Southern Storm (Southern 3)

I look at him shocked and speechless. “That is really kind of you.” I look over at the bar. “But I can pay for it.”

He nods. “Now that you’re here, you can show me inside.”

“Sure.” I turn, making my way into the bar. After opening the door, I hear Tony whistle from beside me as he takes in the scene. The destruction still shocks me. “I tried to clean up some of it.” I walk in and pick up a chair. “But”—I shrug—“I didn’t get far.”

“Wow.” He looks around, taking it in. “They didn’t miss anything.”

“Nope.” I shake my head while he writes things on his clipboard. I pick up a couple of chairs, then walk over to the bar and decide to sweep up all the bottles.

Thirty minutes later, Tony comes over while I finish sweeping the broken glass into a box. “I’m going to head out,” he says. “We’ll be here tomorrow bright and early.”

“Okay.” I smile at him. “I’ll see what I can get done tonight, and I’ll also be here tomorrow.”

“See you then.” He turns and walks out of the door. I squat down to clean up the remainder of the mess. I grab a notepad to take inventory of the glasses that are left. I’m about to put the pad down when the door swings open, and I look up, seeing Beau coming in with two bags in his hands. I try not to look surprised, but I’m sure that I fail miserably.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, setting the pad down on the bar top.

“I went by your house, and you weren’t there,” he says, walking in. “I figured you came back here, so I got you dinner.” He lifts his arms.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, wondering what the fuck happened with Melody. Not that I care because he’s free to do what he wants. But still.

“I know I didn’t have to,” he says, looking around for a place to put the food. He walks over and puts the bags down on the bar. Walking around the bar, he grabs a rag, wetting it and then wiping the bar down. He’s always helped me close on the weekends and any other time he’s in here. Most nights, he even helps bus the tables. “I wanted to.” He tosses the rag into the sink and then turns to look at me.

“I got you your favorite,” he says, taking a Styrofoam container out of the bag. “Meatloaf.” He puts it on the counter. “Mashed potatoes.” He takes out another one. “Fries.” I look at him. “And slaw.”

“You are too good to me.” I shake my head, walking around the counter and picking up two stools for us to sit on. “Also thank you.” I slide onto one stool, and he slides onto the stool next to me.

“Well, I promised you dinner.” I look over at him. “And you ran out of the house like your tail was on fire.”

I roll my eyes and try to pretend it didn’t bother me. “I did not. Your girlfriend showed up. I wasn’t going to stay around and be the third wheel.”

Opening the container and grabbing a plastic fork, he takes a bite. “She is not my girlfriend,” he says, grabbing his own fork. “She’s just someone I went on a date with.”

My stomach almost turns over, the meatloaf in my mouth suddenly tasting sour. “Whatever,” I say, nudging my shoulder against him. “You don’t have explain your dating situation to me.”

“There is nothing to explain.” He chews. “We went out on one date.”

“Oh, come on,” I joke with him. “You went on five dates with her in three weeks.”

He looks over at me. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” His eyes light up just a touch, and a smile forms across his lips, but before I can say anything, the door opens, and we both look over our shoulder.

“Sorry,” Chase says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just thought you might be hungry,” he says, holding up a bag in his hand. I suddenly feel like the biggest bitch in the world for leading him on. I shouldn’t have done it.

“Oh, that’s so nice of you.” I slip off my stool, going over to him. He is cute in a rugged type of way, and I tried really freaking hard to like him, but I just couldn’t even get to that point with him. “Do you want to …?” I point back at the bar where Beau now sits facing us as he glares.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I should go. I have an early day tomorrow,” he says, handing me the bag.

“You should take this.” I motion to the bag. “There is already too much food here.”

He grabs the bag back from my hand and nods at me. “Have a nice night, Savannah.” He looks over my shoulder. “Beau,” he says, nodding as he turns and walks out.