15. Gus
15
GUS
“A Sob Story for me and a…”
I pause, peering out the open garage-style door of the warehouse-like space toward the picnic shelters. The new space is crowded, filled with people milling about for Drafts and Dig in, but that doesn’t stop me from zeroing in on my target. I’d know that beautiful crown of red hair anywhere. Question is, what’s she drinking tonight? I go with my gut, figuring I can’t go wrong with what we drank the last time we were here. But Brandt cuts me off.
“Silver Lining,” he says, sliding a pint glass toward me. “Your girl’s drinking Silver Lining tonight.”
Good to know I was right…
“Thanks.”
He slides a second glass my way, nodding once before turning to the person next to me, leaving me to get on with it. Thankfully.
The day already didn’t go as planned. What started out as a quick “do you have a second, this doesn’t look right” email from the head of accounting to Willa and me turned into an all-afternoon rabbit hole of numbers and invoices. Hell, we probably could have gone all night if Nash hadn’t called wondering where Willa had gotten to.
Needless to say, that derailed all carpooling plans I’d had. And while maybe it’s for the best that Margeaux arrived with one of the girls for looks’ sake, it’s time I wanted with her. Selfish of me? Yes. But I wanted to pick her up at her door, walk to the car, open the car door…all those “date” things. Even if we are going to deny that it’s a date if anyone asks. We know the truth, and I wanted those moments. For us.
At least she saved me a spot next to her at the picnic table.
“This seat taken?” I ask, placing the beers on the table and lifting one leg over the bench seat to sit next to her. The cool November air surrounds us, the last of the setting sun reflecting off the windows of the brewhouse.
My insides swell with excitement, as Margeaux turns to me, her bright smile in place, leveling me. Fuck, I don’t know that I will ever get used to that.
“Depends.”
Depends…
We’ve got our routine down pat, but this time, I’ve got the perfect answer locked and loaded.
“Well, I don’t have anything to sell, no plans to ask you about your relationship with the Lord and Savior, and I still know better than to mansplain.”
Margeaux’s smile kicks up a notch, and I swear the electricity in the air surges. The Edison bulbs strung under the picnic shelter flicker, and there’s no way it’s a coincidence.
It’s in the air…
“And hitting on me?”
“Can’t make any promises there.”
Margeaux scoots closer to me, leaning in, placing one hand in between my legs that are straddling the bench. My pulse quickens, and I inhale deeply, getting a whiff of her sweet scent. I have no idea what it is, something that is so uniquely her, but I can’t get enough of it. And I can’t wait for the day that it’s all over my bedsheets.
“Good.”
I laugh, the urge to steal a kiss overwhelming. I have no idea who is around us though. The whole place is packed which, from a business perspective, is great. I’m thrilled for Milo and Brandt that Pour Decisions—and Drafts and Dig In—is doing this well. I know they debated about adding this outdoor area for a long time, and it’s paying off.
However, right now, for me, so much of Hickory Hills getting in on this is putting a cramp in my style. This whole sneaking around thing is getting old.
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I wiggle my fingers, scratching her lightly through her sweater. Margeaux sighs, understanding my silent declaration, the warmth in her eyes saying the same thing back to me.
“Long day?” she asks, quietly enough so the question stays between just us.
I nod, taking a second to see who’s at our table. Rose, Pierce, Emily, and Alice are behind me, chatting away, oblivious to the rest of the group. Dolly’s fiancé, Jeff, is directly across from me, Dolly next to him, and then Hux is on the other side of Margeaux.
So, the gang is all here. At least those I orchestrated to help obscure my date.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Accounting found some…discrepancies, and…”
I stop, not really sure how much I should be saying. And not because she’s my direct report. This is the kind of thing that I shouldn’t be talking about with anyone within the company. Although, as my girlfriend…
“Say no more.” Margeaux holds up her hand, same way we did as kids on the playground telling each other to talk to the hand, ’ cause the face ain’t listening . Concern ripples over her face and I know she gets it. “Not the time or the place. Or the person.”
I flex my hand against her back, both loving and hating that she understands this so well. It’s no longer just an urge to kiss her. My entire body is in on it, my dick stiffening, wishing I could pull her into my lap and hold her close. I have no idea what I did to deserve this woman, but I am so grateful for her.
Leaning in, she whispers, “That said, should you want to tell your girlfriend later, behind closed doors, she’s a vault. An e-commerce experienced, MBA wielding, law-degree toting vault.”
I bark out a laugh, startling the entire table. Yeah, I abso-fucking-lutely do not deserve this woman.
“Have you eaten yet?” I ask, once again fighting the urge to kiss her. “Or can I buy your MBA wielding, law-degree toting, adorable self dinner?”
“I haven’t. I was waiting for you.”
A quick scan of our surroundings shows that everyone is deep in their own conversation, so I quickly press my lips to her temple. It’s not near enough—from a time or contact perspective—but it’ll have to do. For now. It does make that semi I’m already sporting even more distinct, and I’m going to have to find a way to discreetly adjust myself when we stand up, but that’s a small price to pay for being able to kiss Margeaux. Even if it was the most chaste kiss ever.
“Saw that,” Hux mutters.
“Oh, Huxley,” Margeaux croons, pushing up from the table, using my brother’s shoulder for leverage. “That’s so kind of you to offer to clear our empty glasses for us. Such a gentleman.”
I manage to suppress a laugh, but can’t hide my smirk as Hux grunts, rolling his eyes at her comment. Dolly giggles across the table, quickly finishing off the last of her beer and holding up her glass.
“Oh, look at how cute this one is!” she exclaims, holding out her phone for Hux to see with her other hand as he takes her glass.
“Add it to the file.”
I shake my head, automatically knowing that it’s a little white house, with some sort of porch—probably a wraparound—in some super idyllic setting. If I were a betting man, I might even go all in on there being a porch swing.
“Oh, that is cute,” Margeaux comments.
“I have this thing about little white houses,” Dolly says, turning the device to give Margeaux a better look. Sure enough, the little square house sits in the middle of lush green grass with beautiful gardens around it, winding paths leading up to the front, and even a pool designed to look like a pond in front. And what do you know, a porch swing. It is beautiful, although this one looks as though it might be computer generated. “Hux has been promising to build me one since we were kids, so I have this file for whenever I find one I like.”
“We can buy a house,” Jeff mutters. “There are plenty that are just fine already.”
Flexing my hand against the small of Margeaux’s back, we leave them be, not wanting any part of wherever this conversation might lead. Nothing good can come from that. I lead Margeaux over to the food truck, joining the short line, ready for a moment alone with her. The brightly colored truck looks like Mardi Gras exploded all over it, the greens and purples almost clashing with each other behind large yellow letters reading The Ragin’ Cajun.
“How original. Never heard that cliché,” Margeaux grumbles.
“So, not what we call Papa Duck? ”
“Only if you want to meet his butcher knife.”
Noted…
I turn to study the chalkboard menu, wondering what a Cajun restaurant on wheels could be serving. Admittedly, my knowledge of the cuisine is pretty basic, but they seem to have everything one would suspect. And from what I could smell, it was going to be good.
“They’ve got hush puppies, so you can tell how they?—”
“Hey Margeaux!”
Aaron’s voice cuts us off, sending a chill down my spine. It’s a quick, instinctual reaction. One that has nothing to do with being caught red-handed. No, it has everything to do with being territorial.
Because I know that tone. It hasn’t changed since we were teenagers. That’s not Aaron’s “I’m just being friendly” tone. That’s his “I’m interested” tone.
And what he’s interested in is mine.
“Aaron,” Margeaux greets.
I turn around slowly, trying to maintain my composure. Steeling my expression, I look him directly in the eye, all my emotions simmering under the surface.
“And Gus.” Aaron nods, clicking his tongue. “Shoulda known. Gus Hayes and the new girl. It’s freshman year all over again. All that’s missing is Dylan Barrowcliff.”
Margeaux throws a look over her shoulder at me, but I don’t bother looking away from Aaron. It wasn’t a competition then, and it’s not one now. Nonetheless, I’m not backing down.
“I’m hanging with my friend Dolly tonight, and Hux and Gus tacked on to our table. You’re welcome to join us,” Margeaux says, playing it off just as planned. I bristle inside, but her delivery is perfect.
“Oh no.” Aaron shakes his head emphatically. “I went down the Alice Evans road once. And the Emily Barrowcliff one. Don’t ask…it’s a small town.”
My ears perk up. The Emily thing is news to me. How did I miss the fact that he went out with my best friend’s little sister?
“I’ll just… I’ll see myself out.” Backing away, he holds his hands up in surrender. Looking up over Margeaux, he makes eye contact with me. “And…” He lifts his hand to his mouth, twisting as if he were turning a key in a lock and then tossing it over his shoulder, before walking away.
I nod, making a mental note to double his end-of-year bonus. Hell, triple it even.
“So, hush puppies,” I say again. It’s a stupid thing to try and transition with, but if it gets my heart rate to slow, then I’ll take it.
Quirking an eyebrow up at me, Margeaux moves forward with the line. “Just what did he mean it’s freshman year all over again? Hmmmm?”
“Let’s order and I’ll explain.”
We step up to the truck and quickly place our order. Red beans and rice for me, jambalaya for her, with some hush puppies to share. I can see the skepticism in Margeaux’s face when they ask me if I wanted the vegan or non-vegan version of my dish, but she manages to keep her comments to herself. Although the look she gave Dolly, who ordered the gumbo right behind us, was one of borderline fear.
“Hickory Hills is a small town,” I say, after we’ve settled back at the table with our food.
“I’ve noticed,” Margeaux quips.
“Well, as a kid growing up, that means that everyone you start kindergarten with is who you spend all your school years with. So, the summer before freshman year, a new family moved to town, and there was a new girl—a very pretty new girl—who was our age. And every guy in my class was into her.”
I take a bite of my beans and rice, letting her infer from there. The flavor isn’t bad, maybe a bit salty for my liking, but nothing a beer won’t solve.
“Dude, every teenage guy in town was into Carly Adams,” Hux adds.
“Wait…Adams…as in…” Margeaux says.
I nod. “Percy’s daughter.”
“You dated Percy’s daughter?” There’s amusement in her voice, relief washing over me that she doesn’t seem to care that my ex is her real boss’s daughter. I’m sure there are exes in her past I’ll need to know about as well, ones I may or may not care about. But seeing this reaction in her makes me think none of it will matter.
“All through high school. Right up until she went turncoat and went to Bama.”
Most of the table cringes at the mention of our rival. Except Margeaux. Who simply stares back at me with challenge in her eye.
“Sure hope such a thing isn’t still a deal-breaker.”
I start to respond, ready to give her a cheeky response that for three hundred and sixty-four days of the year we’re going to be perfectly fine. Actually, more than that, since UGA and LSU don’t play each other every season. But the years we do, lines are going to be drawn. God forbid we ever meet up in a bowl game or the national championship. I’m sure she’s going to have just as cheeky a response as well.
That is, until we’re interrupted.
“Damn, this is spicy!”
The table shakes as Jeff slams both his hands down onto it. Reaching for his beer, he makes a show of chugging a large portion of it, then wiping his brow .
“Really?” Margeaux replies. “Mine’s bland. Horribly so. Those guys should be ashamed.”
She pushes the jambalaya to the middle of the table. Jeff looks up, giving her a look like she’s insane.
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” I comment.
She looks at me with disgust. “Oh, it is. You want good Cajun food, I’ll make you good Cajun food.”
I smirk, ready to hold her to that. I didn’t even have to open the door for her to walk through it. She threw it open herself.
“Will you now?”
“Yup.”
“Margeaux’s family owns a Cajun restaurant in New Orleans,” Dolly says in the background. “Papa Duck’s. They were on?—”
“That the place Hux was stupid enough to drive you to?”
Margeaux looks to me, eyes wide, silently asking the unspoken question I’ve wondered for years. What does Dolly see in him? Usually Jeff is a nice enough guy, but that’s about where it ends. Nice enough. Not that I’ve spent a lot of time with him, but from the little I know, there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of depth. Granted, if you ask Hux, there are exactly zero redeeming qualities to the man. With the exception of him making Dolly happy.
Behind Margeaux I see Hux bristle, and I know that he’s ready to leap over the table and pummel Jeff. But I keep my focus on my own ragin’ Cajun in front of me. She’s a lot more fun.
“My place, tomorrow night.”
“Don’t you have roommates?”
“That can be rectified.”
A breeze cuts through the air, bringing a chill with it. Instinctively I wrap an arm around Margeaux, pulling her close. She leans in, my heart soaring. I should probably let go, probably stop and think about who could see us, but right now I don’t care. Her pressed against me like this feels too good to worry about anything.
“Oh, that breeze is cold!” Dolly says.
“Should have worn something warmer,” Jeff says. “It’s November.”
“Here,” Hux declares, whipping off the flannel shirt he’s wearing and passing it over the table, leaving him in just a long-sleeved Henley.
“No, then you’ll be cold,” Dolly states.
“I’ll be fine,” he grunts, crossing his arms.
Mouthing thank you, she takes the shirt and puts it on. It’s way too big for her and hangs off her like she’s a small child wearing her father’s shirt, but it’s endearing. It’s also something her fiancé should have done.
“I gotta take this,” Jeff says, holding up his phone. One that none of us heard ring.
“Did that even…” Margeaux whispers to me.
“I don’t think so.”
It’s silent for a moment, at least between the four of us. The din of conversation around us fills the background, highlighting the awkwardness of the moment.
“Hey Doll, whatcha makin’ for Friendsgiving?” Hux asks, cutting through the silence. He always knows the right thing to say to her, and this moment is no different.
Dolly perks up, as if the mere thought of cooking heals all ailments. “I’m not sure. I’m still torn between—oh my gosh! Margeaux! You should make one of Papa Duck’s recipes!”
“What?” Margeaux goes still next to me. Her head whips between the three of us, and suddenly it occurs to me that I haven’t filled her in on this tradition yet. Oooops.
Tightening my arm around her, I press my lips to the top of her head again, lingering long enough to inhale her sweet scent. “The Hayeses do Thanksgiving a little bit different. We do Friendsgiving.”
“And how exactly does it all work?”
There’s mischief in her tone and a glint in her eye that tells me she’s all in. It also tells me that I can up the ante. So I’m going to.
Twisting, I pull one leg out from under the table so I’m once more straddling the bench seat. I wrap both arms around her waist and yank her into me until her side is flush with my front. The giggle that escapes is music to my ears and sends a jolt of lust so powerful through me it’s a good thing I’m a grown man and can control myself. Because I damn near come right here just from that.
Fuck, the things I would do to her if she made that sound while we were naked.
“How about this, you come over tomorrow night for dinner, and I’ll explain it.”
“Am I doing the cooking?
“If you want.”
Margeaux purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at me. “You get rid of your brothers. I’ll bring the ingredients. We can have a spicy night in.”
A spicy night in? Well, that sends my mind straight for the gutter. Based on the smirk taking over my girl’s face, that’s exactly what she intended too.
“Deal.”