Stand (Southern Heartbeats Vol. 1)

by Jennifer Rebecca

  “Yeah, that about sums it up,” I tell her. Shit, she thinks I'm a loser. Which I am. What other fucker gets creamed at the end of the Super Bowl only to have his fiancée leave him for being a cripple and then hook up with the quarter back on the same team? A fucking loser, that's who. And a quick google search on her phone will confirm all of that so… She's studying my face and I hope to God she's kind when she shoots me down in front of my friends. I see the pitying looks on their faces and I know they see the same thing. Indifference, and then rejection in hers. My dick starts to wilt.

  “Okay. When?” She asks. Shocking the shit out of all three of us. And just like that he pops right back up. We're back in the game, buddy, hang in there!

  “What?” We all ask at the same time. She's not bothered at all by our moronic nature.

  “When would you like to go out? I'd love to have someone show me the town. Aunt Mable just wants to hang out at the beauty shop, but I'm about forty years too young for that crowd,” she says honestly, laughing softly. It's the best sound I have ever heard in the whole world. Shit. I'm such a loser.

  “Is now too soon?” I ask and see Sam and Holt cringe. Too strong? Shit. I'm rusty. “How about Saturday night? We can grab dinner and drive around,” I ask her.

  “Great. It's a date,” she smiles at me. Holy shit. I'm taking my angel to dinner on Saturday night. My mind starts to spin.

  Cody

  It’s Saturday night and I’m ready. I am mother fucking ready. Look out, horse, I’m ready to get back on you. Oh, God, Sam is right, I’m such a douche. But I shake off those negative thoughts as I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. There is no place for that negativity here! My hair is a little long but I comb it. I’ve shaved my face, check. After shave, check. Deodorant, check. There are scars on my torso, but Holt says she’s probably not going to see me naked for a while. While that sucks, I’m ok with it because for the first time in a long time, I want something. Someone. Plus, my abs are kind of the shit, so I’m hoping when Angel does see them, she doesn’t care about the scars. Speaking of not seeing her naked for a while, new bottle of lotion in the bathroom, double sad face, check.

  Is it warm in here? The towel around my waist is getting a little tight and scratchy. I look at the clock, no time. Shit. I have to make it go away. Baseball, nope. Cold showers, oh shit, I’m still hard. My grandmother wearing that flag bikini at the last Memorial Day BBQ at the lake. Aannnnndddd, I’m good. Whew, had to pull out the big guns on that one.

  I look down at Steve, my German shepherd, is giving me a disgusted look. Steve would never go to this extent for woman, I just know it. But who does he think he is anyways. I shrug off his negativity.

  “She’s not like that, Steve,” I tell him. “She’s a nice girl.” Steve just groans as he lays down.

  Feeling like my time away from the flagpole is limited, I run to my closet and quickly step into some gray boxer briefs and my favorite worn too many times jeans. Shoving my dick in deep. That fucker needs to be secure. With the way my Angel gets to me, it’ll only be a matter of time before I embarrass myself like I’m thirteen again. I throw on a black t-shirt and my brown leather belt and grab my socks and brown boots.

  Steve just puts a paw over his eyes and groans again. Who knew he was such a judgey bastard. I run to my bureau and grab my wallet and cell phone and stuff them in my pockets. I palm my keys and head for the door.

  Shit. I’m early. What to do, what to do? I grab my keys and run to my truck. I know what you’re thinking. I have a big, shiny red truck to show off how tiny my dick is. And you would be wrong. I have an old beat up Chevy long bed that was my grandfathers and I worked my fingers to the bone and my body to near death on his farm to earn that old piece of shit. And I love it. And so does the old man. He laughs every time he sees me driving it.

  I hop in my truck and head towards town. I see Ms. Maeve in her flower shop. I know she’s about to close, so I jump out quickly and knock on the glass front door. When she hears me, she looks up and gives me the biggest smile. Ms. Maeve and my grandmother have been best friends since they were five years old. She waves to me to come in side.

  I push open the door and she hustles around the corner to give me a big hug. I have to bend over because Ms. Maeve is all of about four foot ten and I’m about six foot four. She slaps my cheek playfully and smiles at my face smushed between her small, bony hands.

  “Oooh! My precious boy,” she squeals. “What are you doing in here with me? I hear you have a hot date with a certain New York nurse.”

  “That I do, Ms. Maeve, that I do. But I was hoping you had something befitting my angel,” I smile back at her.

  “I have just the thing,” Ms. Maeve hurries over to the shop door and throws the sign to closed. Then she continues to flit around her store like the town’s own personal flower fairy, which is something I’ve been trying to get her to admit to me since I was a little boy.

  She spreads her special wax paper on her work table and runs over to the cooler on the left. She returns with a big tub of pink roses. I look at her. Roses? Aren’t they a little overdone, a little valentine’s day?

  “Shut your mouth, child and let me work,” she snaps at me without my ever uttering a word. “You pull up a stool and be a good boy.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I utter, chastised. And well, do as I’m told. I pull up an old, wooden stool and sit where many a bride has sat picking out flowers. Or many a man has sat, hoping to woo a girl. Is that what I’m doing? Wooing? Shit, now I’m rhyming. I’m such a pussy.

  Ms. Maeve fidgets and fusses over the buds in her bucket before deciding on five pink roses that she lays on her work table. Then she flutters like a humming bird over to the cooler and deposits the bucket back in its place. Then she hops on over to the other cooler and nabs a bucket of big pink cabbages on stems and hurries back.

  “Is that cabbage?” I ask. She shoots me a withering look.

  “No, you moron, these are my precious peonies,” she tells me with her chin in the air and her head held high. “You said you wanted something fitting an angel, well these are commonly known as angel cheeks.” And I can’t help but smile. Perfect. I make a mental note to find peony everything for my angel.

  “That’s perfect, Ms. Maeve. I knew my own flower fairy wouldn’t let me down,” I tell her as I round the corner and wrap my big arms around her, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Oh, you big brute, turn me loose. I have important work to do. How do you expect to get laid if I can’t get these flowers just right?” She says as she swats my chest.

  “Ms. Maeve, I’m scandalized!” I tell her putting my hands over my ears as she shoots me a wink and laughs.

  Next she replaces the peonies back in their rightful place after selecting the best, and moving on to choose some fern shit. Ferns? Like my gran has on her porch. Sure enough. This time I’m wise enough not to question.

  Ms. Maeve starts to layer all of her different plant selections with her nimble fingers and I have to say, I’m impressed. If I had tried, it would have looked like shit. And I’m already getting enough guff from Steve. I don’t need him thinking I’m a bigger loser than I already am. She deftly rolls the wax paper around the stems and greenery and ties a soft green bow around them to hold it all together.

  “There you go, Champ. Go get your girl.” She hands the bouquet to me and it’s one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen. Oh, God. I’m such a pussy.

  “Thanks, Ms. Maeve. What do I owe you?” I ask her knowing full well what she’ll say.

  “Nothing. Don’t you go and insult an old woman.” Maeve has not let me pay for one thing in this shop my whole life. It would bother me more, but her husband Merle is a big oil baron. Her shop is just to keep her from killing Merle now that he’s retired and home all the time. “I thought your mama raised you better?” She play swats me again.

  I kiss her cheek and make my way back out to my truck. I lay the blooms on the seat and fire the old girl up. I drive
around the corner to the old blue craftsman on the main drag where I know Angel and Ms. Mable have set up shop. I get out of the truck and wipe my sweaty palms down my jeans. Oh, shit. What if Steve was right and I’m a moron? Jesus, I’m taking dating advice from a dog. I should have my head examined. Wait, I don’t want to know. I reach in and grab my bouquet and head up the narrow walk. When I stop at the top, I take a deep breath to ease my nerves and knock on the door.

  “Coming!” She shouts from in the house and God what I wouldn’t give to hear her shout that under a different set of circumstances. I shake off the naughty thoughts because now is not the time to let my dick run the show, when the door opens to an angel, my Angel.

  “Hi,” I say softly. “These are for you.” I hand her the flowers, my arm stiff, my head tipped down, shy. Oh, fuck. It’s like I’m thirteen again.

  “Hi,” she smiles brightly at me. And reaches for the flowers. “Thanks for these. How did you know peonies are my favorite?” She leans in close and kisses my cheek. I can’t help it, I wrap my right arm tight around her waist and hug her to me as she kissed me. I let go when she moves to step back.

  “I didn’t. But Ms. Maeve said they’re called angel cheeks, and you’re my angel, so I figured…” I trail off feeling like a tool.

  “Well, I love them. Come on inside while I put them in water and grab my jacket,” she says as she holds the door wide open. And not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I follow her in like a lost puppy.

  Angel makes her way towards the back of the house and into a bright, sunny kitchen. She sets my flowers on the counter gently. Almost, lovingly. Then heads over to a big white buffet cabinet. She opens the upper glass cabinet door and stands on her toes but can’t quite reach what she wants. I make my way to stand behind her to see if I can see what she’s looking for and, I can’t be held accountable for what happened, it just did. I maybe leaned in a little too close. Her back to my front. My cock nestled lovingly between her cheeks. I bite my lip as I reach for the crystal vase she was reaching for.

  Angel grabs onto the lip of the cabinet and holds on for dear life. She tips her head back against my shoulder and her eyes drift closed as I hear her breath catch in her throat. Maybe, my little Angel isn’t as unaffected as she would like to have me believe. Things are looking up! I carefully lift the vase and set it on the counter area of the buffet, leaning in so my lips are right by her ear.

  “Here you go, Angel,” I say. My voice husky even to my own ears.

  “Thanks,” she croaks out. I take a step back and release her from the moment we seem to be caught in, this pull between Angel and me.

  I see her steady herself with a deep breath and a naughty smile she throws me over her shoulder and I can’t help but smile right back. She grabs the vase and heads over to the sink. Angel moves to the fridge and grabs a can of sprite and then makes her way over to the vase. She pops the can and dumps about a third of it in the vase and then offers the can to me.

  “No thanks,” I laugh.

  “Suit yourself, but my pretty flowers will appreciate it,” she fills the vase with water and carefully opens Ms. Maeve’s ribbon and paper wrapping. Then delicately places her bouquet in the soda and water mix. Afterwards, tying the ribbon around her left wrist. “There. Ready to go?” She says studying her work.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I smile at her.

  As she walks back toward the door, I really get a chance to look at her. Dark skinny jeans that could be second skin and a dark green, silky tank top that flows from her breasts just giving a hint of the glory that lies beneath. And Fuck me, she finishes it off with black heels. They’re nothing special. Not the designer labels girls I dated in New York wore, but they are shiny and have a tall enough heel to make her ass look great.

  It takes a minute for her to lock the old door once we’re on the front porch and I reach around her with both arms to help shimmy the handle so the door with lock. I lead her down the walk to my truck and surprise her by opening her door for her.

  “A gentleman? I thought you were a dying breed,” she asks with a fake shocked face. I wink and shut her door behind her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I tell her as I climb in and start the truck. “One of the last remaining.”

  “You’re not what I was expecting,” she tells me softly.

  “And what were you expecting?” I ask her back.

  “I’m not really sure. But I like what I see,” she says softly.

  The rest of the ride to the Bourbon Barrel, the best steakhouse in Texas, and only twenty miles outside of town, passes in comfortable silence. Angel is a gal who doesn’t need to fill silence nervously or awkwardly. I like that. I could almost see spending quiet nights at home with Angel and Steve, reading by the fire. Now where did that thought come from?

  When we get to the Bourbon Barrel, I park the truck and quickly hop out and run around it to help Angel down. I offer her my arm as we walk into the restaurant and she takes it with a soft smile. I have a reservation and Maker’s is in a town about as big as Tall Pines so everyone knows everyone. When we walk up to the hostess she grabs two menus and leads us to a quiet booth in the back.

  “Here you go,” then hands us our menus.

  “Thanks, Amy,” I tell her.

  “Thank you,” Angel tells her.

  We study the menu for a while. I can’t tell if she’s a red wine or lager girl with her dinner. I’m about to ask her when she scares the shit out of me.

  “Oh, this is a steak place?” She asks innocently. When I nod yes, she answers. “Damn, I guess I forgot to tell you, I’m a vegetarian.”

  And just like that my brain seizes. I let out a wheeze thinking well, it was nice knowing you, Angel of my dreams. How could I fuck up a date so badly before we even order drinks? Jesus.

  “Got you!” She laughs. And I’m stunned. “Seriously, how rare do you think they can make it?” She asks in all seriousness.

  “Wait, you’re not a vegetarian?” I ask.

  “No way. My mom was though. Hated the stuff. Felt we shouldn’t eat animals. Mable and I always felt that they shouldn’t be so delicious if we weren’t supposed to eat them,” she laughs and I can’t help but laugh with her.

  When the waitress shows up, we both order prime rib with loaded baked potatoes, broccoli with salads and a bottle of red wine to start. The food is amazing but the conversation is better. I can’t believe how amazing Angel is. She’s more. So much more. But I still can’t bring myself to tell her that I remember her from the hospital in New York.

  I don’t tell her about the NFL and she doesn’t ask which is nice. She does ask about my family and friends and how I like teaching at the school. She also loves the school and can’t wait to see my team in action in the fall. I have a feeling that my boys will be seeing a lot of her as they’re a pretty rough and tumble crowd.

  “You ready to go, Angel?” I ask her softly after tossing a bunch of bills in the folder with the check. Her eyes have a happy soft, dreamy look to them. Whether it’s from the wine, the food, or me, I don’t care. I just love seeing it. Oh, who am I kidding? I hope it’s me.

  I walk Angel out to the truck and hold her door open for her. She smiles at me when I close it behind her. I round the hood and open my own door and hop in. Before I can even start the truck she’s across the bench seat, snuggled into my side, her head on my shoulder.

  “Cold?” I ask her.

  “No,” she tells me softly. I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from groaning as we make our way back into town. I park at the curb in front of her house and this time she doesn’t make any pretense of trying to get out by herself. She knows it’s important to me.

  I open her door and take her hand to help her from the truck. She pulls her keys from her purse and unlocks the front door, but makes no move to open it.

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she tells me as she reaches up to kiss me on the cheek. Like last time, I wrap my arms around her waist. But unlike last time, I turn
my head at the last possible second and kiss her like I mean it. When she gasps, I run my hand up her back and into her long loose curls, licking into her mouth and tasting the red wine and Angel. When she sighs I soften my kiss and let go of her hair, but not her body. She lowers her eyes and rolls her bottom lip in her mouth, biting it while she gathers her thoughts.

  “Want to come inside?” She asks me, her eyes meeting mine. And hell yes, I do. My dick has been harder than a goal post since the first time I saw my Angel, then and now, but I have to be sure.

  Angellica

  Want to come inside? I hear myself ask and it’s like an out of body experience. But I can’t help it. I have been aware of the handsome football coach since I first landed in this town, but tonight everything changed. He was kind and funny and surprisingly romantic. And let’s not forget how sexy he is even if he isn’t trying. So yeah, I invited him in.

  “You sure?” He asks and I just smile coyly, I hope, and nod yes. “And Mable?” He asks.

  “She’s out of town,” I tell him, my back to the door. He nods once, and tightens his grip on my waist. Like I said, sexy. He leans down and puts his forehead on mine.

  “I’d love to,” he says softly.

  I turn and open the door. Placing my purse and keys on the table in the entry way. I hear Cody shut the door behind me and throw the lock. When I turn around, he’s there, his mouth on mine. Cody lifts his hands and shoves them in my hair. And I go wild. I don’t know what happened. I’ve never been like this before. With anyone. Not Joe. Not Jimmy the Saint Bernard. Not anyone in between.

  Cody growls as he deepens the kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck and he lowers his hands to grab my ass and pull me tight against what is proving to be an impressive erection. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I hop up and wrap my legs around his waist. I whimper when the stars align if you know what I mean. I throw my head back on my shoulders as he kisses his way down my jaw to that place on my neck that apparently makes me go crazy, I wouldn’t know, no one has ever found it before. I grab fists full of his t-shirt in my hands and move my mouth back to his.