Mine To Have (Southern Wedding 1)

She points at me, and I shake my head but say the words anyway. "We’re gonna bop. We’re gonna bowl." She laughs again, and just because, she laughs. "We’re gonna score tonight." She turns and takes her place. "God, I hate that movie."

"You fucking lie," she throws over her shoulder, and she looks so fucking beautiful she takes my fucking breath away. She starts to count out loud. "One." She takes a step. "Two." She takes another step and then another. I can hear her counting when she releases the ball, and all I can watch is the way her ass fills out that fucking dress. She knocks down four pins and then turns around. "That was a warm-up." She comes back and takes another sip of beer. If it was four years ago, I would run my hand up the back of her leg, and she would bend down and kiss me. She would hold my face in her hands, and her whole face would light up with a smile while she leaned down and kissed me. And I would love every fucking second of it. "Okay, get ready for the spare," she says, holding the ball beside her, and I have to laugh at what my wedding night is turning out to be. She starts counting the steps, and the ball ends up hitting one more pin. "Shit," she swears, turning and walking toward me, sitting next to me and grabbing her hot dog. "You’re up." I get up, walking over to the balls to take my turn.

"Ready to get smoked?" I say the same words I said all those years ago. This time without slipping my tongue into her mouth. Which is totally a different experience, especially since I can almost taste the kiss again.

She holds up her hand. "Blah, blah, blah." She smirks at me, taking a fry and dipping it in ketchup. "Let’s see what you got." I grab the ball and hold it up in front of me, looking at the pins, and I shoot it down the middle and knock most of the pins down. "Bullshit." I look over my shoulder at her, and she flips me the bird. "I think you lied about bowling."

I stand here in the middle of the alley and put my hands on my hips. "I don’t lie." She folds her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows. "Fine, I lied once." I hold up my hand, thinking back to when we started dating, and she decided to cook me a homemade meal. She worked on it for hours, and I mean hours, and the thing was so bad. It was overcooked, burned, half soggy, and tasted like garbage. I don’t even know what it was supposed to be, But I ate it and said it was good because that is what you did when the woman you loved just slaved over a hot stove. The only one who blew it for me was Frankie. When he tasted a bite of it, he ran straight to the kitchen sink and threw up. "And that doesn’t count because you forgave me."

"I had no choice but to forgive you," she huffs at me, her voice going louder. "You ate garbage."

"It wasn’t that bad," I say, and she tilts her head to the side. "Fine, it was the worst meal of my life."

"Thank you," she says, dipping her fry in ketchup and tossing it in her mouth. "For finally admitting it to me."

I sit back down next to her. "So tell me, Harlow." I take a french fry and dip it. "What have you been doing for the last four years?"

"Well"—she puts down her hot dog—"I’ve been traveling the world." She starts to laugh, and I know she’s joking. "Not really much. Went back home and opened a practice. Worked every single day at all hours of the day. Busted my ass to be the best in the area."

"Which you succeeded in, no doubt." I get up and walk over to the balls. "I say this to anyone who asks, you were always the best." And I’m not lying either. Even when we were working together, she was better than me.

"My practice started with one little room in Quinn’s barn," she shares. "And then it just got to be a bit too busy. Since then, I have a practice that has expanded three times." She smiles, and she should because I know that she must have worked her ass off. "I finally decided that the one-woman show is just too much for me. I’ve hired a new guy who just graduated a couple of weeks ago. He interned with me, so he knows how I work, and he’s actually really good. Which is why I could be here this weekend."

"You don’t get time off?" I ask her, wanting to know it all.