Southern Seducer (North Carolina Highlands 1)

The mom version of being rescued by a square-jawed prince on a big white horse—that just happened.

To me.

Princess Bride. Pride & Prejudice. The parenthood editions.

The veggie plate is amazing, but I have to admit, I don’t savor it like I should. How can I when I’m so distracted watching Beau hang with Maisie outside the picture window to my left? They’re on the edge of the enormous lawn that stretches out in front of the barn. He’s taken her out of the stroller and is doing what I call The Endless Exhausting Bounce: baby slung in his arm, his bicep dwarfing her sweet little head, patiently bouncing her up and down.

I don’t hear her crying.

Between his enormous build and filthy mouth, it’s sometimes easy to forget Beau has a soft touch. Especially with kids.

Makes sense, considering he’s the oldest of five. He’s told me many times how he remembers Rhett as a baby. How much he tried to help out his mom, who was understandably overwhelmed. I can’t imagine doing this baby thing five times.

He makes faces at Maisie, holding her up to the sky as he gives her a wiggle.

I eat and I breathe and despite my best intentions I feel desire for him take root inside my being, deep and firm.

There’s a good bit of sorrow there, too. Because Beau would be a really great dad, but he’ll never allow himself the opportunity. He’s tapped out. Done hoping.

How does he manage to stay so positive? So outwardly engaged, when inside he’s hardened his heart?

But I already know the answer. He does it for his family. For me, and for Maisie.

It just makes me want him more. So does the fact that parenthood is so much easier when someone else is around.

I decided to have Maisie on my own because the timing felt right. I’d wanted a baby for a while, but my search for Mr. Forever wasn’t panning out. I did it without a partner not because I gave up on love—not out of cynicism or hurt—but because that was how the cookie crumbled.

Of course, I’ve worried about Maisie growing up without a father. But she’s got a wonderful village of family and friends who love her and support me.

But watching Beau with my baby, I can’t help but think how nice it’d be if he were part of our family. I’d go outside and loop my arm through his and together we’d walk back to my “cottage.” We’d put the baby to bed. Open a bottle of…well, maybe fancy sparkling water or something. Have great sex and/or veg on the couch with some low-quality yet oddly addictive Netflix show.

Ugh, as if my heart didn’t ache enough.

“I didn’t know a side effect of probable CTE is the ability to read minds,” I say a few minutes later as I head out onto the lawn.

Good joke? Bad?

He laughs.

Good. It feels so good to hear that sound.

It’s warmer than the other night, but still chilly. Crossing my arms, I stand beside Beau.

“Telepathy is one of the many joys of traumatic brain injury. That, and the ability to do magic.” He glances at the sky. “My owl is around here somewhere.”

The sun’s ducked behind a nearby tree, casting everything in a warm, light shadow that makes Beau’s eyes look translucent. Sweet and warm.

“Baby looks good on you.” I nod at Maisie, asleep in the crook of his arm.

“Everything looks good on me. How was your meal?”

“Food was great.” I nod again at my daughter. “Company kinda sucked. Thanks for the rescue.”

He turns his head to look down at the baby, exposing the sinews of his neck. The handsome lines of his profile. Nose. Jaw. Lips.

My skin feels a few sizes too small.

“Samuel told me y’all came down for dinner, and I had a feeling you could use an extra hand.”

Oh, God, the dirty pun. It’s right there. Do I call it out? Usually I’d call it out.

But that was before, and this is after.

I hate not knowing how to behave around him. It’s like my favorite pair of jeans don’t fit right anymore. A dilemma I’m all too familiar with.

“Turns out going to a nice restaurant with your four-month-old is a terrible idea. Everyone was staring at me, Beau. It was the worst feeling.”

“Who cares what they think?”

“But they were complaining about how much they’d paid to stay at the farm, Beau. I don’t want to sabotage the good thing you’ve got going on here. I know how hard you’ve worked, and how much—”

“Please. Don’t let some of our more entitled guests judge you for doing your best.”

“But she was screaming—”

“And you were just trying to eat a meal. It didn’t go according to plan today. But that doesn’t mean you won’t nail it tomorrow like the rock-star mom you are. Okay?”