Southern Pleasure (Southern Heart 1)

“Yay!” She claps her hands and hands me a bag. We spend the next hour going through each gift. She’s glowing with excitement—-excitement for me and my daughter. This girl is wrecking me.

“Now we get to pack it all upstairs.” She grins at me. “Oh, maybe we should take all the tags off the clothes and blankets. I’ll pick up some detergent tomorrow, and then we can wash it before we put it all away. We’ll know everything in her room is good to go.”

We.

She’s including herself into my world; into my daughter’s world. I quickly stand to keep myself under control.

“I have detergent,” I say, heading to the kitchen for a pair of scissors.

“You need special detergent for babies. They have sensitive skin. You don’t have to use it forever, but the first several months at least,” she explains.

“And you know all of this how?” I ask her. I need to keep her talking to keep my mind off what I really want to do to her.

“It’s a gift.” She smiles.

After another hour of removing tags, we have two piles. One pile of laundry and one pile of everything else. “I’ll grab a basket.” I climb to my feet and head upstairs to the laundry room.

I find Kinley in the kitchen. The counter is now covered with bottles, what I just recently learned was a bottle brush, plates, cups, forks, and spoons—all the baby stuff that goes in the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure where you wanted it, so I just left it here.” She points to the counter.

“That’s fine. I’ll figure it out,” I tell her.

“Okay, so I’m going to take the rest of it up to her room, since we can’t really do the laundry without detergent.”

I follow behind her like a lost puppy. The reality of the situation is I would follow her anywhere. It’s wrong on so many levels, and I could never admit it to anyone but myself. If McKinley Mills ever needs anything, I’m her guy.

Once we reach the baby’s room, she busies herself placing lotions and creams on the shelf below the changing table. There are a few packs of diapers and she stores them in the drawer below. She puts the handful of toys in a white basket with a liner the same color as the walls and places the lone teddy bear in the corner of the crib. I watch her as she works, letting her do her thing.

“There,” she says, folding the last bag and placing it inside the other one. “Now we have a better idea of what you need for her. This will make planning a lot easier.” She moves toward me.

As she shifts closer, I snake my arm around her waist and pull her into me. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her so fucking bad, but I know when I do, I won’t be able to stop. Instead, I mimic our earlier embrace at the airport and bury my face in her neck. I feel her arms wrap around my waist and it takes every ounce of willpower I have to not say, ‘Fuck it.’

Realizing I’m still holding her, I reluctantly back away. She looks up at me, those brown eyes are filled with question. I gently cup her cheek and run the pad of my thumb across her lips. “Thank you for everything, McKinley. I don’t know how I would have gotten this far without you.”

Bringing her hand to my cheek, she mimics my actions. “I wanted to. I’m so damn proud of you, Evan Chamberlin.” She stands on her tiptoes and places a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. Before she has a chance to pull away, I wrap my arms back around her and hold her close. Just hold her.

The ringing of one of our cell phones downstairs has her pulling away. “You’re going to be the best damn daddy to this little girl.” She squeezes my arm as she walks around me and heads down the steps.

I stand still, missing the heat of her body against mine. I want to chase after her and beg her to stay. I wait too long, battling with my emotions. I hear the soft click of the front door and the sound of her engine starting.

She’s gone.

I meant what I said, I don’t know how I would be this far, be this ready for my daughter to come into this world, without her help. I need her help. I can’t risk sleeping with her and fucking it all up. I would lose her and more than likely, my best friend in the process. My focus needs to be on my daughter, on making sure I have everything she will need for the day I bring her home—-just me and her. As bad as I want McKinley at this moment, I know I can’t have her.

I hope I didn’t ruin the friendship we’ve built.

I’m trying to edit last night’s session, but I keep getting distracted thinking about Evan. Misty has a doctor’s appointment today and I know Evan is nervous. He says she’s not very big and the doctor has been on her about eating more, that the baby could have a low birth weight. It doesn’t help matters that she’s still hanging out with that Tom character. I can see how much it’s hurting him, not because he loves her, but because he’s afraid for his daughter. He’s constantly stressing over where she is and what she’s doing. What the people she has chosen to surround herself with are doing.

My phone rings and Olivia’s name lights up my screen. “Hello.”

“Kinley, hey girl! What do you have going on tonight?” she asks.

“Nothing really. Why, what’s up?”

“Mike has a new band coming to the Tavern tonight. Come with me?”

A night out sounds perfect to me. I haven’t really been out since the night Evan told us he was going to have a little girl. “I’m in,” I tell her.

“Yes! Okay, do you want me to pick you up or do you just want to meet there?”