16. Margeaux
16
MARGEAUX
“Margeaux!”
I stop dead in my tracks, one foot on the bottom step to the small cottage Gus shares with two of his brothers. The little I have left in me plummets at the sound of Jace’s greeting—I don’t even bother to look up, my body deflating, while the heavy grocery bags cut into my fingers even more.
Looking up at him, my jaw twitches. The Hayes trademark smirk spreading across his face as he leans against a column on the wraparound porch is doing nothing to help his cause. I push forward, not bothering to take a moment to study the house past what is immediately obvious. Something I know I will regret later. It’ll be dark soon, and I won’t be able to take in all the little details that my brain will want to focus on for my secret, girly daydreams about making this my home.
But it’s fine. Totally fine. Just fine .
“I do not have the tolerance for little brothers tonight,” I snip, my tone terse. I realize just how nasty I sound as the words are coming out and immediately start to regret that too. After all, these aren’t my brothers .
“Whoa!”
Hands held up in surrender, his face morphs into slight surprise, but he doesn’t move, his body language still completely unbothered by anything that is going on around him.
“She told you,” Hux remarks, giving Jace a shove. “Take a bag.”
Reaching out, Hux takes one of the offenders whose straps are currently cutting off circulation to my fingers. I give it over willingly, enjoying the rush of feeling back to my digits. The soft smile he gives as he turns back toward the house is full of understanding and something else—something I can’t name—but it eases my annoyance that they’re still here.
To a degree.
“What did I do?” Jace asks, shrugging a shoulder.
“You’re still standing there,” Hux barks, walking into the house.
“Oh, sorry.” Quickly taking the other bag, he holds out a hand, offering to help me up the stairs. I take it, not really needing the help but appreciating the gesture, nonetheless.
“Sorry, it’s been a day,” I tell him, following him into the house.
“Seems to be a lot of that going around.”
His comment doesn’t make a lot of sense, but then I see Gus.
Pacing.
I’m barely two steps into the small foyer, the staircase leading up to the second floor to my right, with what looks to be an office adjacent to it. The long narrow hallway that leads to the rest of the house brightens and darkens as Gus moves back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear. His tone is low enough that I can’t hear what he’s saying, but the hunch of his shoulders speaks volumes .
It's nothing good.
“I put the groceries in the kitchen,” Hux tells me, scooting past Gus on one of his passes at the far end of the hall. “Which is back that way and to the right.”
I nod, not taking my eyes off the stiff, tense figure in front of me. My heart squeezes, calling out to him, trying to let him know that I’m here, and I can help. Despite my own shit day.
“House is yours for the night,” he continues. “Have at it.”
A single chuckle escapes, not knowing if he meant it as a joke or what. From the little I know of Hux, it could go either way. “Thanks.”
Jace gives me a single nod, then a wink. “And nothing to be sorry ’bout. We like women who can hold their own in this family.”
I smile, the soft snick of the latch filling the foyer as they close the door behind them. Gus is still pacing, seemingly oblivious to my arrival. Taking a few more steps inside, I do what I didn’t get to when I arrived—take in my surroundings.
The mostly bare walls leave little doubt that a group of bachelors live here, the round, braided area rug just inside the door having seen some better days. The small office off to the side of the stairs is simply decorated with a large desk, neatly stacked with folders that don’t seem to be marked in any way, and a wood filing cabinet on the far wall. A large oil painting of Hayes House is hung on the wall, the signature in the corner dated 1926.
“Yeah, sure…talk then…” I hear Gus say, so I turn back to the hall.
Our eyes lock the second I round the corner, his face brightening. My heart squeezes all over again, only this time, I want to fall into his arms and stay there for the rest of time.
“You look how I feel,” he tells me .
“I don’t quite know how to take that.”
Because he looks like he feels like…well, shit. And I have no idea if he’s really telling me I look like…well, shit. Presumably not.
At least, I hope he isn’t.
Gus shakes his head, the same embarrassed smile from when he admitted to smudging my number reappearing. Pocketing his phone, he steps into me, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me into him.
Instantly, all is right with the world.
“It sounded better in my head, promise.” The heat from his touch settles around me, easing some of the anxiousness coursing through me. The chaste press of his lips to my forehead helps too—a salve that only he can provide. “But man, are you a sight for sore eyes. One I had no idea how badly I needed. You being here is making everything better.”
I exhale, letting out every last bit of air in my lungs, relaxing into Gus. I wind my arms around his waist, holding him close, letting him continue to be what I need too.
“Same.”
Gus pulls back, carefully tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, his gaze meeting mine. He looks at me for a moment, as if he’s searching for some answer, trying to download from my brain why I’m also in a funk.
I wait for him to ask. To question what it is. Instead, he kisses me.
It’s slow, easy, practiced. As if we do this every day. Come home to one another and fall into each other’s arms to let the day melt away. Something that is easy to do while he’s holding me like this. Because nothing is wrong with the world if Gus Hayes is kissing me. All hell could break loose, and I’m pretty sure I would not notice if his lips were pressed to mine.
“None of that matters now though,” he whispers .
I scoff. “Pretty sure it all still matters.”
“Nope. All that matters is that you’re here. Just you, me, and our spicy night in.” He pokes my tummy, as if I were the Pillsbury Doughboy, and I can’t help but give him the exact reaction he’s looking for, poking him right back as I giggle. “So what are we making?”
“I might have gone a bit overboard…” I grit my teeth, more than a little embarrassed to own up to this portion of my afternoon. Gus sees it in my face but lets me continue, silently wrapping an arm around me and leading me into the kitchen. “It was a day, and I left a little early to go to the grocery store—don’t tell my boss.”
Despite the small foyer, the backside of the cottage is much roomier. The decent-sized kitchen opens up to an eating area, with a long farm-style table that seats twelve and a living room on the opposite end. Still very much decorated as a bachelor pad with a large leather sectional, massive TV, and minimal décor, there is something homey about it.
Gus holds his hands up, same as Jace did earlier on the porch. Much like him and Milo, there’s enough difference in their features that at times you don’t see it, but then they do something, and the resemblance and connection is undeniable.
“And I couldn’t decide between étouffée, catfish courtbouillion, maque choux, and dirty rice, so I got it all. I thought about boudin, but to do that properly, we really need more time. Either way, we have enough food to feed an army. Part of me thinks I should have told your brothers to stay for dinner.”
Pulling the items from the bags, I place everything out on the small island in the middle of the kitchen. It’s a tight space in spots due to the layout, but one that has been updated into something practical and useful, with a double oven built into the wall, a stovetop on the island, and plenty of storage and prep space.
“We could always call them and have them come back,” Gus quips, helping me unload.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not. I was not kidding when I told Jace that I don’t have any tolerance for little brothers tonight.”
Gus reels back at my answer, amusement in his eyes. “Please tell me you told him that.”
I nod. “He was a little too chipper when I got here. And after what happened at the grocery store, I…” I pause, trying not to let myself get worked up again. I’m not even sure what the right emotion is that is flowing through me right now, but it has my heart rate moving at a breakneck pace.
“What happened at Wright’s?”
I wave him off, not wanting to make a thing of it. Looking around, I think for a moment, wondering if I were a cutting board, where would I be? I open a couple of drawers, not finding what I’m looking for, so I turn back to the island and find Gus holding one.
“What happened at the store?” he repeats.
“I apologized to Jace. I didn’t mean to snap at him. I don’t want your brothers to think that I’m some?—”
“Margeaux.” Gus’s voice is deep and rough. The hand that grabs ahold of my wrist is firm, stopping my movements, yet still gentle, letting me know he’s not going to hurt me. Closing the gap between us, he lets go of my wrist, cupping my face in his hands. “I’m not worried about Jace. He deserved it, I’m sure. And he has Willa as a sister, so it’s nothing he’s not used to. I do, however, very much give a damn about whatever happened at Wright’s.”
Fine, he wants to go down this road, we will.
“I met Mrs. Burch. And I may or may not have a date with Jake Wright tomorrow evening. I’m not really sure. ”
Gus drops his hands, eyebrows arching upward. Yup, saw that coming.
I turn back to the food, grabbing a bell pepper and starting to chop. My weird mess of emotions and need to eat my feelings will only be properly solved once these ingredients are in a pan, properly spiced.
“Come again?”
“I met Mrs. Burch. And I may or may not have a date—” I start, but Gus stops me with a kiss, this one hot, hard, and punishing. The exact opposite of the serene, restorative moment we shared before.
“You do not have a date with Jake Wright this weekend.”
“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” I taunt, liking that this is getting such a rise out of him. “I just might.”
“Nope, sure don't. Know how I know? Because you're going to be here with me all weekend.”
I swallow hard, a shiver shooting straight down my spine, desire coursing through the rest of me. Possessive Gus is something I didn’t realize I was going to like so much. Nor did I realize that was his plan. I didn't pack for an overnight, much less all weekend.Not that Hayes House is all that far. We are on the same property. It wouldn't be that hard to go get my toothbrush, but still.
“Am I being held captive?” I push, because I know I can. Because I know he knows that I’m in this, and that even if I wasn’t going to be here, that I wouldn’t be going out with the local grocer.
No matter what the town gossip says.
“I wasn’t planning on keeping you tied to my bed naked,” Gus replies, narrowing his eyes and licking his lips. “Unless that’s what you want.”
Oh, fuuuuck…
Pure lust ripples through me, shooting straight to my core. I shift my weight, feeling myself go wet just from that one offer. Because there is a part of me that does want that. Another part that might want to reverse the roles.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Gus Hayes.”
I turn back to the veggies, chopping in earnest now. Gus tsks next to me, grabbing another pepper and joining me in the chopping. I manage to hold back a laugh, but only barely, my mood lightening significantly as we continue. Just being here with him is more than enough to alleviate so much of the weight that I’ve been shouldering.
Rocking to one side, Gus nudges me. “Tell me what Mrs. Burch said.”
“I don’t even know how she knew who I was, but she walked right up to me as I was picking out veggies and started giving me the once-over, like I was the prize hog at the county fair.”
“Sounds about right. And she has her ways. Best not to ask how she knows things. One of those moments that ignorance really is bliss.”
I tip my head to the side, accepting that he knows. He’s put up with this longer than I have. Willa and Bronwyn warned me about the old lady and her counterpart, the town math teacher, Mrs. Chamberlain, who apparently rule this town with tongues that waggle faster than puppy dog tails. And it’s not that I thought they were lying, but that still somehow left me unprepared for how sharp her tongue was. Much harsher than any puppy dog tail I’ve ever encountered.
“I passed appraisal, but only just barely.” I clear my throat, trying to imitate her voice. “Hmmm, at least they hired a Southerner this time.”
“That’s a jab at Bronwyn.”
I figured as much. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that a Yankee wasn’t going to be immediately welcome in some circles around here.
“Then she starts in on the questions. Very personal questions. We couldn’t start with the basics like where I grew up or even my favorite color. No, we went straight for why I’m not married, and if I really think that those fancy degrees of mine are going to impress men. Next thing I know, Jake, the manager, got roped into the conversation and she’s telling me about how he’s also single, semi-recently jilted by Kenzie now Wilder and that we should go out. Tomorrow night. She even went as far as to call the Kountry Kitchen and tell them to expect us at seven p.m.”
“Sounds about right. Although, I’m not sure I’d call Jake jilted by Kenzie. It’s not like they were all that serious. I don’t think. And that was like two years ago. But one thing I can absolutely promise you, pretty girl, is that you don’t have a date with Jake Wright.”
I stop chopping, turning to face him, cocking my hip out. “And how can you promise that?”
“Because Jake Wright hasn’t stepped foot inside the Kountry Kitchen in more than a decade. Not since Suzanne Douglas, his ex, who also happens to be the owner’s daughter, tried to poison him after he broke up with her.”
I gasp, my jaw going slack, eyes about to pop out of my head. Holy shit. Talk about small-town gossip. Where was Mrs. Burch with that one?
“What?”
“Poisoned may be a bit harsh, and no one’s ever been able to prove it, but…” Gus starts to laugh, and it takes him a moment to regain his composure. “He, Z Noble, and Hux had the shits for weeks. She told him no hard feelings, but…”
“Apparently no hard bowel movements either,” I mutter.
A loud, deep guffaw explodes out of Gus. Throwing his head back, he drops the knife, his laughter echoing through the kitchen. His reaction makes me laugh, mostly because my own quip wasn’t that funny. If anything, it was probably in poor taste considering we’re cooking .
His laughter dies down, but his smile remains in place as he turns to me, looping an arm around me. “I meant what I said. I want you to stay all weekend. I know I sprung it on you, and so you’ll probably have to go grab some things, but please. Spend the weekend here. With me.”
My heart soars, his simple declaration more than enough to sweep me off my feet. Honestly, everything about this man does that. I have yet to see a part of Gus that isn’t genuine. Even through all the endless flirting—which I love and crave more than I can say—I know that his words are heartfelt. That he’s not saying things just to say them.
Which is even more of a turn-on.
“Happily.”
Gus pulls me in for a kiss, once more like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I have to fight so that I don’t lose myself in this feeling. Because I could. Without question. At this point, my concern isn’t spending the weekend with Gus—it’s leaving at the end of it. There’s little doubt in my mind that come Sunday evening, going back to my apartment half a mile away at Hayes House, I’m going to be leaving more than a small part of my heart here. And what I do bring back with me is going to be a bit tender.
Okay, more than a bit.
“Want to tell me what has you so grumpy?” I ask, throwing the question out there like a life preserver into open water. Turning back to the island, I start in on the rest of the ingredients, following the steps I know by heart almost without thinking, waiting for an answer.
“Nope.” His answer is hard and final. “I would love for you to continue to distract me though. Mrs. Burch couldn’t be the only thing that soured your day.”
No…
“She wasn’t. But it’s work-related and?—”
“I’m not wearing my boss hat. ”
I flick my wrist hard and fast, slicing through the onion on my cutting board in one fell swoop. “Teresa.”
“Still?”
“Still?!” I exclaim, my voice so shrill it’s borderline piercing, even to me. “Gus, it’s like she looked at Dolores Umbridge, Miss Trunchbull, and Captain Hardcastle and said ‘I’d like to join your ranks!’”
“I only know who one of those is.”
“Miss Trunchbull is from Matilda and Captain Hardcastle is from Boy , both by Roald Dahl,” I explain, making the assumption he knows the Harry Potter character. Which, maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe he’s read one of the others and I’m the one who’s going to look…nope, the nod he’s giving me affirms I’m correct. Well, there we go. “Both, like Dolores Umbridge, were tyrannical monsters who abused the protagonist, basically out of spite.”
I thwap the knife down again, the frustration that I’ve been tamping down all week rising in me now that I’ve opened the gate.
“Doesn’t matter what I do. Seriously, does. Not. Matter. I sit there, minding my own business, and she accuses me of thinking I’m too good for the group. I try and join in the conversation, and she snaps that no one was talking to me. She’s not my superior in any way, other than having seniority simply out of being with the company longer, but she is constantly handing off things to me that she doesn’t want to do. Then gets upset when they aren’t done on the timeline she wants them done on, since I have my own projects I have to complete.”
“How’s about I just take this?” Gus reaches over, taking the knife out of my outstretched hand.
Oh, ooops…
Guess I started talking with my hands and didn’t realize it. Maybe it’s time to move over to the stove and get the meat started. Grabbing it from the counter, I spin, finding Gus poised and ready with a pan. I take it from him, enjoying this new rhythm we’re finding.
“Want me to step in?”
“No! That would make it worse. Because she already got pissy about the whole drugstore building thing. And what happened to not wearing your boss hat?”
“I know, sorry,” he replies, bringing over a plate of chopped vegetables. “Speaking of the drugstore, I don’t think I saw the contract this afternoon. Pretty sure today was the deadline I gave.”
“It was.”
He sighs, the long, heavy exhale filled with more than just concern over a missed deadline. The two deep lines between his brows reappear, and my insides clench, wishing I could take away whatever this is that’s bothering him.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s harmless. Really.”
I glare at him, making it perfectly clear that I don’t appreciate him trying to placate me. He nods, reading the message loud and clear.
“I’m not trying to minimize it. But I also know that you’re tough and you can handle your shit. One thing we haven’t done a good job of in the legal department is being very diverse in our hiring. Percy’s a little old school that way. So, I’m sure it’s nothing more than a case of Teresa being used to being the only woman in the department. She’ll adjust.”
I shake my head. There’s more to it than that. This is way more than just corporate girl-on-girl crime. It goes deeper. I can feel it in my bones. I just don’t know what . Or how deep.
“I’m used to professional jealousy,” I say, keeping my focus on the pan. “Fighting your way to the top as a woman isn’t easy and it comes with a lot of crap. But this…this isn’t that, Gus. This is something else.”
“What you’re used to is high-powered corporate backstabbery. This is small-town subterfuge. Different game. She can’t play yours, so she’s stooping to hers, that’s all.”
Damn, I hope he’s right. Still, something about it feels different.
Regardless, I need a change of subject. I refuse to let it eat away at me all night. Refuse to give her any more of my energy. Especially when he needs my energy right now.
“Small-town subterfuge isn’t what’s eating away at you though.”
He shakes his head, turning so that he’s leaning against the counter, facing away from me. “No, it’s bigger than that. It’s…I dunno.”
“Hey,” I reach over, placing my hand on my forearm and squeezing. “E-commerce experienced, MBA wielding, law-degree toting vault, remember?”
He chuckles, nodding. “Chris, our chief accountant, discovered some payments that aren’t quite lining up.”
I blink, his statement sinking in. That doesn’t make sense. Accounting’s not my area of expertise at all, even when I worked in e-commerce, but I know enough to be dangerous, and well, that math doesn’t math.
“What do you mean ‘not lining up’?”
“Weird invoices. To a vendor no one has ever heard of. For generic services rendered no one seems to know anything about. The early ones were initially attributed to Corporate Giving and Hayes Cares, but then they got moved to a general ledger of expenses. It’s all just a little…weird.”
“Oh, Gus.”
“Yeah. Been a long couple of days with a lot of numbers.”
My head hurts just thinking about that. My heart hurts even more knowing that both he and Willa have probably damn near gone cross-eyed trying to figure out the issue. The two of them might not see eye to eye on many things, but both are equally passionate about what they do, and about their family as a whole.
Gus heaves out another breath, deflating even more. I can tell he needs a distraction. Something to take his mind completely away from all this. Leaving me with only one option.
“Well, you know what solves this kind of thing?” I say, hip checking him playfully. He’s not the only one who needs this. I promised a spicy night in, so it’s time we throw ourselves into our adventure.
Gus quirks an eyebrow at me, asking the silent question in return.
“Cajun food. It heals the soul.”
“Is that right?”
The smirk he gives me says it all, but I double down anyway.
“It’s common knowledge, sir, that étouffée makes everything better. Everything . And dirty rice? Well, name speaks for itself.”
“As long as the rice isn’t the only thing getting dirty,” he whispers, leaning down and placing a kiss just beneath my ear.
I shiver, leaning into him, craving more of his touch. More of this magnetic pull between us.
Magic is in the air. I can feel it…
“It won’t be.”