Southern Comfort (Southern 2)

“Depends, what is it?” She takes off the oven mitt and looks at me.

“Just a little bit of sandwiches and some fruit,” I say. “Some wine maybe.”

She looks over at me. “Some wine?” Her eyes almost twinkle as she taps her finger on the counter. “You want to take Olivia on a picnic?” She folds her arms over her chest.

I’m about to answer her when I hear my father coming into the room. “What is this meeting about?” my father asks. Going over to my mother, he kisses her neck, then grabs the cup of coffee that she made for him in the cup he always uses.

“He wants to take Olivia on a picnic.” I watch my father’s eyes. He looks up at me, then he puts his cup down and folds his arms over his chest. It is almost the same thing he did when Jacob came over to ask out Kallie all those years ago.

“Casey Barnes,” he says, almost hissing.

“It’s not what you think,” I say, but even the words don’t sound convincing to me. “She’s just never been on a picnic.”

“Okay.” He glares at me.

“Can you just relax?” I say, putting up my hands. “I have to check the property, and I was going to take her out on the horse at the same time.”

“Have a picnic with her by the creek.” My mother tries not to smile. “I’ll pack a couple of things in a cooler.” She walks away, leaving me with my father.

“You know she’s here temporarily,” my father says, and I don’t need him to remind me. It’s what I keep repeating to myself every single time my head goes there. “Unless …”

“Unless nothing, Dad.” I shake my head. “She’s leaving, and besides, I don’t have anything I can give her.”

“You have everything,” he says softly. “You just have to take the chance.”

I don’t answer him because my mother comes back in the room carrying a bag. “I’ll be back at noon to get it,” I say, and she just nods her head.

“Do you want anything to eat?” she asks, and I just shake my head. “Okay, let me know if you are going to be here earlier.”

Walking out of the house, I head to the barn, making sure that the horses will be ready at noon. When I walk back into my house, I hear the shower from her room going. I walk over and start the coffee. I grab a pack of bacon to make, adding some sausage in the pan with it.

“Oh my God.” I hear mumbled from behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, I want to laugh at her.

She is wearing a baggy shirt, and her hair is on top of her head in a towel. “Good morning, sunshine,” I say. She just shakes her head, mumbling something while she gets on one of the stools, putting her head down on the counter. “Do you want coffee?” She grumbles, and I laugh at her. “Want a shot of tequila?” I get the stuff out to make a bloody Mary while she mumbles and then looks up.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” she says. I place the bloody Mary down in front of her.

“Drink that,” I say. She takes a sip and grimaces.

“What’s in there?” she asks and coughs.

“Trust me. You finish that, and you’ll feel somehow normal,” I say. When she just looks at me, I realize I was wrong. Out of every time before this, right here, she is the most beautiful she’s ever been. “If you finish that, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” she asks, eyes opening. “Is this something I’m going to like?”

“I think so,” I say, putting the plate of bacon in front of her. She mumbles and pushes the plate away.

“Finish that,” I say. “And then go rest, and I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.”

She finishes the drink and then walks over to the couch. Only then do I see she’s wearing booty shorts, and it doesn’t take long for my cock to get hard. Looking down, I head into my office and turn on the computer, trying to concentrate on work. Nothing but thoughts of her go through my head, and at eleven thirty, my mother texts me that the bag is at the barn. I push away from my desk and walk to the living room, finding the couch empty. When I look down the hall, I see that she is walking my way, and she looks semi-normal again in blue jeans, a white shirt, and her sneakers.

“You ready?” I ask. She nods at me and smiles.

“Tell me my surprise,” she says, and I shake my head.

“Better if I show you,” I say, holding out my hand. She intertwines our fingers, and I don’t let her hand go when we walk out of the house and head across the grass toward the barn. My horse is waiting outside, and he is already saddled up.