feel electricity run through my body as our palms touch, but his eyes have a reserved, distant look in them. "The press would like a few words with us, Mason, before all the guests arrive," he says, turning back to my father.

  They head over to a line of reporters, and I stand awkwardly back, watching them speak together, and my father clap Boone jovially on the shoulder. I'm clearly not needed here, and the air is so humid that it feels like a fine mist is settling on my skin, so I decide to step around the ribbon and head inside.

  The lobby of the building is covered in clean, white marble. A band is set up along the back, with tables on the sides and a dance floor in the middle. In each direction, two long hallways extend to the retail spaces, which are open and brightly lit, so that the gala attendees can see all the new shops.

  One of the caterers gives me a glass of champagne, and I stand at a cocktail table in the front corner as night falls and the guests begin to arrive. The cameras from the press line flash and I watch as everyone tries to pose with Boone and my father, the men of the hour. A crowd forms in front of the ribbon, and after a short speech that I can see but not hear, my father cuts the ribbon with a pair of giant ceremonial scissors. The crowd streams inside, and fills the space so quickly that no one has time to realize that I've been standing in here alone.

  I watch Boone pass me, surrounded by a small posse of beautiful young women, and frown. I was worried about having the chance to talk to him by ourselves tonight, but maybe I should have been worried about far more. Like the possibility that he's already moved on. What if he's already sleeping with other women? Could I really blame him?

  I do a double take as I spot a familiar face in the midst of my fog of anxiety. "Sheila!" I call out.

  She turns and smiles with relief as she sees me. "Hey, Callie, you look gorgeous," she says, kissing me on the cheek.

  "I love your suit!" I comment, admiring her black satin suit, with its cigarette pants to show off her high heels.

  "Is it too... obvious? I hate wearing dresses, but I'm not here in an official girlfriend capacity."

  "Oh, who cares if it is. You look fabulous," I reply, taking her arm and leading her over to my father's table. "You sit with us, that way no one can say you don't belong."

  "Thanks, you're a lifesaver," she says, squeezing my hand as we sit down next to each other. My father's eyes flicker over in our direction, but he doesn't say anything. A four course dinner is soon served, and I try my best to focus on Sheila and the other people at our table, my father's vice presidents and their significant others. Boone commands a separate table just next to us, and he seems to have attracted the younger, more fun crowd. I can't help but look in his direction with every burst of laughter that comes from their table, even though I know that looking at him isn't doing me any good and is just leaving me with a crick in my neck.

  After dessert is served, a woman's voice gets on the speaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'll hope you'll get out of your seats and onto the dance floor for this next one," she says, and I groan as I recognize the singer from that date I went on with Vernon but that ended in Boone's bed. She had a gorgeous voice, but I don't need to be dragged into the past just now. I glance over at Boone, but he's staring at her in a way that makes me wonder if she's my competition, too.

  I look around the room as couples stand up and take to the dance floor. I catch Lynn's eye and she smiles at me, but then I notice Vernon staring back at me from the same table, and I blush and look away. I don't know if escaping my past is an attainable goal for tonight. A laughing jumble of bodies passes me, and suddenly Boone and his whole table have hit the dance floor. I turn back in my chair, resolutely looking down at my plate.

  "Lynn looks beautiful tonight, doesn't she?" Sheila asks me.

  "She does," I affirm, and we fall into a sad, but comfortable silence. The orchestra starts up the first strains of "Moon River," and we both sigh at the same time. I glance toward the dance floor, and my heart constricts as I see Boone's arm around Virginia's tiny waist, and her hand in his. I can't see his face, but she's looking up at him with a glowing, beatific smile.

  "You want to dance?" I ask, nudging her arm.

  "Seriously?"

  "We're both sitting here thinking about other people, and I don't know about you, but I'm about to lose it. I bet it'll make us feel better."

  "But what about—"

  "I'm just so tired of caring about what everyone else thinks, aren't you?" I ask, standing up and holding my hand out to her.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Boone

  I smile as I watch Callie lead Sheila onto the dance floor. Damn, she looks gorgeous tonight, not that I'm going to tell her that. She made it very clear that she doesn't want to be around me, and I'm not a man given to begging.

  "What?" Virginia asks, frowning up at me.

  "Nothing," I reply. I do give Callie credit, though. Dancing with Sheila is a brave move, especially for someone who doesn't always like to go against the grain.

  "You know, Boone, you always told me you weren't a relationship kind of guy," she purrs.

  "Um..." I mutter, distracted by the sight of Lynn headed straight for Callie and Sheila. Lynn taps Callie on the shoulder, and I see Callie grin as she gives Sheila's hand to her girlfriend. I feel like applauding for Sheila and Lynn, but I just keep dancing. Callie says something to Lynn, and then begins to walk away. We catch each other's eyes for a moment, and she freezes, staring at me. She looks so lonely, and for a second I remember the gawky, big-eyed child that stared at me from across the dinner table at her father's house. She seemed so shy, but there she was, speaking up for what was right even as a teenager.

  "Boone!" Virginia pouts, upset by my lack of attention.

  "I wasn't. I'm not, I mean," I clarify.

  "Well, that's not what I hear," she sniffs. I glance back toward the place where Callie was standing, but she's gone. I look around the room, and even though I'm the tallest man on the dance floor, I can't spot her anywhere.

  "What?" I say distractedly, as I realize Virginia has been speaking to me.

  "If you're not going to listen to what I'm saying, then maybe I should just leave," she snaps.

  "I understand," I reply simply, tired of her threats and emotional games. Her mouth drops open in shock. I don't think anyone has ever called her bluff before. She turns and stomps off in a huff.

  I break out of the crowd just as the song ends and walk along each side of the dance floor, double-checking for Callie among the tables of partygoers. I spot Lynn and Sheila sitting on a settee against the back wall together. Lynn's family is nowhere to be seen, but neither of them look like they care.

  "Hey," I ask, hustling over, "have y'all seen Callie anywhere?"

  "I saw her make a break for the front door a minute ago," Sheila
offers.

  "Ah, never mind, then," I say with a shrug.

  "Never mind? Go after her, silly," Lynn says.

  "I'm not going to go after her. She made it very clear what she wants, and it's not like I don't have plenty of other—"

  "Boone!" Lynn interrupts me. "Her father almost died," she says more quietly. "Can you really not understand that she hasn't been herself lately? Cut her some slack."

  "What if she doesn't even want me to?" I counter, remembering how she shrank from my touch that night in Forsyth Park.

  "It's love. Sometimes you have to take a risk. Though, as her friend, and off the record, I'm telling you that it's not really that big of a risk," she says, raising an eyebrow conspiratorially.

  "Ah," I reply with a grin. "Thanks for the tip." I run for the door, pulling my phone out of my pocket as I go and calling for Raoul to bring the car around. I jump in the backseat and tell him where we're going, my leg bouncing up and down in the back seat in anticipation.

  A week without her has been hell. Concentrating on this gala opening while half my brain is thinking about her, wondering what was going on in her mind, whether I pushed her too hard or didn't push her enough... and meanwhile, Mason emailing and calling from home, imagining that his business is falling apart without him, even though we're actually getting more done in his absence.

  Raoul pulls up at the Woodall house just as fat raindrops begin to drop onto the windshield. I sprint up the front steps, and just as I reach the front door, the downpour begins in earnest, with a loud, cracking thunderbolt in the distance. I knock on the front door, wondering whether Callie will even be able to hear me with all this noise. I check my pockets. Shit, I left my phone in the car, and Raoul already pulled away. I cup my hands over my eyes and press against the window next to the door, trying to see inside. I can just see a shadow move across the dark interior, and step back.

  "Hello, Mr. Tillman," Mrs. Hunt says as she opens the door.

  "Mrs. Hunt, good evening. I was just—" I begin, but she holds up her hand to stop me.

  "She's upstairs in her room. Right at the top of the stairs, door on the end. In case you didn't know already," she says with a wink.

  I almost begin to laugh, but instead, I rush past her with a hurried thanks. I take the stairs two at a time, and then turn towards her door. I slow down, realizing that I've never seen her room before, the one that she grew up in, and that I don’t know exactly what I'm going to say. After all, she's the one who broke up with me. I take a deep breath and open the door.

  She's standing with her back toward me, reaching behind her back to try to unzip her dress. "I can help you with that," I say. She jumps and turns, her long, dark hair brushing in front of her face.

  "Boone! Shit, you scared me!" she swears, and I worry I've done the wrong thing by showing up. "Thank god you're here," she says, walking toward me and throwing her slender arms around my neck. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the soft, pale skin of her back under my calloused fingers. She's always felt a little too fine for me, like a silk cloth that I'd accidentally rip, but here she is in my embrace. "Can you forgive me?" she asks, leaning back and looking up at me, her beautiful face streaked with tears.

  "Of course I forgive you," I whisper, leaning down to kiss her, but she puts her hands on my chest and pushes me back.

  "Wait, there's something I have to tell you first," she says, a worry line creasing her forehead.

  "I don't like the sound of that," I say, my stomach dropping.

  She takes a deep breath. "My father isn't intending on making you the CEO of Woodall & Sons when he retires. He told me in the hospital room. I thought you should know."

  "Shit," I say, running my hand through my hair. I sit down at a chair in front of her vanity. "I had no idea what you were going to say, but somehow it wasn't that."

  "I want you to know that I think you've earned it," she says, kneeling in front of me and resting her hand on my knee. "My father can be more than traditional, he can be archaic, really."

  "So it's because of where I come from," I say, feeling numb.

  "We can't choose our parents," she whispers, looking up at me.

  "Wait, is this why you broke up with me?" I ask, feeling confused.

  She rests her forehead on my knee, unable to look at me. "Part of it. I'm so embarrassed, I can't even tell you." She sighs, and looks back up. "Virginia somehow got it into my head that you were only after me so that you'd, um, inherit the company."

  I raise my eyebrows. "I ain't proposed to you yet."

  She blushes and punches me lightly. "I know that. With everything that was happening, it was just one more thing... I didn't really want a break from you... I just wanted a break from feeling... from everything."

  "I get it," I say, laying my hand over hers. "Damn, though, I really thought I'd be Woodall & Sons' next CEO."

  "Me too," she sighs. "Are you okay?"

  "I will be. As long as you're planning on sticking around."

  "I am."

  "So now will it always be suspect if I do ask you to marry me?"

  "Why, is that on your mind?" she asks with a grin.

  "Well, not right at this moment, but maybe it could be, down the road."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Callie

  I smile, and press my nose into his knee, feeling like the weight that's shrouded my heart is lifting off. Boone is thinking about spending his life with me. I can scarcely believe it.

  "So, this is your childhood bedroom, huh?" Boone asks, leaning down and pulling me onto his lap. He sweeps my hair up and off of my shoulders. "You ever sneak guys over?"

  I laugh. "No. I can't say I had any of the boys chasing after me as a teenager."

  "Their loss," Boone murmurs, softly kissing my clavicle and sending a shiver down my body.

  "Do you need to go back to the gala?"

  "Probably soon," he replies, running one finger under the top of my dress, just along the top of my breasts.

  "Then we better get started," I murmur into his ear, sliding one hand over his crotch and feeling his erection grow into my hand. He groans and wraps his hand around my head, digging his fingers through my hair and pulling my mouth to his. I begin to tremble with desire as his hand moves around to the back of my dress and swiftly unzips it. A week without him has felt like forever.

  I feel his leg muscles begin to push against mine, and I stand. He follows me, sliding my dress down my body and then letting it pool on the floor in a puddle of red satin. He blows air from between his teeth as he looks down at my naked breasts. I reach forward and push his suit jacket off, and hurriedly unbutton the first few buttons of his starched, white shirt before heading for his pants, unzipping them and pushing them to the floor along with his boxers.

  He starts walking toward me with a dangerous look in his eyes and I giggle as the back of my legs hit my bed and I collapse back onto it. He bends over and takes a long lick of my slit, sending my body quaking and my eyes rolling back in my head. He slips two long fingers inside me as his tongue moves to my clit, and the pleasure is so intense that it feels like my body wants to levitate off the bed. After less than a minute under his tongue, I'm panting with desire.

  "I'm ready," I gasp, needing to feel him inside me immediately. He pops up and grins, then surges forward on top of me, his dick held in one hand. He positions himself over me, and I feel his eyes on me as he enters me. "Fuck, I missed you," I moan as he fills me up.

  He lets out a groan in response, then quickly pulls out and presses inside me again. I wrap my legs around his back, holding him inside me as tightly as possible. His hands find mine, and he roughly pulls them over my head, pinning me down onto the bed. He begins to thrust inside me hard, again and again. He's never taken me so roughly before, but I love it. There is something delightfully fucked up and freeing about having sex like this on my childhood bed.

  I find his ear and dig my teeth into it. He rears his head back and covers my lips with his, o
ur tongues exploring each other as our bodies move together as one. I grit my teeth, trying to hold back the orgasm I feel inside me. I want to keep feeling Boone Tillman on top of me for as long as I possibly can. But with another hard thrust, he drives the orgasm out of me, sending my pleasure spilling over. I struggle to keep my cries quiet as our bodies shake against each other.

  He stills on top of me, releasing my hands and leaning up on his elbows. I turn my wrists around, feeling a slight stiffness in them. He presses his nose in between my breasts, and I kiss the top of his head. I wish he could stay longer, but we both know he has to leave. He sighs and looks back up at me.

  "Well, I guess I should—"

  My head snaps toward the door. Did I just hear voices coming from downstairs? I feel Boone's body tense, and then he quietly stands up as we both listen.

  "Callie!" I hear Mrs. Hunt's voice call. "Callie!" My eyes widen as I hear a man's voice. "Your father is coming up!"

  "Fuck!" I swear, as Boone darts across the room for his pants, and I dive to the floor for my dress. I pull it to my chest as Boone yanks his boxers back on.

  The door swings open with a bang, and my father stands red-faced and soaking wet in the doorway. The three of us freeze for a moment as Mrs. Hunt peers anxiously over his shoulder.

  "You son-of-a-bitch!" my father yells, charging at Boone.

  "Dad!" I yell, torn between my concern for my dad's heart and Boone getting punched in the face.

  Boone neatly deflects my father with his forearm, then sidesteps him and gets his arm around my father's neck, locking him neatly in place. My father's limbs flail desperately as swear pours down his face.

  "Mason, relax," Boone says. "You're not going anywhere. And you'll never kick my ass if you give yourself another heart attack." My dad gives one final effort, arching his back, but Boone's much too strong for him. He finally relents, letting his body relax, though I can still see fury in his eyes. "Before I let you go, I want you to know that I'm serious about your daughter. This isn't some fling."