Beautiful March Read online

  There are a lot of things I didn’t expect being back home. Seeing Maybelle here at the strip club is one such thing.

  “Maybelle, what are you doing here?”

  She spins around before answering me. “I could ask you the same thing.” Maybelle pulls me further onto the dance floor snapping me out of my Tyler haze. Closing my eyes, I start to move with the electric pulses, letting the music guide my body.

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “So, what’s going on with you and Mister Nichols.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Tyler, his name is Tyler. What’s with the Mister Nichols crap?”

  Maybelle tosses her head back in a laugh. “Tyler comes into The Tea Room sometimes. He’s a big fan of the Woodford Pudding.”

  “Ah, so you’re just maintaining a professional relationship with the man.”

  “And you’re obviously . . . not,” she yells in my ear over the music.

  I’m not entirely sure how to respond to her. No one knows that I’d been dating Scott. If I admit to getting dumped, she’ll press me for the details, and Maybelle has the biggest mouth in town.

  “Personally, I think he’s trying to steal my recipes for his own restaurant.”

  I take a deep breath. “He doesn’t strike me as a man who needs to steal recipes.”

  When I look over, I see Aaron Collins, Sawyer’s younger brother, take a seat across from Tyler. When we were kids, Aaron came to my defense more than a few times. Tried to get his brother and his band of assholes to stop talking shit about me, but they just hazed him—harder.

  They start to chat, but Tyler’s eyes are on me. At least it seems like his eyes are on me. Maybe my cousin is much more his type. Blond, beautiful and curvy in all the right places. Every man in the place whose eyes aren’t focused on the naked strippers are staring at Maybelle. Tyler being the exception, maybe.

  “Oh, my goodness, the way that man in staring at you . . .” She fans herself. “Girl, I think my panties are on fire. He’s the most eligible bachelor south of the Mason Dixon line. Practically every woman from here to Nashville wants a piece of him.”

  She would know. Maybelle is the town gossip. For that matter, she’s the county gossip. And maybe gossip is a bad word choice, but she seems to know everything about everyone.

  Small towns.

  In addition to knowing all the spicy happenings in the county, Maybelle’s resume includes: homecoming queen, county fair queen, state fair queen and the bourbon festival queen. Would have made it all the way to Miss Teen USA if Cherilyn Nusbaum hadn’t gotten her boobs overnight. At least that’s what Maybelle believes, despite the fact that we all know Maybelle fumbled her interview, and her talent performance was less than her best.

  But we’ll let her have her memory.

  For the most part, Maybelle’s a happy soul. She’s suspicious by nature on account of her mom being a complete asshole. Maybe Maybelle’s just cautious because of the things her mom did to her when she was younger. Can’t say being cautious isn’t a good quality to have.

  Maybelle’s the pretty popular girl. The true girl next door.

  I, on the other hand, was the quiet girl back in the day. When we were younger, aside from Sage, books and music were my best friends. When Sage and I weren’t trying to be like Princess Leia, we were making playlists of our favorite songs.

  Maybelle moves in closer as the song shifts to SHAED’s “Trampoline.” She puts her hands on my shoulders. “So, what’s up with you and Tyler—I mean really. Girl, are you sleeping with him? I tried and failed to get that man under me.”

  I catch Tyler’s eyes again. My skin heats up at the thought of his hands on me. But Tyler is off limits because of my asshole ex. Maybe I shouldn’t even care. After all, Scott dumped me and I’m allowed to have a little fun. I can’t help the little smirk that turns up the corner of my mouth.

  “Oh, so that’s how it is,” she coos.

  “It’s not like anything,” I reply. “I happened to be at his restaurant the other night and we ended up having dinner and talking. He’s Reed Sinclair’s best man, so as you can see, we’re in the wedding party together.”

  “Ah yes, the social event of the season—Sage Maxwell’s wedding. It’s all the town can talk about.”

  I look at her sideways. “What? I didn’t know this town was capable of talking about anything other than rumors and bourbon.”

  She laughs, taking up her hair and then letting it fall over her shoulders. “You’re funny, Haven.”

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “Ugh, I’ve been in a dry spell for about three months.”

  “Don’t worry.” I lean in to Maybelle. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to warm your bed soon enough.”

  She cocks her head in Tyler’s direction. “Hmm, maybe. Aaron Collins is looking really good these days. He moved back from New York and decided to take up his daddy’s medical practice.”

  “Doctor Collins retired?”

  Maybelle’s eyes turn mischievous and then her hands land on my hips. “Yes, ma’am. Let’s give Tyler and Aaron a show.”

  I slow, my body feeling Tyler’s gaze on me and the heat rolls down my spine like lava. “Maybelle, this seems really juvenile,” I protest. “We’re not thirsty twenty-somethings.”

  “You need a drink?” she asks, licking her lips.

  I laugh. “No, it’s a saying—another term for attention whores.”

  Her fingers dig into my hips. “Oh, honey, this is definitely the place where one comes for attention. Or they come here to play out their pleasures in the dark.”

  “There are much nicer places to play out pleasures—I wouldn’t pick this place.”

  She scoffs. “Not my first choice either, but I figure if I come here every so often, I might catch a billionaire or a pop star passing through and sink my teeth into some fresh meat.”

  Maybelle’s hands run up the sides of my ribcage in a slow playful gesture. We’re cousins after all, and I’m not sure people are getting that much of kick out of watching us dance. My pulse speeds up a little bit when she pulls me closer. “Don’t you think this is bordering a little on incestuous?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “Tyler and Aaron seem to be enjoying themselves.”

  Twisting my head to the side, I see Tyler leaning back, with one arm over the back the couch. Aaron’s posture is completely relaxed as he takes a long slow drink. I start to move more, enjoying the way that the two men are looking at us.

  I’ve never had a man look at me the way that Tyler Nichols does. Hundreds of men in Los Angeles and not one of them ever made me feel like I could come undone with a single look. Maybe the bourbon has gone to my head. This man sets my blood on fire just by watching me. Yes, must be the alcohol.

  “Mind if I join you, ladies?” Sage appears at the edge of the dance floor with a drink in her hand.

  “Sage, where the hell have you been?”

  “Getting a lap dance.”

  “This entire time?” I ask, my eyes bulge out of my skull.

  Maybelle clears her throat. “So, are we gonna give these guys a show or what?”

  Sage slides her hand around the back of my neck pushing her leg between my thighs. Maybelle moves behind Sage and we start to move leisurely to the music. I take the glass from Sage’s hand and toss back a swallow. It isn’t enough to cool my overheated skin.

  “They’re all starin’ at us instead of the stage,” Maybelle whispers.

  “Well, of course, they are,” Sage says, and turns away from me. She works her hips and grinds against Maybelle. “We leave something for the imagination.”

  A tall man wearing an ill-fitting black suit stands before us. “Okay, ladies,” he says, before clearing his throat. “You’re distracting the patrons and my girls aren’t making any money. I don’t want you to go because you’ve racked up quite the alcohol tab for me, but the claws are going to come out.”

  “We’re just dancing,” Maybelle informs.

&
nbsp; My eyes swing to the stage. “Get outta here, princess,” a stripper wearing only purple and gold body paint barks. “You don’t belong here.”

  “Go back to the country club,” another voice shouts.

  Maybelle snickers, eyeing me over the rim of the bourbon glass.

  “Don’t do it,” I mouth.

  “Okay, we’ll go.” Sage holds up her hands.

  “We don’t need to get our asses kicked the night before your wedding.”

  “Actually, Stan,” Maybelle interjects. “My friends are getting married tomorrow.” Her hands smooth along the lines of his lapels. “How about you let them have some fun in the champagne room and you send another round to that table over there.”

  My eyes close and I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. Of course, Maybelle’s on a first name basis with the manager.

  Shaking his head, he puffs a heavy breath. “Fine, you got it, Maybelle.”

  The lights pass over the dance floor and the stage lights up. “Maneater” comes blaring through the speakers and that’s our cue to exit stage left.

  Tyler

  A woman in a pink bustier and black thong approaches our table. “Do me a favor, gentlemen, take your ladies home before someone loses a chunk of hair.” Her chin tips. “Or worse.”

  Aaron snickers into his glass. “Only in Mayfield. This is why I came back here.”

  Reed hoots. “They’re just having some fun dancing, Rhonda.”

  “I’m serious, Reed,” she rebukes. “What are y’all even doin’ in a place like this?”

  “I guess we’re leaving.” Reed shrugs and returns his gaze to the dance floor.

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll take the bill,” I tell Rhonda.

  Haven slides in next to me on the couch. “I’m not tired.”

  “Still on Pacific time, huh?”

  “Yeah, it kinda sucks.” She pries the glass from my hand and takes a quick swallow.

  “Hi, Haven,” Aaron says, leaning forward and placing his glass on the table.

  Haven leans across my body, her breasts brushing the tops of my thighs. The angle gives me a prime view of her back and I try desperately not to let my stare fall to the swell of her ass.

  “Hi there. Maybelle told us that you were back and taking over for your dad.”

  The pulse of the music drowns out their voices and all I can seem to focus on is the nude woman on stage grinding to the beat of Hall and Oats, which thankfully keeps my dick from throbbing against Haven’s tits.

  “Thanks for the fun, buddy.” Reed stands and pulls Sage into his arms. “We’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

  “Don’t wait up for me,” Sage says to Haven.

  “I won’t.” She waves to Sage and returns to her conversation with Maybelle and Aaron.

  Rhonda returns with the bill and I hand her my black card. “Thank you.”

  Haven leans back and my eyes meet hers. “What should we do?”

  “I know a place that will make you a La Perla.”

  Her green eyes gleam with delight. “You do, huh?”

  The way she’s looking at me—playful. It tugs at something inside me. Something deep that I’ve not felt in a long time. Maybe ever.

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Haven stands, tucking her clutch under her arm.

  “Settle down there, trouble. I need to get my credit card back and sign the bill,” I answer.

  She laughs, smoothing her hands over her glossy blond hair. Rhonda hands me back my card and I tuck it into my money clip.

  “Okay, well, it was good to see y’all,” Haven says and hugs Maybelle.

  My hand lands on the small of her back as we cross through the club heading toward the door. She gifts me with a smile over her shoulder. I can feel the heat radiating off her body and her perfume crashes over me like a tidal wave.

  “I’m impressed that you know what a La Perla is,” she mentions as we cross the parking lot.

  “I like reading up on the trends in cocktails. And having signature cocktails, something other than bourbon, on the menu at Saffron House doesn’t hurt either.”

  “Seems to be a good marketing strategy. I get so sick of bourbon. I’m surprised my family hasn’t come up with a line of beauty products—bathe in bourbon. Or bourbon gummi bears.”

  Laughing, I open the passenger door to my Ford F-150 for Haven. I wait as she climbs into the cab. The drive to the restaurant is mostly silent aside from the low hum of the local country station that pipes through the speakers.

  “It’s so quiet here,” Haven mentions, gesturing toward the front window. “How do you live with the quiet.”

  I lift a shoulder and bring the truck to a slow stop in front of the laundromat and tanning salon. Smyrna Hills is a bit bigger than Mayfield, but not by much.

  “It’s peaceful. I don’t notice it because I spend a lot of time working or at my ranch. There’s always noise with the horses.”

  “You live on a ranch?” she asks.

  The light changes from red to green and we roll through the intersection. “What? You think these muscles are built by pushing papers around an office.”

  Her head falls forward on a laugh spilling her blond hair over her bare shoulders. The fact that Haven is insanely beautiful isn’t lost on me. She has a genuine smile that highlights the deep green in her eyes. I like hearing her laugh.

  “I figured you worked out at the gym like every other soul on the planet.”

  I make a left turn onto Main Street. The lights from the diner and coffee shop illuminate the small stretch of street. I maneuver my truck into the lot behind the restaurant and park near the back door. We climb out and I steer her toward the back entrance.

  “Funny enough,” I say, unlocking the door. “I don’t much care for gyms—I can’t deal with the fitness crowd. I prefer a nice long run down a dirt road. Alone with nature and my thoughts.” The alarm buzzes and I punch in the security code.

  “What do you do when it’s cold outside?” she asks.

  The interior lights flip on and I nod toward the main area of the kitchen. “Ah, well, I work out in my home gym.”

  “My building has a fitness center and spa. It’s really nice. My house in the Hamptons has a home gym—it’s small but when I can’t make it to yoga or Soul Cycle, I’m grateful for my treadmill.”

  My brows lift. “You have a home in Los Angeles and in the Hamptons?”

  Celebrity publicity pays well. Good for her. We push through the kitchen doors to the main dining room and I guide Haven toward the bar.

  “East Harbour, my summer home. My solitude.” she answers and takes a seat. “Have you been?”

  I pull the bottle of tequila reposado and the manzanilla sherry from the shelf. Then I grab a glass and the pear liqueur from cabinet below. “The closest I’ve been to the Hamptons is New York City. Food and wine conference a few years ago.” I pour the ingredients into a mixing glass then stir them together. “Earlier, you mentioned how quiet it is here in Smyrna Hills. Isn’t it just as quiet in East Harbour? Otherwise you wouldn’t have picked it for your solitude.”

  She tilts her head, thinking about the question. “I suppose you got me there.”

  I add a lemon twist before sliding the drink in front of her. She lifts the glass to her lips and her eyes close as she swallows. “Oh my god, Tyler,” she moans.

  Fuck, that’s hot.

  And that’s how I imagine her saying my name when I fuck her into an epic orgasm. I scratch the thought from my mind and pull a beer from the cooler.

  “So, I did the recipe justice?”

  “Yes. Absolutely perfect.”

  “Good.” I pop off the cap to my beer and take a long pull from the bottle. “Bring your drink, I want to show you something.”

  She slides off the barstool and follows me onto the patio. The motion lights I had installed light our way as we climb up the wooden stair case.

  “You have a second story?”

  I nod. “I haven’t done an
ything with it, yet.” As I reach the top, I turn around and offer my hand to Haven. “Watch your step.”

  “Wow,” she breathes. “You can see for miles.” The warm night wind whips her hair across her face.

  I flick on the strand of lights I’d put up for Christmas. Since it’s June, I should probably take them down. Lightning flashes between clouds in the distance.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty great,” I admit. “I want this to be a rooftop bar. Picture a long fireplace here with some cozy outdoor seating. A bar over here, with seating for twenty. Sprinkle in a few four tops and this might be the new hot spot in town.”

  “You certainly have the vision,” she says, before taking another drink. “I can totally picture it.”

  The moonlight passes over her face and she licks her lips. My mind begins to raise fantasies again.

  What would her skin feel like against mine? I had a small preview when my hands landed on her back earlier, but that wasn’t nearly enough—simply a tease.

  “Yeah, now all I have to do is get a contractor out here and start the process.”

  She turns to face me. “When it’s all finished, I’ll be your first customer. You can make me another one of these.”

  I smile. “It’d be my pleasure. You’d come back here again?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

  My eyes bend to meet hers. “You just don’t seem to like it here all that much.”

  Her shoulders sag as she blows out a deep breath. “I do like it here, but being back in Mayfield comes with a lot of unpleasant memories. In L.A. I’m just another blonde lost in a sea of millions.”

  “So, the bad outweighs the good, huh?” I ask, before taking another swig of my beer.

  “Yeah, the bad is like this dark cloud always hanging around. You probably think I need therapy or to just let it go.”

  I understand that feeling. I had the same emotions when I went back to Clinton Park. But that place wasn’t ever really home. Smyrna Hills has always been home, and I managed to carve out a life here.