Southern Seduction (63 page)

“I try to stay out of business that ain’t my own.”

“I should apologize to him I think.”

Wesley adjusted his hat a few times, “I’m no expert on relationships but genuine sorries tend to go a ways, specially with folk like your brother Brayden.”

“Ugh,” I responded and kicked the gravel. “It’s tiring you know. He’s Brayden the great and I’m just loud-mouth Maddie Jean.”

“Your brother regards your loud-mouth fondly.”

“Just how well do you know my brother?”

“Not well,” Wesley wiped his hands on his jeans, “but, my momma had a sixth sense about people, passed it on to me. And your brother, pardon the reference, is an open book.”

I laughed at that. “Maybe you could translate for me then because I’m at a loss.”

“Um, how do I say it, he’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get type a fella. He ain’t trying to be anything other than what he is.”

“I guess that’s true. What about me? What’s your sixth sense say about me, besides stay away?”

Wesley’s demeanor changed. He grew serious standing to all five-eleven of his height. “You really wanna know?”

I studied his expression. Creased brow, crinkled eyes, slightly frowning mouth. How did others see me? Was I something bad to be avoided? The tough Maddie exterior was that, a facade, but most people didn’t see past it. Why should I change now?

“I asked didn’t I?”

Wesley slowed his pace, turning to look at me. His face shadowed once again, “You’re like water.”

“Water?”

“Yes ma’am. While your candidness can be refreshing, it can also be too much at times, a bit overwhelming. In large doses it can downright be drowning.” He patted my back, “But don’t worry drowning ain’t so scary.”

Great, I was a torrential body of water.

As we neared the corral, dust and horse poop became so intense I covered my nose. A couple more feet and hooting and yeehaws surrounded us. When we reached the first horse corral I stopped short. My sight caught by one of the riders.

He was beautiful. Tight fitting black t-shirt. Dark jeans perfectly tailored to his body. Working boots scuffed from use and spurs just as worn. My eyes traced every curve of muscle multiple times before reaching his face. And what a gorgeous face it was. Sharp features, large angled nose, full lips and the greyest eyes I’d ever seen.

Grey eyes that were watching me. It was then I realized my mouth was hanging open and I quickly closed it.

He winked at me then dug his spurs into his horse and they turned and headed away from us.

I turned to Wesley to ask who the rider was, but Wesley had ditched me. I saw his flannel shirt retreating towards the stables. I shook my head and looked back to the corral to find the handsome rider but he too was gone. Who on earth was he? When did dad start hiring such hot help?

As I pushed off the fence post a hand clasped down on my shoulder. I screamed as I turned around fists flailing.

“Whoa, it’s me” Brayden said smirking, “You want a fist fight now?”

“No, I wanted to say, well, it’s been a tough couple months and I shouldn’t take it out on you and I’m sorry.”

“Wow, did you just say sorry?” He turned toward the trees and hollered, “Maddie Jean, my little sister said sorry!” He turned back to me with a smile on his face, “And I didn’t get it on tape.”

I slapped his arm away from my shoulder, “Oh, shut-up.”

“I’m your brother you know and you can talk to me.”

I shrugged, “Sometimes I need a reminder is all.”

“Obviously.”

“Don’t make me take it back,” I said and nudged him in the ribs.

Brayden grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the house, “Gotta face the music sometime now’s as good a time as any.”

I dragged heel, “Ugh, food sounds disgusting.”

“Well by the looks of you, you could stand to eat.”

“Ha ha so funny.” I stopped dragging my feet and let Brayden drag me inside to dinner and my doom.

I fiddled with my cloth napkin folding and unfolding it. When I grew tired of that I played with my fork and knife. Anything to keep from looking at my dad seated at the head of the table to my right. He was blabbering on about politics and office protocol. When the words
preliminary-analysis-investigative-report
were uttered I pretty much zoned out.

At the edge of his seat across from me was dutiful Brayden getting as animated with the conversation as our dad. Of course Gram was to my left smiling and nodding along pleased as punch to have her son and grandson around her. Where was Margo with dinner? I wanted out of here and fast.

“What say you?” Gram asked, looking at me.

“Huh?”

“About your brother taking over? Isn’t it wonderful?”

Nodding I forced a smile, “Yeah it’s terrific.” I even threw in the thumbs up for good measure. Brayden rolled his eyes and kicked me under the table.

Did Brayden have to get everything? Including mom’s gorgeous blond hair and dad’s blue eyes? Another reason Brayden annoyed me, I could see both our parents in him. In me? I saw neither of them. Mom couldn’t remember anyone on either her side or dad’s, that had red hair like me. Nor could she say why exactly I ended up with hazel eyes since she had green and dad had blue. If not for all the glorious pictures in my baby book of her spread eagle as she pushed me out, I might not even believe they were my parents.

It sucked.

It’s like they put all their good genes in Brayden and gave me the leftovers. Of course, there was the Jean family sixth sense. I got it, Brayden didn’t. Which, depending on how you looked at it, was either an added reason to be jealous of Brayden, or feel sorry for him.

“Uncle Ollie will be joining us for dinner tomorrow night,” dad said.

“Cool.”
It so wasn’t cool. Yes, the whole reason Gram and I had made this trip was to deliver that box to him but that didn’t mean I was actually prepared to do it. Margo finally showed up with dinner and served us. Steak, baked potato and asparagus. I stared at the food suddenly even less hungry than before if it was possible. I moved my asparagus around with my fork. Thinking about Uncle Ollie made my stomach hurt.

“The Rutherfords invited us to a dinner party next Friday,” dad said around a mouthful of steak.

“Oh, that’s lovely. How is Lily doing?” Gram asked. By the look on Gram’s face she didn’t care for Lily at all.

“You should ring her, mom.”

“Maybe I’ll do that,” Gram replied and chugged her wine.

Rutherfords? Rutherfords didn’t ring any bells. “Who’s that?” I asked.

“Of
the
Rutherfords,” dad said and swallowed down the last of his whiskey. And now it was all cleared up. I rolled my eyes and took a bite of asparagus. Brayden kicked me under the table again and I squinted an eye at him in warning. Brayden cleared his throat, “They’re like the Rockafellers of oil.”

“So they’re rich?”

“That’s an understatement. They make dad look homeless.

“Now, Brayden,” dad turned to look at me, “if our contract goes through with ACS Inc. then we might give old Barry a run for his billions.”

“Ha, so true dad.”

God what a suck up. Brayden and dad laughed and I stabbed at the potato on my plate. “Awesome,” I said with forced enthusiasm.

“Maddie, you're of the age now where you need to start networking, make connections. Connections get you everywhere,” dad said before taking another bite.

“Okay,” I said and speared my steak.

“Your father’s right sweetie. It ain’t what you know it’s who you know. You remember Taylor Dixon? Your mom’s best friend? That girl barely graduated high school her grades were so bad, yet somehow she lands an editorial position at The Daily Sun right here in Dallas. She only got that job because of you,” Gram said pointing at dad with her fork, “because of her connection to the Scotts.”

“Charlene could charm a snake when she needed to,” dad added. I resented him talking about mom’s charisma as if it were a bad thing. “The Scott name only opens so many doors.”

“Well, lucky for me my photos can speak for themselves.”

“That’s right Gram mentioned something about you changing majors again, photography or something.”

“Art communication with a focus on layout.”

“Where will you apply that?” I couldn’t ignore the condescension in his tone. Whenever the word art came up as a major around my dad he blanched.

“Advertising, editorials, television, the possibilities are endless.”

Dad nodded. “So what you’re saying is that you plan to photograph people in their underwear and call it art?”

Gram was looking at me too.

“No.”

Brayden said, “Come on dad, photographers who take pictures of people in their underwear make a fortune.”

Dad turned to Brayden, “Money or not she’ll be snapping pictures of half-naked people, not respectable.”

“Oh my god there are other things to photograph you know. Maybe I’d get a job with National Geographic. Or go work for an ad agency be responsible for piecing together brochures or—”

“You’re serious about making picture taking your life?”

“Mom said I had an eye—”

“Your mother indulged you too much.”

I threw my napkin on the table and stood. “Mom wanted me to be happy,” with that I left the dining room. There was no way I could take another minute of discussion about me. I stood outside the door, waiting. After a few minutes passed it was obvious no one was coming after me, or cared that I was upset. Tears stung my eyes but I refused to let them fall. If they didn't care then I wouldn’t let them affect me either.

I headed to the staircase figuring seven p.m. wasn’t to early too go to bed. The sooner this week was over the better. Through the picture window I glanced the pool. The pool lights were on flickering under the water like twinkling stars. It was quite inviting. A swim would be better than sleep.

I hurried through the glass doors and down the cobblestone path shucking off my clothing as I went. At the shallow end of the pool I kicked off my ballet flats and sat down on the edge easing my feet into the water. I swirled my toes in the water sending ripples across the water. I closed my eyes and inhaled. The air was warm carrying hay on the breeze. Between the warm water rushing over my feet and the sweet scent in the air all the tension in my shoulders melted away. I would not let dad’s dismissal of my career choice get under my skin.

When I opened my eyes, there he was smiling at me.

It was the gorgeous rider from earlier, swimming towards me. The muscles in his arms flexed with each stroke. My eyes never strayed from his perfect form gliding through the water. When he got to the steps of the pool he smiled at me. Trails of water glided down over his shoulders and chest wetting me as he made his way past me and out of the pool. My eyes followed the trails of water pausing to admire his back and the two dimples above his ass. His underwear slipped down enough allowing for a perfect view of the top curve of his cheeks.

What a gorgeous, round ass.
I wanted to bite it. He was wearing boxer briefs instead of swim trunks. The fabric clung to his skin leaving little to the imagination. He turned around. My mouth fell open.

He was very well …

“See something you like?”

Oh my god I was staring at his junk. I turned away quickly. He laughed. “Don’t worry you’re not the first to admire.” His southern accent was slight, like Brayden’s. Only a few of his words twanged. He must not have grown up in Texas. Maybe a transplant from Wyoming?

I jumped up and turned to him again, “You know they keep spare trunks in the cabana?”

He stopped at a lounge chair, “Would you wear another woman’s underwear?”

“No, that’s gross.”

“Exactly.” He grabbed a towel and started to dry off, “My boys don’t hang in another man’s banana hammock either.” He smirked. “Not that I mind looking, but I don’t want to be a perv either so …” He held another towel out to me.

That’s when I realized I was in my underwear, see through underwear, and instinctively my hands went to cover myself.

“Trust me you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

With looks like his I’m certain he’d seen lots
like
me before, but he hadn’t seen me and I’d like to keep it that way. At least for now. I grabbed the offered towel and wrapped it around myself. Once his towel was firmly wrapped and tucked around his waist he held out a hand, “Jonathan Ryan but you can call me JR.”

I made sure my towel was wrapped tightly too before taking his hand, “Maddie.” Even his hands were beautiful. Large palm that was slightly rough. Long, strong fingers which wrapped around my hand, engulfing it.

“Maddie? Is that short for something?”

“Might be. What’s it to you?”

“It’s nothing to me beyond curiosity.”

Staring into those grey eyes made it hard to think. “Yeah, it’s short for Matilda, and please don’t tell me you like Matilda better than Maddie.”

He laughed. “Oh god no, I had a great aunt named Matilda. She was ugly as a troll. Maddie is much cuter,” he was smiling again, “more fitting for you.”

I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t stop the blush creeping up my neck. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Hmm,” he scratched his chin, “I don’t know. If it was it was pretty bad huh?”