Dirty South (A Blue Collar Bad Boy Romance) Page 14

  "We love each other, Dad," I add softly, but I'm not sure if my dad's in a state where he can hear me. Boone slowly removes his arms from around my father's neck, and he collapses forward, catching himself on my bed and turning into a sitting position as he gasps for air. Boone and I make eye contact, then turn to him, waiting for him to say something. He shouldn't have had near this amount of physical activity. He only just got permission from the doctor to walk upstairs.

  "Boone," my father breathlessly says. "You're fired."

  "Mason, let's discuss this," Boone replies.

  "There's nothing to discuss! I accept you into my business, give you a chance that no one else would, and this is how you thank me? Going after my daughter behind my back?"

  "I have proven my worth to you time after time," Boone says, his eyes flashing. "I dug Woodall & Sons out of the red, and you didn't even tell me that you're leaving the company to someone else." His voice is tight and caught in his throat as he struggles to maintain a cap on his emotions.

  "I don't need you! I never did! You're the bastard son of a druggie! I never should have even let you in the house!"

  Boone's nostrils flare and his hands form fists at his side. "Boone," I murmur. "Boone."

  He takes a deep breath and looks up at me. "I better leave now, before I do something that can't be taken back," he says. He crosses the room, grabbing the rest of his clothes. "I'll call you later," he whispers to me as he passes. I hurriedly grab a shirt and shorts from my bureau and turn my back to my father to quickly yank them on. When I turn back around, he's staring straight ahead, his lips pursed in a thin line.

  "Dad, we've wanted to tell you," I say, stepping hesitantly forward. He stands up slowly and faces me. "Are...are you feeling alright?

  "Get out of my house," he spits at me. "I see who you are now. Dancing with that dyke earlier and opening your legs for—"

  My arm reaches out and I slap him across the face. He looks shocked for a moment, then my head is whipping to the side before I understand what's happening. I reach my hand up to my cheek to feel a burning sensation and a bit of liquid on my lips. He just slapped me right back, but quite a bit harder.

  A gasping sob crosses my lips, and I turn and run for the doorway. "Oh, Callie," Mrs. Hunt murmurs, reaching for me, but I run past her and down the front steps.

  "Grace!" I hear my father shout, but I grab my keys from the bowl by the door and run out. I'm soaked to the bone by the time I reach the third step, but I don't care about the weather. I just need to get away.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I park at the deserted campsite and trudge resolutely through the pouring rain, my mind switching between anger and shock and blocking everything else out. I scarcely even feel the pelting raindrops on my skin as I squint through the darkness. All I can focus on is my overwhelming fury at my father.

  I've always wanted to give him a second chance, sure that there was more to him. That his bad decisions were a sign of fear and being stuck in the past, but not hate. Well, he showed his true colors tonight. In my thin sneakers, I trudge through a small stream that's appeared at the base of the rock formation, and clamber my way up, slipping a few times and scratching my knees. At the top, I sit on my rock and look down toward the Skidaway River below. It's raging, its banks swollen with water from the rain.

  At least I don't care what my father thinks of me anymore. I'll find an apartment by myself. Sure, it'll be tough to afford it on my salary, but maybe Lynn will want to room with me. I bet she got an earful from her parents after her public dance with Sheila tonight, so maybe she'll be similarly motivated.

  Do I even want to keep working at Upland Designs anyway? When they didn't know my last name, they stuck me with making copies and fetching coffee. And the truth is that I like graphic design, but I don't love it. It always seemed like a more stable form of pursuing something more artistic. Right next to a purely artistic field, but not quite as unsafe or unpredictable.

  A pattern starts to emerge in front of me as I stare at the wall of rain, and struggle to hold my seat in the buffeting wind. This is what I always do: suppress what I really want, and then act out in some crazy way toward what I really desire. Trying to be the perfect Southern debutante at the Historical Society party, but then sneaking off to smoke pot with Lynn. Dating Vernon while carrying on a secret affair with Boone. Pleasing my father for my entire life, and then running out into a hurricane.

  I jump about a foot in the air as a loud boom and white hot flash erupts from about fifty feet down the river, at the front of a tree line. With my mouth agape, I watch as a tree splits in two, smoke and flames emanating from its broken trunk before being doused by the rain. In another crack of lightning, I watch as half the tree falls backward into the forest, and the other falls forward. I peer toward the river, and see the huge trunk swiftly carried away by the swollen rapids.

  I look around at the sheets of rain and feel the slick rocks underneath me. What the hell am I thinking? I could get killed out here.

  Far more cautiously than I came in, I slowly turn around and inch my way back down the rocks. The spots where I cut my knees before are beginning to burn, joining my slightly aching jaw. About ten feet from the ground, I hear water flowing behind me. I turn to look, and can just see that the small stream that I waded through has become an angry-looking brown snake along the bottom of the rocks. I peer to the left and right. As far as I can see, the water hugs the edges of the rocky outcropping, leaving me no way to cross.

  I clamber back up, sure that I can't wade through it now without being swept away, and not wanting to stay under the trees after what I just saw of that lightning. I make it back up to my rock and sit just under it, pressing my back against it and planting my feet as much as I can on the smaller rocks around it.

  This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever done. I wrap my arms around myself as I begin to shiver. I didn't tell anyone where I was going, and I don't have my cell phone. I just pray that the water levels don't continue to rise and trap me right in the middle.

  * * *

  My teeth stopped chattering a while ago. I think my muscles are too exhausted even for that. I've never felt a cold so unrelenting before. Who knows how long I've been out here? One hour? Four? I've gotten up periodically to check the water flow at the bottom of the rocks, my limbs growing stiffer and my footing less sure every time. Maybe it will be dawn soon, and I'll be able to get help somehow.

  The low sound of thunder reaches my ears. There hasn't been any lightning for a while, but I guess it's coming back. I turn my head up slightly to watch the sky. No sign of any lightning. Maybe the storm is moving further away. I blink blearily. There's the sound again. It's too constant for thunder. An engine! I realize, and struggle to my feet.

  There, I can see headlights breaking through the trees in the distance. I wave my arms and shout, but whoever it is is too far away. Maybe it's park rangers, out surveying the damage. The lights stop moving, but stay on, and they're pointed in my direction. I gingerly move to the base of the rocks, just above the swollen stream that blocks my path.

  "Callie?" I hear someone call through the wind.

  "Boone!" I yell back. "Boone! I'm here!"

  "I'm coming! Hang on!" I see a smaller light, a flashlight, swing through the trees, and my heart lifts. How did he know where I was?

  He appears across the stream, about twenty feet away, and I squint as he shines the light in my eyes.

  "I can't cross!" I yell.

  "I'll be right back!" he yells, and I sink down onto the rock and huddle for a moment as I wait for him, watching the flashlight disappear, and then return. I watch as he ties a piece of thick rope around a tree, and then the other end around his waist. I stand up, and get as close to the water's edge as I can.

  Boone wades in, taking slow, deliberate steps to make sure of his footing. Halfway across, and the water reaches up to his chest, swirling around him and then continuing on. I want to leap toward him as he g
ets closer, but I wait until he's standing almost next to me, and taking me into his arms. I close my eyes against his chest, feeling the warmth of this body. He holds me so tightly I almost can't breathe.

  "Let's get you out of here," he says. "Wrap your arms around me and don't let go for nothing!"

  I do as he says, and he begins the slow walk back across the stream. The water reaches my waist, and then my breasts, and soon it's up to my neck. I feel his arms move more tightly around me and shift me toward his front, so that he's practically pushing my body across the water. Finally the water level moves down, and then we're stepping onto ankle-deep mud. One of my shoes is quickly sucked off my foot as Boone guides me back toward the tree and unties the rope. He points the flashlight at me, and before I can protest, he's scooping me up and carrying me off toward the truck.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I curl up in the passenger seat of Boone's truck as he gets in the driver's side and pulls a blanket from the back. I lean forward obediently as he wraps it around my back and then pulls it tightly around me and rubs my shoulders vigorously.

  "I know it was stupid of me," I croak. "I don't know what I was thinking."

  "Don't worry about it now," he says, pulling my seat belt down and strapping me in, then reaching for his cellphone in the console. He pulls it to his ear as he cranks up the heat in the car. "I've got her. I'll take her back to my place." He listens for a moment, and then hangs up.

  "Who was that?" I murmur, as he turns the truck around and heads for the park entrance.

  "Your father," he replies, driving slowly and squinting through the darkness.

  "My father?" I reply in shock.

  "He's the one who called me after you didn't come home. He was worried because of the storm, wanted to make sure you had gotten to me safely. Course, you weren't with me, but I figured I knew where you might be."

  "He hit me," I murmur, placing one hand on my cheek. "I did hit him first..."

  "He told me," Boone replies grimly. "If I could've hit him back through the phone line, I would have."

  We're quiet for the rest of the drive back. The only sound is the rain pelting down on the truck's exterior and the car's heater. Boone drives slowly because it's tough to see more than fifteen feet in front of us. We only pass a couple other cars on the road, and they look like emergency vehicles.

  I almost want to cry when I realize we're on Boone's street. He pulls around the back, and then hustles around to my side of the car to shepherd me inside. He doesn't let go of me for a second until we're inside his master bathroom and he's turning on the shower.

  "Arms up," he instructs me, and pulls off my shirt as I push my one mud-covered sneaker off my foot. I push down my shorts as he holds open the glass shower door for me. I sit immediately on the tiled seat on the end, too tired to stand anymore. After a moment, Boone steps in and reaches down for me. I step up into his embrace, and he holds me against his chest. I shut my eyes as the hot water streams over us.

  "I'm sorry you lost your job," I murmur.

  "We'll see," Boone says, and I can sense a bit of a smirk in his voice. "Mason hasn't really had to run the company for a while, and I'm not so sure he's going to like it."

  "I just realized... I can sleep over tonight," I say with a smile, looking up at him.

  "That's true," he says with a grin. I reach up and push the hair off of his forehead, and his eyes widen. "Look at your palms," he says, stepping back and spreading my fingers. I look down and see that they're all scratched up, and the water is running red as it streams off of them.

  "It must have happened when I was climbing on the rocks," I realize. "It doesn't hurt," I murmur.

  "Well, there's dirt in them," Boone says, stepping back and looking over my body.

  "And your legs are all scratched up, too. Here, sit," he instructs me, placing me back on the seat. He takes a white washcloth from the ring under the showerhead and moistens it under the water. I reach forward to run my fingers across his ass with a giggle. "Would you quit it?" he says, shaking his head at me. "You're bleeding. Give me your right hand."

  I place it in his right palm, and he methodically, gently, blots at my scratches with the washcloth, getting out every little pebble and piece of dirt. When he's done with both hands, he sinks to his knees and goes to work on my legs. I watch his face, so calm and focused, as he works. I feel like he's honoring me with every stroke, I feel—

  "I love you," I suddenly say.

  "Love you, too," he says offhandedly, not looking up from the scratch on my knee he's working on. I stare at him for a moment, and then he pauses and looks up, a smile spreading across his face. "Huh. It felt so natural, I guess I didn't realize we never said it before. I do, though. Love you."

  "Good," I reply with a giddy smile, and he goes back to washing my knee.

  He clears his throat. "You could stay here, you know. If you don't want to go back home."

  "Really? Like for a few days?"

  "Or longer," he says with a shrug, though I sense that he's waiting for my answer.

  "I'll stay here, then."

  "Good."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  "Am I crazy? I'm feeling crazy," I say, from my place lying face down on Boone's couch.

  "You're not crazy! People change careers all the time," he assures me, sitting down with a laugh in an armchair.

  "Now we're both out of work, though," I say, lifting my head.

  "Callie, I think we'll be okay," his replies, his eyes dancing.

  "I could get a part-time—"

  "Callie. I could live off my savings for the rest of my life if I needed to. We both could," he interrupts me. "So find your passion. Take your time."

  "Really?" I ask, my eyes widening.

  "Really. Not that I'm going to live off my savings," he clarifies. "I've already gotten a couple calls from companies that—" He glances toward the door as the doorbell rings. "You invite Lynn over?" he asks as he walks to answer it.

  "No, though maybe later this week we—" I stop as he walks back in, his face serious.

  "It's your father. You want me to tell him to leave?"

  I sit up and begin chewing on my thumbnail. "No. No, I guess I have to face him sometime." It's been four days since the gala, and we haven't spoken at all. Boone nods, and I hear the door open a second later. I stand up and turn around. My father enters, and I'm surprised again by how thin he looks.

  "Grace," he says with a nod. "Thank you for seeing me," he says formally. I gesture to an armchair, and Boone moves to the couch and sits next to me. My father looks between us, and then clears his throat. "First, I want to apologize. Things got a bit out of hand the other night." I feel Boone shift next to me, and my father backtracks. "More than a bit. I said some unforgivable things, and of course I never should have raised my hand to you. I'm sorry."

  "Well, I also let my anger get the better of me," I admit. "So I'm sorry, too."

  "I also wanted to apologize to you, Boone. Honestly, things haven't been going very smoothly at the office. To be honest with you, I've got a bit of a coup on my hands."

  "A coup?" Boone repeats, sounding amused.

  "Seems I underestimated my employees' loyalty to you. They are, well, refusing to work unless you are reinstated."

  "Mason, I—" Boone begins, but I jump in.

  "We have terms," I say boldly.

  "Terms?" my father repeats, taken aback, and glancing toward Boone. I didn't exactly check this out with Boone before jumping in, but it's too late now.

  "Boone will only come back if you agree to name him the next CEO," I state.

  "Boone..." my father sighs.

  "Sorry, Mason," Boone says with a shrug. "The lady's got terms," he says, his mouth twitching with a smile.

  "How long can Woodall & Sons go without its employees doing any work? And Boone has proven himself time and time again," I say plainly. "He's the company's future, Dad. You're going to have to accept that. And you couldn't be leaving
it in better hands," I add softly. "You're always saying how important character is to you. Boone went out into a hurricane to find me, so what does that say about his character?"

  My father looks down at the coffee table, his eyes going blank for a moment. The room is very quiet. The silence stretches on and I wonder if I should say something more, but then Boone's hand comes to rest on the small of my back, warmth emanating from his palm, and I feel confident that I've said all that needs to be said.

  Finally, my father nods. "Alright." He nods again. "Boone, you've earned it. I'll say that much. Grace, you drive a—"

  "One more term," I pipe up. "My name is Callie. You and Mom have been divorced longer than you were married, and I really want you to call me by my first name now."

  My father sighs. "Fine. Though I can't promise I won't slip up now and then."

  "Maybe you should offer her a position in the company, too, Mason," Boone says with a smile. "She's quite a negotiator."

  My dad lips actually flicker with a smile, though he doesn't give in to it. "So you two are...?" he asks.

  "Together," Boone says.

  "Well, you are welcome to come home whenever you want, Grace—Callie," my dad offers.

  "Actually, Dad, I think I'm going to stay here," I reply, glancing at Boone.

  "Ah," my dad says, looking surprised. "So it's... serious."

  "Very serious," Boone confirms with a grin.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Six months later…

  "So how'd you hear about this place again?" I ask, glancing out the window as we pass an old farmhouse about twenty minutes outside of Savannah.

  "Buddy of mine on the site," Boone says.

  "Well, I could use some more wood. I already ran out of the shiplap from the place on 4th," I say. For the past few months, I've been designing furniture from old wood that Boone pulls from construction sites, and I've been shocked by how many people are interested in my pieces. I've found building something with my hands, with Boone's instruction at first, to be much more satisfying than building graphics on a computer screen.