24. Hux
24
HUX
“Have you seen the marble waterfall islands? Gaaah, they’re gorgeous…” Dolly titters, her voice wafting out of the open kitchen window onto the large back porch of my parents’ house. “Only problem with them is that you can’t really do a built-in range with them. Which is probably okay in the long run, because then you don’t have to worry about putting the hood above the island and all that.”
“Careful or this little white dream house of yours is going to end up nothing more than a kitchen with some bedrooms,” Willa jokes.
“What’s your point?”
I hold back my snicker, not wanting to give away my position on the deck, or the fact that I’m clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. My insides squeeze as the two of them burst into giggles, the sound comforting and welcoming, even if not unfamiliar.
As the only girl in a family full of boys, Willa was always excited to have Dolly around growing up, viewing her as the older sister she’d been “cheated” out of. On more than one occasion, my baby sister tried to convince me that I should ask Dolly out as a teenager—make her a Hayes and actually her sister. Having her here for Sunday dinner with the family at Magnolia Manor is the next step toward that last part.
I hope.
As far as white houses go, Magnolia Manor isn’t exactly what one would call small. It did have to house nine of us for a number of years. Sitting pretty in the middle of large, rolling acres, just down the road from the family’s original plantation house, it’s Mama’s dream home. Our father built it for her shortly after they got married, since neither of them wanted to live in what is now referred to as Hayes House, which is used as housing for our seasonal workers.
“We can understand and respect history without celebrating it,” Auggie always says when asked why he doesn’t live in the massive antebellum house that his ancestor built with his Civil War fortune.
Instead, he built this place, a bright white, Victorian house with wraparound porch, large back deck, and built-in planters to fulfill Miss Belle’s dream. She named it Magnolia Manor after the region of Georgia that Hickory Hills sits in—and proudly points out that she named our home long before a TV network made another home with a similar name a household name.
I have no idea if this is the house that inspired Dolly’s love of white houses or not, but what I do know is that my parents’ story is what inspired my own secret fantasy of wanting to build that dream for her. Something that until a few weeks ago I thought I’d be doing for her to live in with someone else.
Shifting, I try to silently move the Adirondack chair I’m in closer to the window to hear a little better. But short of picking it up and placing it right under the window, this is about as good as it’s getting. So I lean over, trying to be inconspicuous, hoping my father, Milo, and Nash over at the grill don’t catch on.
“Can I ask you something?” Dolly’s voice goes serious, hushing a little so I have to strain to hear.
There’s a pause, albeit brief, but even through the exterior wall of the house I can see my sister’s face—brow scrunched, lips pursed to one side, the mix of skepticism and curiosity taking over.
“Not if you’re going to make me defend you not catering any of my wedding events again,” Willa comments. “You are family and you’re not going to be working that weekend. You’re going to attend this event and enjoy it, damn it.”
“No, that’s not it. Although it is about Nash.”
Hold the phone—Dolly wants to talk about Nash? That doesn’t make any sense. My sister’s fiancé is a regular customer at the diner though, so maybe that has something to do with it.
“My Nash?” Willa asks, sounding just as surprised as I am.
I lean in, straining even more to hear.
“Yeah. Well, specifically about your shift from…into…” Dolly trails off, not knowing how to finish her sentence. Can’t blame her there. None of us really know exactly how to define Willa and Nash.
“Hate-fucking frenemies to happily ever after?”
Okay, that works.
“Yes.”
“What do you want to know?”
My heart stops waiting for Dolly’s answer, mind running wild with questions about why she is curious. About what kind of answer or advice she’s looking for. This isn’t idle small talk between the two of them to fill the time while Dolly preps side dishes for the chicken we’re grilling. No, there is something deeper here.
“Was it…weird? Risking it all?”
Willa scoffs. “Well, Nash and I did everything the hard way, so…weird isn’t exactly the word I’d go with. But, he’s my person, and no matter what, he’s worth it. It’s him and me against the world.”
“I just?—”
A pork rind hits me, stealing my attention and pulling me away from the nearby conversation.
“Hux!” Milo calls.
Shit…
I scramble, trying to catch the girls’ voices again, but I can’t. Like a lost radio frequency, they’ve faded into the air, never to be found again.
Just what…Dolly just what?
Fuck!
I turn and glare at Milo, who doesn’t seem bothered one bit that he disturbed me. In fact, the shit-eating grin on his face relays the exact opposite.
“Eavesdropping are we?” he calls me out.
“No.”
It’s a lie. But I’m not going to own up to it. Especially since I have nothing to report on since he ruined it.
“Catch anything good?”
“I wasn’t listening,” I say, doubling down.
“Try telling us that again, this time without blinking your left eyelid,” Auggie says, side-eyeing me from the grill.
What?!
“It’s his tell,” our father continues. “Always has been. Winks with his left when he’s fibbing.”
Are you fucking kidding me?!
“Seriously?” Milo asks.
“No, I don’t!” Do I? Shit…I don’t actually know.
I look between the three of them, waiting for a response.
“Never paid that much attention,” Nash says.
“Yup.” Keeping his focus on the grill, Auggie claps the tongs together, Milo and Nash quickly stepping back to avoid being unwilling victims. “So, as I said, tell me that without winking.”
“What’s Hux lying about?” Gus asks, stepping through the sliding screen door.
“You knew about his tell?” Milo’s tone is incredulous, as if he were the one who was just outed, rather than the one being left in the dark about it.
“I don’t have a tell!” I try to defend, but it falls on deaf ears.
“You do,” Gus tells me, nodding as he sits in the chair next to me. “It’s subtle, but it’s there.”
Well, fuck…
“Who’s in the kitchen?” Milo turns his question to Gus, realizing that he’s not getting anything else from me.
“It was just Dolly and Willa, although Margeaux is in there now. Where’s Brenna?”
“She ran to Wright’s. We’re out of mustard. She should be back any minute,” Milo answers, then turns to look at me. His shit-eating grin grows, and he crosses his arms, looking smug as fuck. “So, what were baby sister and the ever lovely Dolly McLain talkin’ about that was so captivating?”
“I don’t know; I wasn’t listening.”
There, I said it without winking. I think.
“You were eavesdropping?” Gus half asks, half announces.
“Say it a little louder, August,” our father chides. “Sound only carries out of that window one way, after all—no chance of the ladies hearing you or anything.”
Glad to know you have my back, Dad.
Gus huffs out a breath, taking the mini dressing-down with ease. Settling into the chair more, he lowers his voice, leaning in a little and waggling his eyebrows. “They talking about anything good?”
“Just what kind of good are you hoping they’re talking about? One of them is our sister .”
“She’s not my sister…” Nash mutters, the smirk on his face making him resemble Bugs Bunny when he knows he pulled one over on Elmer Fudd.
We all choose to ignore his comment. Nash Keller is the only man on earth strong—and crazy—enough to take on our sister. And for that, he gets a pass when making comments that would otherwise make my skin crawl. Truly, he is her perfect match, and watching them finally get out of their own way and give in to the feelings we all knew they were hiding has been fun.
“Is it sundown, somewhere in Mama’s kitchen?” Milo says, throwing my own phrase back at me.
I smile, unable to help myself. The image of Dolly standing on the beach down at Somerset, the glow of the sunset surrounding her, with her beautiful blonde hair waving in the wind fills my mind, making my pulse race. For all the years that I’ve joked about it being sundown somewhere, and there being a “pretty little thing waiting on me,” I honestly never thought it’d be her. That I’d be this lucky.
“It is, isn’t it?” Gus tacks on.
I don’t answer that either. Instead, I take a sip of my Coke, wondering if I chug it, will it be obvious that I’m only doing that as an excuse to head into the kitchen and steal a kiss. To be fair, it’s the kind of move Auggie would make, so I feel like he would have to respect it.
“Actually, the better question, Huxley, is will Dolly be joining us on Sunday regularly from here on out?” the man himself asks, leveling me with a look. Damn, he’s good.
“Dolly’s always come to Sunday dinner.”
As my best friend, Dolly has joined the Hayes family for this meal on numerous occasions. Just not every week. Or even every time I do.
Sure, Sunday dinner isn’t what it once was—it’s been a while since all seven of us kids made it to a Sunday dinner on a weekly basis. Something that I know hurts Mama’s heart. She understands that we’re adults now, and that life has its own way of taking over, but I know that deep down she wishes all of us spent more time at the house. Especially now that some of us have started to pair off and she has other women around.
I can only imagine the guilt trips that will start once grandbabies arrive.
Still, having Dolly here isn’t unusual. So I pretend I don’t have any idea what my father is getting at.
“Not what I’m asking, son.”
He hands the tongs to Nash, who takes over, swapping places with him in front of the grill. A soft spring breeze cuts through the air, making the leaves rustle behind us as my father steps toward me. The look on his face is serious, but it’s not his I mean business face. It’s his time to fess up face.
Fuck, this man really is good.
I sigh, leaning forward in the chair, resting my elbows on my knees. It’s not like they don’t know, so I’m not sure why talking about this seems so difficult.
“Dolly was asking Willa about the shift between her and Nash, from whatever they were to more. I didn’t get to hear any more though because someone ”—I glare at Milo—“interrupted.”
Nash chuckles as he flips over the chicken, shaking his head. We all turn to look at my soon to be brother-in-law, wondering what elicited that response. As if he can feel all our eyes on him, Nash looks up, raising his hands in surrender.
“I have nothing to contribute here. Other than this—if that is how things are going between you two, I don’t suggest the sneaking around for a decade thing.”
“And maybe leave out the whole pregnancy scare thing too,” Gus quips.
“I don’t know that your mother and I would mind grandbabies,” Auggie jokes.
At least, I think he’s joking. Judging by the way he’s looking at the three other men on this deck, he might not be. All of whom pause, swallowing hard almost in unison, going slightly pale. At least the focus is off me for a second.
Only for a second though.
Auggie brings it right back, like a boomerang whipping through the sky.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Sure didn’t…
“Depends,” I say with a shrug, trying to be nonchalant. Not a single one of them believes my lackadaisical attitude though.
“On?” Gus prompts.
“A lot of things.” I lift a shoulder again, this time not out of nonchalance, but out of simply having no fucking idea. “Her, mostly.”
“Been a big couple of months for her, hasn’t it?”
I nod. “Yeah. So, I’m letting her call the shots here.”
“What does that mean for this weekend? When you make your announcement?” Milo asks.
Shaking my head, I bite down on my lip. I’ve been asking myself the same thing. “Dunno. Still figuring out how I’m gonna do it. Pretty sure that no matter which way I go, assumptions are going to be made and what’s between us won’t be secret much longer.”
The knot that has been slowly growing in my stomach over that tightens, another twist added to the cluster. I want to honor her desire to keep this between us, while also shouting it from the rooftops. Showing her off the way that she should be. Celebrating her and everything she does for Hickory Hills. I need to find the perfect way to do both.
“Between us,” I continue, gesturing to the small group surrounding me, hoping they know what I’m about to say stays here. “It’s no secret that as far as I’m concerned, she stops the world and spins it backward.”
“Good to see you’re finally willing to admit that,” Auggie comments.
“Only to y’all.” I pause, sucking in a harsh breath. “Just not sure if the shift between her and me is a forever thing in her mind, or if this is simply a get over one guy by getting under another kind of deal.”
“Huxley!” my father half scolds.
I can tell by his tone, matched with the tug of the corner of his mouth, that he’s only pretending to be taken aback by my choice of expression. That he’s doing it mostly because if my mama was present, she would be upset. Not that I would ever say such a thing in front of my mama.
“Yeah, Dad, because that’s the crassest thing Hux’s ever said…” Milo snarks.
I laugh, shaking my head. I know these guys understand, if for no other reason than they’re family, and that’s what family does. It also means I know that I have their support. Which feels damn good.
“To answer your question, Dad, maybe? Depends on if she’s as all in as I am.”
The screen door slides open, the sound of the metal dragging against the frame making all of our heads whip toward the house, conversation ceasing immediately. Like all five of us had been caught with our hands in the cookie jar.
My insides tighten, my breath hitching as Dolly steps outside, sucking all the air right out of the moment. Something about the cute little sundress she has on, covered by a frilly blue seersucker apron, makes me hard in an instant. All my self-control is tied up in holding myself back from yanking her into my lap and kissing her until she can’t breathe—until the only thing I can feel is her curves in the palms of my hand and her core grinding against me.
“Hey boys,” she greets, all smiles.
Walking straight over to Auggie, she hands him a small plate, one of her honey butter biscuits sitting squarely in the middle. My father lights up like a kid on Christmas, taking the plate from her with glee and wrapping an arm around her.
“I always knew you were my favorite child,” he mutters, not bothering to lower his voice so that any of his actual children might not hear.
“Thanks, Dad,” Milo comments.
“Don’t let your actual daughter hear that,” Nash retorts.
“Who do you think sent me?” Dolly replies with a wink.
Turning around, she walks over to me, handing me an almost identical plate and then planting herself in my lap. My mouth waters, and I’m unsure if it’s because of the biscuit, or because she’s now halfway fulfilling the mini fantasy I was just having. Shifting, Dolly makes herself comfortable, my dick twitching in reaction. There’s no way she can’t feel the semi that she’s helping hide, but damn if she’s doing a better job than I am pretending it’s not there.
Good thing I have this biscuit to distract me.
“Where’s ours?” Gus asks, playfully miffed that she didn’t bother to bring enough for everyone. “We don’t get a special delivery?”
I ignore him, biting into the warm, fluffy baked good, letting the honey butter drip down my chin. Oh, fuck…that’s delicious. Almost as delicious as the woman who made them.
“Ask your girlfriends,” Dolly sasses. “There’s plenty in the kitchen if y’all want some now. Or, you can wait ’til dinner.”
Gus opens his mouth, presumably to argue that she brought Auggie a biscuit, but then Margeaux sticks her head outside, the sun radiating off her red hair making it seem even brighter than normal. In a flash, Gus is up and out of the chair, heading indoors, the sound of Margeaux’s giggle ringing through the air.
“Brenna back?” Milo asks, the itch to go after a snack obviously eating away at him.
“Not yet.” Dolly shakes her head.
“Then I’ll wait.”
“Good, then take these.” Nash hands Milo the tongs, almost dropping them in the process, all but knocking over Anton as they pass in the doorway on his way to the kitchen.
“Y’all know there are fresh biscuits?” Anton asks, taking a large bite. “Oh, hi, Dolly. Guess that makes sense.”
Dumbass…
Popping the last bite into my mouth, I savor the sweetness, pulling Dolly into me. I feel her relax, the muscles in her back easing as she lets out a sigh. A happy sigh. A sound that is music to my ears.
“I will thank you properly for that biscuit later,” I whisper into her ear.
She giggles, turning to face me. “I like the sound of that.”
I steal a kiss, sealing my promise to her. For a brief, fleeting second, I think about taking it deeper, but we’re interrupted by my older brother.
“So, you wife this one up yet?” Anton asks, depositing himself in the chair Gus vacated.
For fuck’s sake…
“He’s workin’ on it,” Dolly replies, poking me.
Well, that was an unexpected response. Not at all unwelcome, though. Simply less snarky comeback than expected, and more sweet, sassy Dolly. I look over the top of her head at my father, who is giving me a side glance that says it all. Those four words answering my concern from earlier.
Doesn’t mean that we need to give the instigating little shit that is Anton any more room to run here, though.
“He should work faster,” Anton replies. “He’s dragged his feet long enough.”
I grunt, glaring at him. The urge to smack him rises in me, which I know is why he said it. This is what he does. Pokes and prods, instigating until one of us snaps. Usually, it takes a lot more than this to get me going too. But the brother right above me in the lineup also knows that the angel currently in my lap is my Achilles’ heel. Something that 99% of the time he’s good about respecting. Today is apparently the one percent.
Dolly reaches over, placing her hand on mine and squeezing. The warmth from the contact and the softness of her skin is enough to quell the murky waters in me, tamping down my desire to slap him upside the head.
Lucky for Anton, she’s as used to his shit as I am. She’s also even more unflappable.
Someday all this instigating is going to get him in trouble. All I can do is hope that I’m around to witness it firsthand.
“ Anton… ” Auggie warns.
“What?”
“Dude, I hope that whenever the woman of your dreams magically sprouts up from the peach grove, she fucking gives you hell,” I tell him, sending up a silent prayer that it happens sooner than later.
“That’s harsh.”
“Fuck around and find out, kid,” Milo adds.
“Pretty sure Anton’s not fucking anything,” Dolly retorts.
A collective gasp rings out, followed by a series of guffaws as we all burst into laughter. I yank Dolly into me, stealing another kiss, pride surging through me.
That’s my girl…
“I feel that was uncalled for,” Anton murmurs.
We all laugh again, the easiness of the moment surrounding us and solidifying in me something I already knew but have been too afraid to admit. I want this to be my every Sunday.
“Miss Dolly, did I hear that the menu for the parade breakfast was changing this year?” Auggie asks, righting the ship of conversation.
“I’m not sure who started that rumor, but…no, still the same it’s always been. Scrambled eggs, ham, grits, and biscuits and gravy. I’m not messin’ with tradition. That said, the new Dolly’s menu is in full swing, and there will be some fun specials highlighted for the weekend.”
“I am looking forward to finding a new favorite now that the patty melt has been retired.”
“Auggie, I will always make you a patty melt if that’s what you want. I’ll even make them for Sunday dinner one week if you’d like.”
If I thought my father had lit up before, I stand corrected. Because this time, it’s like the Griswolds’ house when Clark plugs it in.
“Oh, let’s not go makin’ those kinds of promises,” Miss Belle says, appearing out of nowhere. “We don’t want the man to get a big head and think he’s something special, now do we?”
“But I am special, Mama,” Auggie retorts, giving her a wink.
She playfully rolls her eyes, her own smile wide and bright. There’s no denying that these two are still very much in love, even after more than forty years of marriage and seven kids. Watching them is good for the soul.
“Is the chicken ready yet?” she asks, maintaining her Southern belle composure. It’s a poise and grace that only she can manage, but I’m pretty sure that as soon as they are behind closed doors, all bets are off—the thought of which is more than a little TMI. “The ladies are starving. And the table still needs to be set.”
She cuts a look to Milo, Anton, and me, the three of us boys getting the message loud and clear. Yes, ma’am.
“I want to be just like them,” Dolly whispers to me as I stand, taking her with me and then setting her down gently.
I steal another kiss, the thought of having the same staying power as my parents—or even hers for that matter, since they aren’t far behind mine in number of years together—making me happier than I can say.
Something I hope I can show her this coming weekend when I reveal Project: Second Star. From there, it’s straight on to morning.
“We’re on our way. Promise.”