Southern Desire (Southern Heart 2)

“How was your week?” I ask. How lame is that? I’m sure this guy is used to women throwing themselves at him, and here’s me asking about his week.

“Productive. Like yours, my boss is amazing.” He winks.

That makes me giggle. Yes, giggle! I’m twenty-five years old and I’m giggling in a bar with this piece of southern desire sitting next to me.

“Sorry, Whit, this place is crazy tonight. I hate that you have to sit alone,” Olivia says as she mixes a drink.

“Uh, hello to you too, Olivia. She’s not alone. We are having a very adult conversation,” Aaron tells her.

“Right, you keep telling yourself that, big guy.” She reaches over and pats his arm. This causes him to chuckle.

“Tell her, Whitney.” He turns those brown eyes on me.

“Very engaging,” I say with a grin. I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to this guy.

Olivia looks at me and she must find what she’s looking for. Her shoulders relax and she moves her gaze toward Aaron. “Who you here with?”

“Just me. My best friend went and married my sister and got all domesticated and whatnot.”

Olivia and I both laugh. You can tell he’s just messing around. “Can you keep her company? I thought I would be able to,” she tells him.

“No, Aaron, that’s not necessary. I’m just going to enjoy my beer and head home.”

“You just got here,” he says.

I try to ignore the thrill that runs through me that he knows how long I’ve been here. I’ve become that girl.

“It’s fine, really. It’s been a long week.”

Aaron leans in close, his lips next to my ear. “Humor me, yeah?”

I swallow hard then nod. How in the hell am I supposed to talk, let alone come up with a good argument when he’s that close to me?

“Good. Olivia, another round.” He holds his empty cup in the air. “Another for my friend here too,” he says, motioning his head toward me.

“I’m still half full,” I argue.

“Well, you better catch up then.”

I pick up my glass and take a long drink. Something tells me I’m going to need that ride home.

I watch as her lips part and she takes a big drink. My sister’s new employee is gorgeous, but something tells me that she has no idea. I’m usually a pretty good judge of character, and I can tell that she’s guarded. McKinley is so excited to have her at the studio. She’s raved all week about how good she is and how much of a stress reliever it is to have her here.

Maybe I can spend some time talking with her and find out what it is she’s hiding. I hope she’s not running from something. My sister is happy and stress free, enjoying her kids and husband. I want things to stay that way.

“So y’all are cousins, right?” I ask her.

“Yeah. Our moms are—were—sisters.”

That there, the look in her eyes. “Were?” I ask, even though I know I probably shouldn’t.

“My mom passed a year ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, but she’s still her sister.”

“What?”

“You said ‘were’ sisters. They are still sisters. That will never change.” I take a drink to give her time to think about what I’ve just said.

“Yeah,” she finally agrees, her voice low. I can hear the pain.

“So where are you from?”

“Indianapolis.”

“Time for a change?” I watch as she drains her beer and places the glass on the bar.

“Yeah, I guess so. Thought it would be good to be close to family.” She keeps her eyes on the empty glass.

I catch Mike’s attention and point to her glass. He nods and makes quick work of placing a new one in front of her. It’s not until he grabs the empty that she looks up, tears in her eyes. I can’t handle tears. I place my hand on her back and rub gently. Leaning close so I know she can hear me, I say, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.” I feel like an ass for upsetting her.

“This is all me,” she says, her eyes glassy from her tears. “I miss her.”

It’s with those words that a lone tear slips down her cheek. Reaching over, I catch it with my thumb. Thomas Rhett’s “Vacation” comes blaring through the speakers and I stand. “Let’s do this,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her with me.

“What are we doing exactly?” she asks as she stumbles.

Reaching out, I place my hands on her hips to steady her. “Dancing, of course.” I wink and guide her to the dance floor, my hands still on her hips. I swing her around and link my fingers with hers. I start moving our arms all crazy and I can see the start of a smile tilt her lips. Releasing one hand, I lift the other in the air and twirl her around. This causes a laugh to escape her lips.

“Aaron!”

“I’m just getting started.” I wink at her. Taking hold of both hands again, I swing them back and forth all crazy like. She looks around to see if people are watching us, and they’re not. Most of them are being silly like we are. This is a good song and life is too short to be serious all the time. Not to mention that I got rid of the tears. I caused them . . . kind of. I also made them disappear.

I pull her in close and dip her back over one arm. Her face is lit up with laughter and she looks happy, so carefree. A vast change from just mere minutes ago. The song changes; it’s another fast one, so I keep her out on the floor, spinning, grinding, and laughing. Mostly laughing.

Whoever is feeding the jukebox must have known I needed the fast songs tonight. We dance for five or maybe even six songs straight before a slow one comes on. By that time, we are both sweating and ready for another beer.

“Drink,” she says, a huge smile shining up at me.

I nod, grab her hand, and lead her back to the bar. Olivia sees us coming and sets two drafts on the bar. “You two looked like you were convulsing out there.”

I place my hand over my heart. “What? I have killer moves, just ask Whitney.” I turn my gaze on Whitney, waiting for her to take my side.

“Killer,” she says, laughing.

“Come on now, that last twirl was on point.” I lift my glass and take a long sip to hide my grin.

“On crack maybe,” Mike says, joining the conversation.