by Poppy Adams
Southern Package
By
Poppy Adams
Southern Package
By Poppy Adams
Copyright © 2019
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Note: This book was previously published under a different pen name, but has been re-edited and re-released.
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This book is for all those who believe in love.
Chapter 1
It seemed silly.
Crazy. Wild. Illogical.
But unfortunately the heart doesn’t listen to logic.
Despite her best efforts to listen to reason, Lilly Swift had fallen for a guy whom she had never met.
Unsure when it happened exactly, it seemed to creep up on her like an invisible coating. He donated to her anti-gambling foundation anonymously, based in Austin, Texas.
She named him Anon for obvious reasons.
‘There are days when I want to run screaming to the corner of my bedroom and hide, and there are others when I want to run laughing through the streets, sun on my face and joy in my heart. Usually, the first is when I have to give a speech, and the second is when you've sent me one of your insightful and entertaining emails.’
Lilly didn’t have to wait long until Anon wrote a reply:
‘The feeling's mutual. I loved the speech you sent me earlier. You'll do it justice, I'm sure. Imagine I'm in the crowd, watching, clapping, and grinning insanely.’
For over five years, he donated ever-increasing sums, and the regularity of his emails increased too. After around a year, Anon also began texting her with funny anecdotes and observations. They clicked through their messages, but he refused to meet in person. It bothered Lilly that she knew so little about him.
Not even his real name because her charity allowed anonymous donations.
Regardless, they shared so much else so their relationship was as real to her as any physical one. He had become her obsession.
‘Honey, you have no idea,’ Lilly texted back, sighing as she pressed the send button on her cell.
She imagined him in a Tux - over six feet tall, with dark wavy hair, cropped short around the sides, but a little longer on top.
He would be broad shouldered and strong, but not so muscle-bound as to distort a good suit.
His eyes would be either intensely dark or interestingly pale—she didn't mind which.
They would linger on her, whispering quietly, 'Come to bed.'
The buzz he gave her made it all worth it.
He just got her, and everyone needs to be got.
She threw her cell in her bag and checked her makeup in the mirror. Applying her lipstick, she imagined his plump lips against hers, "Ah, if only."
No matter how vivid her imagination, she couldn't imagine his face.
Lilly asked someone to trace his phone once, a while back, and to track his IP address.
All to no avail.
Since he gave generously and never asked for anything in return, she gave up trying to find him. She would hate to lose her charity’s biggest donor because of an irrational crush.
Instead, she respected his right to privacy and enjoyed their communications. Each word was something wonderful to treasure, and her normal life soon became a kind of interruption between the moments shared with him in cyberspace.
Abbey, her friend, said this existence was unhealthy - 'Looney-Tunes,' and 'a total waste of emotion.'
She said he was probably over sixty, bald, and on his way to a heart attack too, but Lilly didn't care about all those things.
In her dreams, her robust, square jawed, smoldering-eyed guy was a honey-pot.
And his mouth… ah, his mouth.
But mostly, he was safe.
Lilly didn't do relationships well, what with her trust issues and all, but she could do this with him.
An alarm buzzed from her bag.
It was coming from her cell.
"Oops, time to leave for another speech." She wanted to sit all day and read his words but worked called, and that wasn't the only thing she was nervous about.
Abbey put her foot down a few days ago and Lilly felt compelled to agree to her demands, if only to appease her and stop her whining.
She wasn't looking forward to her date tonight, and wondered whether she should have confessed to Anon about her blind date.
But despite the appeal of a physical relationship, she didn’t want to risk the one she had with Anon.
If only she could have both…
Chapter 2
She almost vomited before the speech, as usual, but it went well enough.
There wasn't much of an audience this time thankfully—only around twelve gamblers and their group leader in an AA meeting, which helped. Still, it meant her nerves were on edge an hour later sitting in the restaurant, ready to entertain Abbey's choice of date.
While waiting for her blind date to arrive, the obligatory recognition item - a white rose on the table next to her wine glass - Lilly tapped her foot and decided to fess up to Anon about her date.
He would be cool about it and offer her a confidence boost, she was sure.
It might even make him jealous enough to reveal his identity.
Oh, yes please.
Keeping it as casual as possible, she texted:
‘So, I'm waiting for a blind date in a restaurant and he's late. I bet you're never late for anything.’
Part of her wanted him to tell her she should walk away and never date another man because only he deserved her.
She wanted him to walk through the door now and tell her he loved her.
But another part of her liked the distance they had.
She could handle their 'relationship' this way, however much she longed to be touched physically as well as emotionally.
Her father was always late picking her up from school, or a party, or a sleep over, and that's when he bothered to show up at all.
This meant she hated tardiness in anyone, and what made her expect to be let down by everyone at some point.
Sure, it was wrong to judge people by her father's behavior, but she couldn't help herself.
His behavior shaped her, fixed her in place: a place where distrust came as standard.
She straightened her skirt, squirming in her seat, wondering why Anon didn't reply.
Maybe he was jealous after all?
This was her first date in a long time, and her first ever date with someone from a dating website, of all things.
Abbey set up her profile on 'LoveLessNoMore.com' without her consent, only telling her about it when the 'right' guy showed an interest.
Abbey explained to her two nights prior to the date, "Don't be mad. You can't love an anonymous stalker—however wealthy—forever. He won't show up anywhere, ever. He certainly won't get you good and sweaty. He’s probably married with fourteen kids and thirty-eight grandkids. You need to meet a real man. You need physical touch. You need to do things in real life."
Why couldn't she mind her own business?
Lilly was happy as she was.
Why rock a well balanced, if imperfect, boat?
Abbey shrugged at her, in her usual, before adding, "You should be thanking me—the guy I set you up with is seriously hot. Like mega hot."
At that point, Abbey had flicked open her cell to show her a picture of him from the dating website.
Perhaps a real life, skin, muscle and bone man in her bed now and
again was . . . a good idea, after all?
Maybe it's worth stepping out of my comfort zone to get a little sweaty?
Waiting in the restaurant—her date's choice, not hers—Lilly struggled to sit still. Her date was already half an hour late.
At least flicking through Anon's emails distracted her a little from the sense of annoyance growing in her.
As she read, she imagined him speaking his words to her instead.
She learned early on he was a man beyond reproach, benevolent, and beautiful—the perfect three 'B's.
He had contributed millions of dollars a year to Lilly's anti-gambling foundation for the past five years.
It was clear to her that he possessed the same desire to support problem gamblers as she did, which was rare.
People tended to think addiction was more a selfish character trait than a disease.
Yes, her faceless benefactor featured heavily in her dreams; though she longed to put a face to the incredible torso she made love to each night.
Eyes down, focusing on his words and the images they created in her mind, she sniffed something smoky and grimaced.
Her gaze moved from her cell to a dirty pair of boots right by her table, and when she shot a glance at the owner of said boots and odor, she gasped at the stunning face smiling down at her.
"Hi, I'm Fredrick. It's Lilly, right?" His voice was a smooth southern accent, and almost had her swooning instantly.
His hair was a dark dusty mop, which needed a good wash, but his eyes were a glorious deep golden brown, and when he smiled, he flashed a good set of creamy white teeth.
“Hi.”
He studied his feet. "Sorry, I was running late."
Wearing a big friendly expression, a dark leather jacket, black t-shirt and jeans, and smelling as though he'd stopped off to smoke a cigar, she fidgeted in her formal suit.
Lilly wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but she couldn't resist his smile. He was a stranger who made zero difference to her life, other than wasting a few hours. "Well, at least you arrived . . ."
Sure, he was sexy to look at.
But she new, deep down, no matter what she told herself earlier, her needs reached far beyond getting sweaty.
How could Fredrick compete with the soul enriching relationship she had with Anon?
Truth was, he couldn't. Who could?
But he could provide some much needed fun…
Chapter 3
While Fredrick moved through the busy restaurant, searching for the radiant face of his not-so-blind-date amongst the tables—a face he'd only seen in pictures, and in videos of her giving eloquent but nervous speeches to charity donors on You Tube—his nerves yanked at his stomach.
Already late and far from fresh, this was not going to plan.
He didn't feel great about his chances, but he had to take this opportunity to meet her in the flesh while he could.
A fresh layer of sweat dampened his torso when his eyes found the stunning red-haired beauty in the distance.
Wrapped, angelic-like in candlelight, wearing a navy suit jacket over a cream silky blouse, she shone.
The people around her slowed and silenced as she flicked her long, red hair over her slender shoulder.
Her face, a pale and perfect sphere, featured emerald eyes and a rosebud mouth he longed to taste.
For a second, the sight of her caught him like a backdraft in the gut, robbing him of breath. Yearning rushed through his soul like flames through a dry forest, stirring him. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
Oh shit, you're more beautiful than your pictures.
The countless times I've made love to you in my imagination and now, I'm about to meet you for real. It's almost too exciting.
He restrained his blazing imagination.
She didn't know him as he knew her.
His gaze dipped again, briefly assessing the swell of her chest before shooting back up to her face.
With only a few long strides, he approached her, removing his leather jacket on the way.
"Hey, I'm Fredrick," he said. "You're Lilly, right?"
“Hi.”
He studied his feet. "Sorry, I was running late."
He hung his jacket over the back of his chair, thinking what to say, what to do to make this right.
Be cool.
Be yourself.
Be as honest as you can be.
Partly from fighting fire at work, and partly from his rush to meet her, his black t-shirt was a little damp in areas.
He hoped it wasn't too noticeable, that the pronounced pectorals he worked hard on were as distracting to her as her chest was to him.
Clearly pissed at him, and who could blame her, he was sure she would understand once she heard his explanation.
His cheeks itched from the smoky residue, though he'd attempted to remove the soot with a towel before he left the fire station.
The emergency call-out they tagged to the end of his shift had made him late, but what choice did he have?
The threat of casualties in a fire always trumps a date.
Even this date.
The more he studied her expression, the more her beauty captured his mind.
It glowed from within her, like sunshine's warmth.
In fact, the auburn depth of her hair and the bold bright green of her eyes struck him dumb when he should have been explaining himself. He smiled down at her while she grimaced silently up at him.
He rarely found himself lost for words, and he feared she'd get up and leave before he found the right ones.
She flicked her long silky hair over her shoulder, which happened in slow motion to Fredrick, and emitted a kind of vanilla and musk fragrance, which made his mouth water.
Dammit, he couldn't give up on her, not yet.
Not now he'd seen her in the flesh.
Now he wanted to know more.
Much more.
"I was looking forward to meeting you, Lilly. Things came up at—"
"Listen, I should go."
She wants to leave.
Okay, so she isn't interested in excuses.
He beckoned the waiter who loitered in the wings and received a much more positive response from him when he rushed over. "Your finest Champagne, please. I have held up this beautiful lady long enough already."
He turned on his feet and moved quickly.
Fredrick returned his attention to the woman, determined to avoid eye-contact with him.
Picking up her white rose, he twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. "So, have you been here long?"
Her cheeks flushed and she finally rested her green gaze upon him.
A balloon of hope that she might have softened gave birth to the large smile he wore. "I arrived almost an hour ago, ten minutes before we were due to meet. I like to be early.”
"Ah, yes." Balloon of hope popped. "I would have texted or called to let you know I was running late, but you preferred not to supply your number on the dating site. Probably wise, but in these circumstances - kind of inconvenient."
Her eyes almost popped out of her head, "I caused you an inconvenience?"
Ouch. She was right. "Sorry. I mean, that's not what I meant."
She looked away.
Dammit, he was ruining his one chance.
"Hey, but now I'm here, I'd love to explain why I'm late."
She's fiery, takes no prisoners, beautiful, strong, and moving me in all the right ways. Even though she's about as forgiving as a viper.
"If you let me, Lilly. What do you say?"
Rather than listening to him, she gently shook her head.
He stopped talking.
The peachy flush to her cheeks was in fact the flush of irritation, not attraction.
Still hoping Champagne might help her to relax a little, he did as she said and stopped talking, waiting for the waiter to deliver his last chance.
He had yet to meet a woman who wasn't impressed by expensive Champagne, although she hadn't
mentioned it online.
Tension built between them in the silence, and when she went to stand, he feared his last chance would arrive too late. "Wait, please."
"Sorry," she said to him, all breathy. "It's just . . . there are more important things I need to be getting on with than . . ." Lilly checked the time on her cell, "Truth is, I don't date much. And… look, I’m sure you’re lovely and all, but I’m just not ready for this."
His stomach cramped, and reflexively, he clung to her hand, "At least stay for the Champagne."
"No thanks."
Dammit.
This was not going as he expected.
He could kick himself for being so presumptuous.
"Please, Lilly?"
He messed up and she was as stubborn as hell.
Definitely not going the way he expected.
Chapter 4
Lilly was beyond disappointed, though she couldn't deny his tall stature, golden brown eyes and even his dirty dark wavy hair gave her goose bumps.
And that accent… yum.
The glint in those eyes added to the struggle against the growing urge to walk away, but his honeyed voice was what held her there.
Loving the written word alone all these years seemed to add importance to a man's voice.
This man's voice.
"Champagne not your poison, huh? No problem, tell me what is and it's yours. Let me make up for keeping a beautiful lady like you waiting."
Why am I still here?
What could I hope to gain from this trust-fund playboy?
She fidgeted in her seat, imagining where this date might have ended had he not been so late.
He was delicious, but the inevitable emptiness she would get from this kind of man in the aftermath of casual sex—no thanks.
The waiter returned with their fizz and went to pour them both a glass.
Lilly covered her glass with her hand, trying with all her strength not to give her date eye contact. "Not for me, thanks."
"Can I get you something else?" asked the waiter. "The wine list, perhaps?"
Fredrick's gaze drilled into the side of her cheek.
