It's Our Time (Carolina Rebels 3)

“What is it, gorgeous?”

She flicks her gaze up to mine. “You don’t know how much I wanted you there to experience that first with me, Ian. Even after what happened, I still wanted you there.” She clears her throat. “So, I was going to say that I’d want to be able to experience pregnancy with the father. Do you want more kids one day?”

“Ask me after I get used to Savannah. Having kids never crossed my mind because I never had a reason to think about them yet. Is the food good?” It feels like we should talk about something else.

“So good,” she nods. After a few minutes of eating in silence, Sydney asks, “Have you told your mom about Savannah yet?”

“Ah, no. I guess I need to call her.”

“Why don’t you have a good relationship with her?”

I sigh and poke my fry into ketchup. “You want to talk about this now?”

“What else are we going to talk about? Tell me, Ian.”

“She’s greedy and money-hungry,” I start. “She essentially left my dad because her old high school boyfriend was richer than we were and she wanted a better lifestyle. It burned Dad bad because he did take care of her. She was a stay-at-home mom, didn’t work, and he gave us a good life, working his ass off to do it; it still wasn’t enough for her. We don’t see eye-to-eye still, so I keep my distance.”

“Oh, wow. That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, I was nine when she left, and even then, I knew why she was leaving. It’s stuck with me.” I shrug.

“You said you didn’t tell me you loved me because of stuff between your parents. What did you mean? Is it somehow because of that?” she asks.

“Ah, yeah.” I decide to focus on my food because for some reason, I find that I really don’t want to explain it. Can’t she connect the dots? Haven’t I given her enough?

“Aren’t you going to explain?” Sydney raises an eyebrow and waits, taking a sip of her nearly finished beer. The waitress stops by, so I’m given some more time while Sydney orders another and I order a water and also a shot for Sydney. I need to say it in a way that won’t piss her off or give her the wrong idea. “Ian,” she presses.

“Not that I necessarily want you to never work a day in your life, but if we were going to be together, I wanted to be in a position where if that’s what you wanted, then you could do it. I wanted it to be where if we didn’t live in the same state, traveling to see each other wouldn’t mean searching the couch for change to help put the money together to come see you.”

“You didn’t want money to ever be an issue,” she interrupts.

“Exactly.”

Her face softens. “Ian,” she whispers so quietly the only way I know she said it is because I’m looking at her.

“Whatever you’re feeling, stuff it in a box and kick it to the curb. Everything is sunshine and rainbows and unicorns shitting glitter.”

She snorts, clearly not expecting me to say that. “I don’t think that’s a sentence that should be coming out of your mouth.”

“It should if it makes you laugh.” And gets her mind off of what we just discussed. To make sure we don’t go back there, I stand, move my chair next to her, and sit back down, an arm on the back of her chair, my hand lightly gripping her neck to brush my thumb along the skin there.

She’s grinning now. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I chuckle.

The waitress returns with our drinks and takes our empty plates. Sydney ignores her. She reaches up and rubs my beard like it’s a lamp and she’s waiting for a genie to appear. Her forehead rests against mine. “I love your beard. I love the way it feels.” Her blush is clear. I grin because she isn’t talking about how it feels against her hand.

“Dirty girl,” I murmur, which makes her cheeks turn even redder. “Take your shot.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she lies as she pulls away from me to pick up the shot glass. “This seems like an awful lot to swallow in one go.”

I bust out laughing and nudge the glass to her mouth. “You’ll be fine.”

She knocks it back, making the cutest grossed out face, when we hear, “Yo, you’re Ian Rhett. I’m a big fan, man.” I notice Sydney’s face blanch before I turn to look at the guy. “Sydney?” he adds with surprise.

“Uh, hi, Tom.”

I glance between the two of them. They know each other?