Southern Comfort (Southern 2)

I watch him, and the only thing I can do is nod. “Good. We leave tomorrow morning.” Leaning down, he pecks my lips. “Now let’s get these horses back.”

I don’t say anything because I’m scared shitless that my voice is going to crack or I’m going to sound like a giddy teenager. So instead, I just follow him back to the barn.

Chapter Twenty

Casey

“Are you ready?” I shout, grabbing my bag and walking out of my bedroom. “Flight leaves in an hour.”

“I’m coming!” she yells. I see her walking out of her room, and I’m again forced to see why the two of us could never be. She looks like she just walked off the runway. She wears white jeans with a pink top, and a matching white jacket with leopard heels. “I’m ready.” She smiles at me, and I see she has makeup on this time, and her hair is loose and curled. It’s crazy that she went from mucking a stall yesterday to this catwalk version.

Seeing her ride Lady M at full speed made her so fucking sexy. I was in awe by the way she handled Lady M when she thought she was going to do something. Now she blows me away again, and all I can do is watch her. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, darlin’.” I grab my bag. She just looks at me now, and it’s her turn to stand there with her mouth open. Gone are the worn Levi’s and in their place are dark blue jeans and a white V-neck shirt with a leather jacket. I pick up my bag and walk out of the house, and she just watches me. “What?” I try not to smirk.

“You really are all that and a bag of chips, Casey Barnes,” she says, walking to me and then turning to run back to the kitchen to grab her carry-on bag. She stops in front of me. “Now I’m ready.”

I open the door for her, and she steps out and then stops. “Is that yours?” She points at the black Range Rover parked in the driveway. It’s the top of the line with tinted windows.

“Yeah,” I mumble and lock the door behind me, grabbing her luggage and loading the trunk with our bags. She stands there and looks at me. “It’s just a truck,” I say, and she walks toward me as I stand next to the truck. “I only use it when I travel or when I have a special day.”

She smirks at me now. “Are you saying that I’m your special day?” She wraps her arms around my neck, and I want to say that every single day with her is special. But instead, I just shake my head and kiss her. I open the door, and she steps in, and I try to come up with the words to say that we aren’t exactly flying there commercial.

“I’m so excited,” she says from beside me. “Do you know where we are staying?”

“Yeah, I have the name in my bag.” I try to hold off as much as I can, and when I make my way over to the private airstrip, she looks around in confusion. When we pull up, and I park the truck, I look over at her. “I’ll get the bags.” I get out of the truck, and she meets me in the back. I walk past the gate and head over to the private plane that is waiting. A little red carpet at the end of the stairs.

“Um, Casey,” she says quietly from beside me. When I get to the plane, the flight attendant comes down the stairs as I start to walk up the stairs.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” the flight attendant says to me, smiling. “Welcome aboard. You can put your luggage right over there.” She points at the side of the plane. “We’ll have it loaded up right away.”

“Thank you,” I say and put down the bags. “Darlin’,” I say to Olivia, who now just glares at me. I wait for her to walk up the steps. She puts her bag on the table in front of her and then sits down, not saying a word to me. “What has got you all in a pickle?”

“Don’t you pickle me, Casey,” she hisses. “We are in a private plane.”

“I know,” I say, shrugging off my jacket and handing it to the flight attendant who is there waiting for it.

“Would you like anything to drink before takeoff, Mr. Barnes?” She smiles at me, and I look at Olivia.

“Darlin’?” I call her, and she turns on her charm and fake smile as she looks over at the flight attendant.

“I’ll have a water with lemon, please.” She nods her head and walks away.

“See,” I say, sitting down and pointing at her. “That smile right there. Fake.”

“See that,” she says, pointing at me. “Fake as fuck!” I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it and put my head back.