Beauty Shot

By Zoe Dawson

Decon West arrives at Columbia University to start his freshman year. But New York City is like an alien planet to him and even though he’s a fish out of water, he takes it in stride. He expected to be homesick. He expected to find the city chaotic. What he hadn’t expected was that the girls would be so aggressive, throwing themselves at him. But, there’s only one woman he’s interested in tracking down and that’s Minnie Tattersall.

Minnie dodged the bullet and resisted the temptation of eighteen-year-old Deke West when she was visiting Suttontowne. Now she’s hard at work on the upcoming collection she and Verity Outlaw will be showing at Fashion Week. She also finds it hard work to get Deke off her mind, but easy to remember that he’s much too young for her. It isn’t until he shows up at the show, and accidentally lands on the runway modeling their clothes that things begin to heat up for them. It's clear to Minnie that Deke doesn’t much care that he’s taking the New York City fashion scene by storm. He's hell-bent on breaking down her barriers and having her. How will she resist?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zoe Dawson
• Release date: Mar 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9780990907541

Book preview

Acknowledgments

I'd like to thank beta readers Sue Stewart and Leisha O’Connor. Thank you, also, to Faith Freewoman for her excellent advice and editing skills.

Dedication

To being true to yourself…always.

Chapter One

Deke

Leaving home wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sure, I’d be going on a new journey. I’d be preparing for my future. I’d be learning and growing, making new friends. But that also meant I was leaving behind old friends. Supportive people, like my family. People I worked with and hung out with. People who’d made up my whole freaking life until now.

At times like this there is excitement. There is anticipation, but don’t let anyone tell you there isn’t also nostalgia, sentimentality and just plain sadness.

There is also some fear.

I was only eighteen, and I was normally a confident guy. I always knew what I wanted, when I wanted it, and had no problem going after it.

But I wasn’t just heading somewhere new. I was heading somewhere big. From tiny Suttontowne, Louisiana to New York City, where my accent would sound funny and my ways would seem old-fashioned.

And I would most likely be judged based on my looks. I wanted Columbia to be different. I wanted them to see me differently, look past my pretty-boy looks and see who I really was. But, as always, it was up to me.

I would teach New York City a thing or two. Yeah, shoot, I would. The anticipation wasn’t just about getting to know a new place and conquering it. Columbia University had given me a full ride to study computer science, and would prepare me for what I’d always wanted to do. Game design.

No, there was someone in New York I had a powerful interest in. Someone who had recently been in Suttontowne and knocked me ass over teakettle, stirred me beyond the word hunger and made me want to howl at the moon.

Which was quite fitting, because she had a witch’s name and the charisma to go with it. Minerva Tattersall or, as everyone now called her around here, Minnie.

When Verity was carrying Boone’s baby last year, scared and alone, Minnie had taken her under her wing. Verity had proven to be so talented, Minnie recently offered her a partnership and Verity accepted.

Thinking about Minnie made my dick harder than stone, my lungs seize, and my heart pound. I felt the connection the moment we met. I know she felt it, too. It was obvious, but she’d held me off, kept me at arm’s length. I wanted to know what kind of barrier stood between us. I aimed to find that out, come hell or high water.

Day was melting into night, and my going away party raged happily behind me. I stood on Braxton Outlaw’s deck staring out into the deepening gloom, thinking my thoughts. My momma often said I thought too much, and maybe she was right.

I had been too smart for my britches, leastwise that’s what my momma said. I didn’t quite fit into any of the crowds at school, and I was okay with that. I couldn’t buy into some of the juvenile shit going on around me, and I guess my momma was right, maybe I was too smart for my britches.

The high temperature and humidity of late summer in Louisiana prevailed, and the tail end of August was holding tight onto the heat.

It had rained earlier, leaving everything dripping and glistening. The clouds had cleared a path for a melted bronze sunset that cast the swamp in silhouette. The air was fresh, but the mysterious undercurrent of the bayou lingered as always. My eyes drifted from the still water to the dense wildness that lay around me.

I’d grown up at the edge of the Atchafalaya, and the swamp was an unforgiving place. Steamy and seductive and secretive. Death was commonplace here, a part of the cycle. Trees died, fell, decayed, became a part of the fertile ground, so more trees could grow from them. Mayflies were eaten by frogs, frogs by snakes, snakes by alligators. A death would find no sympathy here. It was a realm of predators.

New York City wasn’t much different. It had its own cycle, and wasn’t any less dangerous than the swamp, but it wasn’t a natural order. In New York City there were human predators.

What are you doing hiding out here? Booker said, coming up and standing next to me.

I’m not hiding, Book. Just…contemplating.

Aside from Aubree, you are one of the smartest people I know, Deke. You’ll do fine.

I nodded. I had no doubt that I would.

It’s natural to feel sad and even a bit uneasy about leaving what you consider home. I’ve only been in New Orleans with Aubree for about a week. She’s busy with classes, and I’m trying to find my writing rhythm in the bustle of a city when I’m used to the silence of the bayou.

I’ll find my footing once I get there, I have no doubts about that. You’re right about leaving home. I’m excited, but it’s hard, too. You’ll find your rhythm, too. Just a matter of time.

When he slapped me on the back, I noticed the wrapped gift in his hand. He followed my look and grinned. This is for you. I have always found a great deal of wisdom in it. I think you will, too.

He held out the flat offering and I grabbed it, grinning back. I ripped at the brightly-colored paper I was sure Aubree had picked out and wrapped for me. I looked back inside and saw her standing at the sliding glass door, a winsome smile on her face. I acknowledged her with a nod and a smile and she nodded back. Her eyes touched on Booker and my heart ached over the way she looked at him. So much in just a look. It was as beautiful as the bayou.

I hoped to make the same kind of connection with Minnie.

I looked down at the book and then up at Booker. What the hell? I snorted. This is a kid’s book.

"Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are isn’t just for kids. It’s chock full of wisdom about human nature and imagination. There are solid life lessons in there that you’re smart enough to figure out. Read it again from an adult perspective, and you’ll see what I mean."

I laughed and grabbed Booker around the neck. Leave it to him to force me to think. He was the most cerebral of the triplet Outlaw brothers, and more reasonable and laid back. Just as intense as Boone and Braxton, but tempered.

I was two years their junior, but I remembered them from high school, and remembered how they hadn’t once let this town get them down.

I took a page out of the Outlaws’ book. New York City wasn’t going to get the best of me. United in their unholy trinity, the Outlaw brothers had been as steadfast and true to their own natures as the bayou was true to its natural order.

Now the Outlaws were exonerated, and I was even prouder to be considered part of their extended family, all because I had been lucky enough to snag a landscaping job with their brother Boone.

Don’t think too hard, though… Booker glanced back at Aubree, and she gave him a sultry look, …life is too short not to…ah…get to the good stuff.

Got it. Boy, did I want to get to the good stuff.

He chuckled and left me, slipping his arm around Aubree, nuzzling her neck as he slid back the screen door and they walked back through the open sliding glass door.

I shoved back my shoulder-length hair, looking down at the book.

Leave it to Booker to give you something…what the hell? A kid’s book, Boone demanded, yanking it out of my hands.

You know Booker.

Yeah, I do. Listen, I wanted to tell you, because I don’t tell you enough, or at all. But, damn son, you were the best employee I’ve ever had. You’re amazing with a hammer, can do math in your head like Einstein, and made sure that everything you did was done to your own exacting standards. His voice got hushed, his eyes going serious. Plus you saved Verity’s life when you came by that day, and, man, you saved mine, because she is my life. Now I have a family…it’s humbling.

Aw, Boone. You’re the best. Don’t make me go all mushy about it.

He nodded. Okay. My brothers give me a hard time, but it’s important to say things you mean and that mean something.

Okay. Meaning accepted. I’m going to miss working for you. I’m even going to miss Savannah.

Boone laughed, then sobered. He pulled a plastic baggie from his back pocket. These are for you. You planted them for me in the back, near our bedroom window, because Verity loves them. That was all you. I appreciate it, and now you can take a piece of both the bayou and us with you to New York.

Dahlia seeds. You think I can grow them in my dorm room?

I know you can. You have the magic touch. Maybe you’ll give them to someone special, just like I have. He gazed at Verity, who was talking to River Pearl, looking radiant and happy. A chill ran down my spine thinking about how Verity might have died. I was very glad I’d been my usual conscientious self that day.

You take care, and Verity and I will be in touch when we get there in a couple of weeks for Fashion Week. It’ll be a reunion.

I’m looking forward to it already.

The sun dipped into the horizon, and the streaks of bronze deepened into thick, dark shadows. I would take all this with me when I went.

Hey, you’re not mooning about leaving, are you?

I turned to find Braxton leaning against the side of the house, one hand on his belt buckle, the other holding…a box.

He pushed off the clapboard and walked over. These are for you.

He tossed the box at me and I grabbed it. Condoms. I gave him a sidelong glance. Booker gave me a book, and Boone a bit of the bayou and you give me…condoms.

Yeah, head, heart, dick. Just make sure you think with the right head, son. He grinned like the devil he could be sometimes. They’re more essential than a book and memories of the bayou. You do know where babies come from, right? I could give you a book about that, but here’s a hint. They don’t come from the strawberry patch.

I snorted and nudged him.

And here’s another hint. Learning how to make them is damn good fun; just don’t plant any seeds. That’s where the condoms come into play.

I know where babies come from, Brax, I said.

But you ain’t never been with a woman.

How the hell did you know that?

I bet folks think you have, ‘cause of the way you look, but I know you haven’t. I can tell. You’re saving it up for someone special.

I stiffened and glared at him. He had hit the mark so hard I felt bruised.

I hated being treated like an object. It was degrading and insensitive, and, as far as I was concerned, beauty was skin deep. I knew I had looks, but that didn’t make me any better than anyone else. I’d even used my looks to get my way a few times, but I also saw the way girls looked at me, and how they were more interested in what was in my jeans than what was in my heart. Automatically assuming I was a dumb blond. "I don’t need a talk about the birds and