Southern Attraction (Southern Heart 3)
His concern warms something inside of me. I’ve never had a guy worry about me—sad but true. My mind drifts to a conversation Whit and I had after she first moved here and spent some time with Aaron. “Guys are just different here, respectful. It’s like a whole new world.” At the time, I didn’t put much thought into it; I chalked it up to her being interested in Aaron and all the attention he had been giving her. I was wrong. If this is what she was talking about, no wonder she fell under his spell. Then again, I’ve seen the way he looks at her. He’s just as smitten.
Climbing out of bed, I grab some clothes and head to the shower. I have just a little over two hours before I have to be on the road, so I rush through a shower, toss my hair into a messy bun and throw on some travel clothes that consist of yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. I quickly pack my things, taking extra care to place Mike’s T-shirt in the outside compartment of my bag. I should leave it here for him, but he didn’t seem upset that I had it. Once I do a final check that I have everything, I gather it all and head downstairs. I leave my bag and purse by the front door and follow the voices into the kitchen.
“Hey, Jamie,” Whit says from her perch on Aaron’s lap. They’re eating.
“Morning,” I say with a smile.
“We didn’t wake you, did we?”
“No, it was time to get up and get moving.”
“Long night?” Aaron gives me a sly smile.
“Aaron.” Whit smacks his chest. He laughs, grabs her hand and pulls it to his lips for a kiss.
“Cinnamon rolls.” Whit motions toward the stove. “I know they’re your favorite.”
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“They’re not homemade or anything, just straight out of the can. I slaved over them, I tell you,” she laughs.
I grab a plate and add a warm, gooey cinnamon roll. “Milk?” I ask Whit.
“In the fridge. Glasses are left of the sink. Help yourself.”
I pour a large glass of milk, grab my cinnamon gooey goodness and take a seat at the table opposite of them. “This is so good,” I mumble after my first bite.
“So do I not get to see you again until the wedding?” Whit asks.
“I’m not sure, really. Work’s been slow, so I might be able to get away for the weekend again before then.”
“I hate you driving that way all by yourself.”
“Why don’t you let us get you a plane ticket? The flight’s a quick one,” Aaron suggests. A smile lights Whit’s face and his eyes soften when he sees it.
“I can’t let you do that. The drive isn’t that bad, just under six hours.”
“How about we see what your work schedule is like and we can figure it out then. Maybe we can even drive up and visit,” Aaron suggests.
Whit leans in and kisses him. I focus on eating my breakfast, letting them have their moment.
After I eat and help Whit clean up, she and I head back to the basement to discuss wedding plans. Time flies and all too soon it’s time to go.
Aaron loads my bags, gives me a quick hug and went to the porch to give us some “girl time,” as he calls it.
“I’m going to miss you,” Whit says, hugging me tight.
“You too. Keep me in the loop with the wedding planning.”
“You know I will. Drive safe, and text me when you make it home.”
“Love you, Whit.” I hug her tight one more time, then climb into the car. Pulling the GPS up on my phone, I hit the home icon, then send a quick text to Mike.
Me: Headed home. Thanks for a great weekend.
My finger hovers over the Send button for a second, bu
t I quickly hit it before I can second-guess myself. Immediately I get a reply.