Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance) (14 page)

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, our 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."

"We love each other, Dad," I add softly, but I'm
not sure if my dad's in a state where he can hear me. Boone slowly removes his
arms from around my father's neck, and he collapses forward, catching himself
on my bed and turning into a sitting position as he gasps for air. Boone and I
make eye contact, then turn to him, waiting for him to say something. He
shouldn't have had near this amount of physical activity. He only just got
permission from the doctor to walk upstairs.

"Boone," my father breathlessly says. "You're
fired."

"Mason, let's discuss this," Boone replies.

"There's nothing to discuss! I accept you into my
business, give you a chance that no one else would, and this is how you thank
me? Going after my daughter behind my back?"

"I have proven my worth to you time after time,"
Boone says, his eyes flashing. "I dug Woodall & Sons out of the red,
and you didn't even tell me that you're leaving the company to someone
else." His voice is tight and caught in his throat as he struggles to
maintain a cap on his emotions.

"I don't need you! I never did! You're the bastard son
of a druggie! I never should have even let you in the house!"

Boone's nostrils flare and his hands form fists at his side.
"Boone," I murmur. "Boone."

He takes a deep breath and looks up at me. "I better
leave now, before I do something that can't be taken back," he says. He
crosses the room, grabbing the rest of his clothes. "I'll call you
later," he whispers to me as he passes. I hurriedly grab a shirt and
shorts from my bureau and turn my back to my father to quickly yank them on.
When I turn back around, he's staring straight ahead, his lips pursed in a thin
line.

"Dad, we've wanted to tell you," I say, stepping
hesitantly forward. He stands up slowly and faces me. "Are...are you
feeling alright?

"Get out of my house," he spits at me. "I see
who you are now. Dancing with that dyke earlier and opening your legs
for—"

My arm reaches out and I slap him across the face. He looks
shocked for a moment, then my head is whipping to the side before I understand
what's happening. I reach my hand up to my cheek to feel a burning sensation
and a bit of liquid on my lips. He just slapped me right back, but quite a bit
harder.

A gasping sob crosses my lips, and I turn and run for the
doorway. "Oh, Callie," Mrs. Hunt murmurs, reaching for me, but I run
past her and down the front steps.

"Grace!" I hear my father shout, but I grab my
keys from the bowl by the door and run out. I'm soaked to the bone by the time
I reach the third step, but I don't care about the weather. I just need to get
away.