“On a normal day, I’m not kissing you. Working out doesn’t really get me going if you know what I mean.”
I bite my lip. “On a normal day, you’ll be kissing me.”
“I’ll wear my chastity belt from here on out,” Mercer replies, readjusting himself and the waistband of the shorts. “You ready?” He looks dangerously handsome; his skimpy shorts be darned.
“As I’ll ever be.” I sigh. This isn’t in any way I ever envisioned this going, but now that I’m here, in this moment, I can’t think of a better way. “Thank you, by the way.”
He grabs my hand, and we walk toward the brick building and the double doors. “Don’t thank me yet, that comes at the end. When the mission is complete.”
The secretary has a bright smile when she sees me, but her bottom jaw drops when her gaze slides right and sees big ole’ Mercer, holding my hand. “Ms. Wellsley,” she stutters. “What can I help you with? I don’t see you on his schedule, but of course you don’t need to be on his schedule.” Her bright blonde curls are perfect, and her lips are painted a hue of red I would never dare wear. “Should I let him know you’re here?” This question shouldn’t be taken at face value, she’s giving me an out. An escape. In case I just now realized what an awful idea this is. She’s a kind woman. My mother often wonders just how kind she is.
“Please let him know I’m here to chat. He’s not expecting me, but I do hope he has a few minutes. Mr. Ballentine and I have a bit of business to address,” I say. I can feel Mercer’s chuckle next to me. I elbow him. The secretary flies out of her seat and down the hall to my daddy’s office. She calls down to us to come right away. As we walk down the hall, I lean in and say, “Andrew Jackson says she listens through the door.”
“That’s the losing end of the stick. How about twenty on her calling someone before we even leave the building.”
I nod. “You’re on.”
Daddy’s eyes are on the door as I stride through, and his gaze immediately flicks to Mercer. I take the first word. “Hey, Daddy. I wanted to stop in and quell the rumor mill before it kicks up too much dust.”
He stands from his chair. “Close the door,” Daddy says. “Mr. Ballentine,” Daddy addresses Mercer. “Your father just left for the day. Were you here to see him?”
“Hello, sir. No, I’m here to see you,” Mercer says, stepping forward to take my daddy’s hand in a shake. He steps back to stand by my side. The laser gaze my daddy is bouncing between us is palpable. “I apologize for my informal clothing, Ms. Wellsley here asked I accompany her and as I’m sure you well know, you can’t tell her no.”
Oh, smooth, Mercer, real smooth.
I smirk and approach the side of his desk so I don’t feel like we’re conducting business. When I meet his eyes, I see the questions, the confusion, the accusations, and while I’m being honest, I see the disappointment. I let it rip. “Daddy, I’m moving to Cape Cod to be a stylist in Goldie’s salon. She already has a place for me to live and a booth in her salon.” He’s wearing that face that’s unreadable. I can’t tell if he’s going to have a fit, so I bluster on. “I graduated last year, and I haven’t been going to quilting class. That was a cover while I was working at the hair school up in the city. You won’t have to worry about me.” This is where I’m going to segue into having Mercer with me. Well, he’ll be with me when he’s not deployed. Better than nothing.
“No,” Daddy deadpans. “You get these ideas and you have no idea how the real world works. This isn’t the time to be flighty, Clover. This is the time to make a life for yourself. A real one. Not playing pretend in another state doing meaningless work.”
My fists clench at my sides. The anger I feel is boiling and I know everyone in the room can feel it. “I’m following my dream. This wasn’t a question. I’m leaving Greenton for good. You can’t stop me. I’m an adult and quite frankly, I’m upset you think I was asking permission. This is me telling you that I’m moving out of the house on your property and starting a life of my own.”
Daddy smirks. It’s the scary one. “That’s it then? Okay.” He nods at Mercer. “What’s he doing here?”
Mercer steps up, literally and figuratively. “I’m here to tell you I will protect her. I care about your daughter, sir, and I will do my best to make sure she’s happy in Cape Cod.”
This shocks my daddy. I think his hairline recedes a touch. “You,” Daddy says, and then points to me. “And Clover?” Daddy chuckles. “You have both lost your minds. I have work to do. Go run along. Don’t bother your mother with this nonsense. She has enough on her plate right now. It won’t do her health any good having to deal with more of your batty antics, Clover.”
“I just wanted your support. Most children have parents who want their kids to follow their dreams. I’m almost thirty, Daddy. Please.” It’s my last plea for a different outcome with this conversation. “I’m going to tell Mama because this is happening whether you want it to or not.”
Daddy falls back in his chair, a little wildly. “You never do what you’re supposed to do.” He shakes his head. “From the day you were born, we’ve been cursed with your unruly personality. You bring up a poignant point. You’re almost thirty. You need to get married. Bring some value to your life.” My anger fades into defeat—my dreams squashed like a defenseless bug. I was bred to be married off and breed myself. This has always been their goals for me, as antiquated as they may be, I remember a time when I wanted the same things.
Mercer clears his throat. “Sir, I don’t mean to insert myself into family business here, but Clover has more value and purpose in this world than any other person I’ve met. It’s not fair to say she needs to marry to obtain some intangible quality.”
My daddy laughs meanly. “See, Son! You won’t even marry her, but you’ll talk about it. No one will. She’s a wild spinster with a nose in her causes without a care for what her reputation is doing to my career. She wants to go fix hair. The trust fund baby wants to follow her wild dreams.” He huffs. “Someone has to keep her head on straight. Clover,” he says. “I’m sorry, but you’re not going anywhere.”
“I never said I wouldn’t marry her, sir,” Mercer says, shaking his head, correcting him. “I think a lady should be able to pick who and when she marries or even if she wants to marry at all. I have dedicated my life to fighting for her freedom to choose her life. Yours too. I’d thank you kindly for not insulting her freedoms anymore.” He grabs my hand. “Are you ready to go?” Thank God he’s here to catch me before I go to pieces in front of my past.
“I’m sorry we don’t see eye to eye, Son,” Daddy says to Mercer. To me, he coos, “I won’t let you waltz off into the sunset, Clover. Go get a manicure or buy a dress. You’ll come ‘round.” Daddy picks up a file on his desk. “I have work to do. You’ll excuse me?”
That’s our cue to leave and I feel like I’ve been drowned in a different way. Mercer takes my arm and leads me out of the office, past the secretary’s desk and into the humid day. When we get to the car, he asks if he can drive. I toss him the keys and he opens the door for me.
“Heading to talk to your mom, then?” he asks, voice tentative.
I lay my head on the dashboard. “Maybe I should buy a dress and forget about my dreams,” I whine. “This is going to be a nightmare.”
Mercer sighs as he starts up the car. “A nightmare, ma’am, is buying a dress instead of living a life.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask, teary gaze meeting his for a second before he turns his back to the road.
He swallows hard. “Because I told you I’d fight for us. This is all part of it, right?”
“He’s not going to let me leave. I’m going to need more help than you can give,” I admit. “Remember when I was telling you about your daddy running against him for mayor? How I was worried about what he would do? Well, me leaving might be a good distraction. All of his rage and deceiving ways will be aimed at me.”
“He’s not going to hurt you. You�
��re his daughter,” he replies, turning into my driveway. I give him the code to open the gates and they swing open to our long drive. “Maybe I’m a glutton for solving a problem,” he adds, shrugging. “Or I really just want you to be mine.”
Mercer raises his brows when he sees the pink fountains, but he doesn’t say anything. “Thank you for speaking up for me back there. I appreciate you trying to talk sense into him,” I whisper.
“I just told the truth. Maybe if enough people say it loud enough, the man will hear it. I meant it. I know you don’t need anyone.”
I wipe under my eyes and fix my hair. “Mercer, Tannie said something today about you only bein’ off for three weeks, and how you’re pretty much only after one thing, and as much as I wanted to believe she was right because that makes things easier, I know that’s not the case. You’re here and it’s messy and if you really wanted something easy instead of my insanity, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
Mercer taps his fingers on the steering wheel and presses his lips together. “You really need new friends. Did she say that to upset you?”
Sighing, I straighten the sleeve of my dress. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
He apologizes for the curse words he’s going to say in his next sentence. “If I wanted a loose fuck I could drive up to the city and have my pick. Easy women are plentiful. They don’t want to talk or get to know me. They want to ride my dick and leave before the sun rises.” At his colorful language, I lean away. He parks the car and meets my shocked gaze. “You ready to go tell your mama I’m your man?”
I nod. “Although I’m not sure I know how to handle my man.”
He smirks a half-smile. “You don’t worry about that, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
We walk into my parents’ house, and I hear my mama’s wails and cries from the entrance foyer. I look up to Mercer and whisper, “Oh, Sherlock.”
He nods once and sets his shoulders square. Battle number two.
Chapter Nine
___________________________________
Clover
MAMA IS CLUTCHING me like she’ll lose me if she releases her grip. Daddy called her before we got here. The only good thing about that fact is it means Daddy actually believed what I told him, that I’m leaving. There’s no way he’d work Mama up otherwise. They know I’m serious as a heart attack. She finished asking me why and moved on to guilting me into staying for her health. Mama has a big ole’ case of hypochondria. Her doctor has never diagnosed her with anything real, but that doesn’t stop her from having things or convincing my daddy she has things.
“The festival, though? I have everything set up,” Mama says, sniffling. “All that work.”
She’s persuasive. “I’ll still be here for the festival.” I eye Mercer, standing in the corner giving us space. Unlike Daddy, Mama is sad. This is harder. “I’ll do your auction,” I whisper. I’ll explain that to Mercer later. Surely, he won’t mind me going on a fake date.
“And him?” she nods at Mercer. “You are with him? The rumors are true?”
“Not all of them,” I say. “I planted one of them because Tannie was getting annoying.”
She sighs. “Thank you, God. I hoped that one wasn’t true.” Mama pauses, eyes wilting in the corner. “I’d be happier about this pairing if it came with a different outcome. Your father would never approve, but I want you to know, I do.” So, the auction is my father’s brainchild. It was a toss-up on who was responsible. At least I know the truth.
I lower my voice. “He’s a good man, Mama. A real good one. He’s respectable. He values the same things we value—a true Southern gentleman. He wants me to be happy. The way I see it, I couldn’t ask for a better man.” She looks at him, skeptical. “You’re going to have to trust me,” I add.
It’s odd when I get the emotional version of my mama. Usually it’s the shark. I know how to handle that version quite well. This is tricky territory. I need to give her information, but not so much she can use it against me when she rallies. “He’ll take care of me. I need to start a life. I can’t organize festivals for the rest of my life. I won’t be happy. You can’t possibly want that for me.”
She brings up my charity, like a last resort weapon. I have a reply for that too and by the time we’re finished with our faux sweet tea she’s out of ideas and the poor woman reeks of desperation.
“Your daddy isn’t going to make this easy, sweetie,” Mama says, cupping my cheek. “I hope you have Plan B and C on deck.” She knows me well. I tell her not to worry and drift over to apologize to Mercer.
“Everything okay?” He asks, distracted by the grandeur of the foyer. I think about everything that’s happened this afternoon and my mental state.
I make the sign for so-so, and tell him how my mom took the news. “I really need that frozen sugar today. Want to go back to my house and shower and then get out of here? Think your mama wants to feed one more tonight? Would she mind?” Southern mothers never mind an extra, and I think I’m in good enough graces to be welcomed at the Ballentine’s even after his father’s candidate announcement.
He leans over to whisper, “You joining me in the shower?”
Goosebumps prickle my skin. Turning, I see my mom watching us like a hawk. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We’ll talk later, Mama,” I say. “Maybe you can soften Daddy up when he gets home.”
“I’ll be too busy having a heart attack, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Go have a seat and watch your shows,” I fire back. “I’m having dinner at Mercer’s house.” I’m waiting for some tongue in cheek remark, or subtle jab, but it doesn’t come. I broke her.
The walk to my house is brisk, and I lock the bolt lock when we’re both safely inside. I’m ready for more of his lips, but he’s too busy looking up at the vaulted ceilings and examining the artwork on my walls. “Wow,” he says. “I knew your parents had a mansion. I didn’t realize you lived in a mini version.”
“I’m a reflection of them, why wouldn’t I have a mini-mansion?” It’s meant as a joke, but Mercer winces.
“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”
I’m careful with my words. It’s all I’ve ever known, but I can tell it’s making him uncomfortable. “It’s just a house, a place to live. Want that shower now?”
“Are you going to miss it?” Mercer drags a hand over a marble column, shaking his head.
I side-eye him. “Miss what? Being controlled? Being told how to breathe? Or living in the house my mom designed for me to live out the rest of my days in?” I distinctly remember when I was ten years old, my mother obsessing over the plans for this house. Not a common thing for a kid, I realize now. I told her to make the whole house pink and the walls made of fluffy cotton candy.
His reply is straight forward. “The money.”
My cell chimes a text from my handbag. It’s Tannie telling me she wants to come over tonight. I use my cell phone as a distraction from the awkward conversation. “I don’t know,” I reply. “Do I think Daddy will leverage my trust fund? Probably. Have I already put in safe holds in case he does? Absolutely. Leaving here means leaving this entire life behind. The flashy houses, cars, and easy friends because of my last name will be gone.” I fire off the text and meet his eye. “It’s not as if you grew up in the projects, now is it?”
He sways as he walks toward me, his gaze still taking in everything around him. “Not quite the same, but I get what you’re saying. It’s not going to be easy, Clover. Don’t get me wrong, I make a killing in the military. The more time I’m gone, the more money they throw at me. Gain a new skill, make more money, but this” —he waves an arm around him— “is a type of wealth most people don’t know exists. It’s going to be hard to walk away from this without looking back.”
“It’s not good to worry about things I can’t change. I’ll figure out how to live on a stylist’s salary. If it was easy, I
wouldn’t want it.”
Mercer laughs. “Usually it’s the other way around, you know? People trying to attain what you’re walking away from.”
“I’m not a normal person, Mercer. Don’t compare me to others. Can I ask if you’re assumin’ I haven’t thought of that? That I might not have a clue how to live without this?” I wave an arm around and then point at him. “You’re going to help me.”
Mercer laughs, placing a palm against his stomach. “How am I supposed to help you? Before you ask me for lessons on balancing a checkbook, I’ll stop to remind you I’m headin’ back to London for six months. Goldie is going to have to give you the crash course on how to live without the silver spoon.” Mercer casts his eyes to the side. “I’m sorry, that was harsh.”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” I set my hands on my hips. “I’ve lived without you for a mess of time. What’s six months more?”
His face softens, and his neck flexes as he looks elsewhere. “Yeah?” he asks.
“Time never scares me.” Relaxing my arms by my sides, I weigh my decision.
Mercer takes me in his arms. “What about war?”
“There’s a little trepidation there, but you’ll be safe. You know you have to get back to teach me to balance a checkbook.” I pause, gazing into his blue eyes. “Mercy, Mercer. You are surefire handsome.” He’s always been handsome, but he was never a man I was allowed to look at closely. To know. Right now, he makes my heart skip a beat.
He grins. “That’s the real reason why you wanna wait for me.” His low voice licks up my spine. When he phrases it like that, waiting, I’m not sure I’m equipped to pause my life for anyone. Especially now that I’m starting something brand new.
I tip my head a bit. “Maybe.”
“I’m going to call Mom and tell her you’ll be my plus one for dinner, then I’m takin’ a shower in your twenty-four-karat gold bathroom. After that, I’m thinkin’ I can teach you something else right quick.”
“Not balancing a checkbook?” I raise one brow.
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