“What’s his name?” We step up and offer our IDs to the bouncer. He checks them with a flashlight and stamps our hands, waving us inside. Hollis guides me in front of him.
“Preston Dodge.”
I stop so abruptly, Hollis is barely able to stop himself from barreling into me. My head whips around. “Preston Dodge, as in the Dodge family who has a middle school named after them and a statue of a grandfather in downtown Mobile? The guy whose father is the attorney general of Alabama?”
He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
Oh my stars. The Dodge family is famous as far as local standards go.
Dazed, I allow him to lead me to the bar. “Want a beer or water? Or somethin’ else?”
“What are you gettin’?”
“Beer.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
He laughs. “Come on, Shortcake. It’s college. One beer won’t hurt.”
“Okay,” I hedge. “I guess I’ll have whatever you’re havin’.”
A moment later, Hollis hands me my first beer in a plastic cup. It’s cold, and I stare at the contents dubiously. It looks an awful lot like urine. The smell isn’t much better.
I follow him, careful not to bump into anyone and spill my beer. Once we get to an open barstool at the counter against a wall, he reaches to take my cup and waits for me to slide onto the seat. He sets my beer on the counter and points at it, a stern expression taking place of his usual easygoing one. “Don’t let this out of your sight for even a second.”
I nod. I’ve heard enough stories about that sort of thing. “I won’t.”
He glances around, flicking his eyes through the crowd until they stop. He grins and lifts his chin in greeting. I follow his line of sight and discover a guy weaving through the throngs of people and heading our way.
Wow. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that this is his roommate, the infamous Preston Dodge. I recall seeing a photograph of him and his family on some political commercial but never paid it much attention.
A tiny laugh bubbles up, threatening to break free, because he’s dressed exactly as Hollis described him. His Lacoste polo shirt is smooth and free of wrinkles, tucked into a pair of khaki pants, a leather belt cinching a narrow waist. On his feet are an expensive pair of leather flip-flops I recognize since Roy only wears the OluKai brand that’s normally shy of two hundred dollars.
Even in the dim lighting of the bar, his light blue eyes are clear and crisp in color, reminding me of the prettiest afternoon sky in the summer. His nose is straight, and with high cheekbones and an angular jawline, he could probably model if he wanted to. He’s gorgeous.
Hollis was right. Preston is exactly the kind of guy my parents would love. Heck, the fact that he’s the son of the Alabama State Attorney General would be enough to have them trying to arrange our marriage. However, most of the guys my parents choose for me tend to tip the scales as far as being pretentious as all get-out, so I’m interested to see where Preston falls on that scale.
“Barnes!” He exchanges an easy handshake-back-slap hug with my best friend before turning his attention to me.
“And how did this roughneck manage to get you to tag along tonight?” His eyes sparkle with humor. “He bribed you, didn’t he?”
Hollis shoves at Preston’s shoulder playfully. “I told you I was bringin’ Magnolia.”
Preston steps closer and extends a hand for me to shake. When I place my palm in his, he says, “Nice to meet you, Magnolia.” Instead of shaking my hand, he swivels his wrist and dips his head to place a light kiss on the back of it.
“That’s enough, Casanova.” Hollis laughs and tugs my hand from Preston’s.
Someone calls out Hollis’ name, and he waves before turning to me. “You okay for a moment? I didn’t realize our resident advisor’s lendin’ a hand at the bar tonight.”
Preston waves him off. “I’ll make sure nothin’ happens to her.”
Hollis holds my gaze, waiting for me to answer. I nod. “I’ll be fine.”
The crowd swallows him, and I pick up my untouched beer, anxious for something to do with my hands. I bring it to my lips to take a sip, and as soon as the liquid hits my taste buds, I turn my head to the side to try to casually spit it back into my cup.
Lord have mercy, that’s positively putrid.
Then I realize Preston just witnessed this. With an inward wince, I dart a cautious look at him.
He’s grinning like a fool. “I reckon you’re not a fan of beer, huh?”
I cover my mouth and laugh. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries.” He takes a sip of his own half-full cup of beer, amusement sparkling in his eyes as he watches me grimace at his action. After swallowing, he laughs. “I promise it’s an acquired taste.”
I twist my lips. “Well, let’s just say I won’t lose sleep over it if it doesn’t happen.”
He laughs again and slides his phone from his pocket. “Let me text Hollis to grab you a bottle of water while he’s over at the bar.” He types quickly and pockets it.
When his eyes rest on me again, the interest in them is palpable. He takes another sip of his beer, eyeing me over the rim, before asking, “Well, Miss Magnolia, I know your feelin’s on beer. What I’d really like to know is”—he tips his head to the side—“whether you’re datin’ anyone.”
I shake my head, unable to break eye contact. “No.”
His mouth spreads into a wide, satisfied grin. “Well, then. I reckon I know what my goal is now.”
I furrow my brow in a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “What’s that?”
He steps closer to where I sit on the barstool and settles his free hand on the counter. His eyes are intent, and determination is evident in his tone when he answers.
“To change your answer.”
Magnolia
AUBURN UNIVERSITY
FRESHMAN YEAR
POST-SPRING BREAK
March
I’d prefer not to admit the number of times I overheard other girls in my dorm talk about how everything changed when they met a guy—when they met the guy. I always inwardly scoffed at them.
Then Preston Dodge entered my life. He’s shown me time and again that he’s more than a gorgeous face. More than a son whose family has wealth and notoriety that hails from pre-Civil War days. His easy charm wooed me initially, but then we bonded over stories of being forced to attend etiquette classes and cotillion. Over families who stress the importance of appearances and conducting oneself in public.
He always does his best to make time for me. We have study dates and get together with Hollis and a few other guys and head to Azalea’s for beers—or, in my case, water—and play pool or darts. Preston and I are, dare I say, nearly perfect for one another.
Of course, my parents adore him and have accepted him into the fold like they’ve known him for years. I’d considered inviting him home with me for spring break, but he and his friends had already made plans to head to Cabo before we met.
I admit, I was a bit envious of Preston being able to relax and soak up the sun at a resort while I spent my break at home, pacifying my mother by letting her parade me around to her little gatherings and women’s tea. It was torturous. The only good part of it was when I had time with Hollis in the treehouse. Of course, he was working shifts at the country club for extra money, so I didn’t get as much time with him either.