Southern Delight (Southern Desires Series Book 3)

by Jeannette Winters

  “Sorry, babe.”

  “Stop saying that.” This time, her voice wasn’t soft. She pushed herself away from his chest but didn’t get off his lap.

  He didn’t know what he’d said. Trying to figure it out was only going to waste time, and they’d been parked too long already. He figured Mark would have someone watching their backs out there, but he didn’t want to tempt fate. And if they didn’t show up at the house soon, he knew Mark would send the team looking. Don didn’t want to explain to anyone why they took a detour.

  “What did I do? What did I say?”

  She looked at him but said nothing.

  “Help me understand.”

  Bailey looked down before speaking. He could see in her eyes that whatever she was about to say was tearing her apart. He needed to give her the time and space she needed to get through this. It wasn’t about him and what he wanted. If he really was going to be there for her, it needed to be on her terms, not his.

  “I hate the word sorry. People say it all the time, and I just can’t stand it anymore. You probably think I’m ungrateful, that people are just trying to show they care, but I don’t want them to be sorry. They didn’t give me cancer. So why should they be sorry?”

  He’d never thought of it that way. Don knew why he said it. He was sorry she was hurting, having to go through such horrible medical treatments, and sorry for not being there. But she was right. His saying it was actually something he did for himself, not her. How could I ever think a simple word like sorry would change a thing? If I’m sorry, I should’ve shown her with my actions.

  The word sorry almost slipped past his lips again. It was a natural thing to say. Without it, he wasn’t sure what to say to ease her pain. But saying nothing was not good either. Maybe it’s not saying but listening instead.

  Still not meeting his eyes, Bailey sat twisting her fingers as though she were tangling them up as much as the mess their relationship had become. That’s how I feel on the inside, and there’s so much I know about this ugly world that she doesn’t. I’m hiding things from her, and she’s hiding things from me. But she doesn’t have to. She should let it out. It’ll eat her up if she doesn’t.

  After a minute of neither speaking, she continued, “I don’t look like I did.”

  Don said nothing. He knew it wasn’t a question she needed to hear an answer to.

  “When I look in the mirror, it’s like I’m looking at someone else.” She hadn’t wanted to look like her old self because she didn’t feel like her. Bailey ran her hand down her blonde wig in deep thought. “Not me.”

  “I only see you, Bailey.”

  She turned to face him, her green eyes filled with tears on the brink of overflowing again. Her cheeks were still damp from the first batch. It’d be so easy for him to reach up and brush them away, but that was only an external fix. Her pain was so much deeper.

  “How? Nothing is the same, Don.” She lifted a few strands of blonde to show him.

  “If you hate it, take it off.” Once he said it, he regretted it. He’d wanted to only listen, and now he was pushing her to a place she probably wasn’t ready to go yet.

  “I . . . you . . . it’s not easy, Don. I’m bald, well, practically bald. My hair is only just starting to grow back. You don’t want to see it. I’m—”

  “The same woman who I couldn’t stay away from six months ago. Or do you think it was only your brown hair that I couldn’t resist?”

  He noticed a slight curl of her lips as he said those simple, yet honest words.

  “Bailey. I’ve seen every inch of you, or have you forgotten?”

  Her pale cheeks showed the slightest hint of pink as she shook her head. He knew she hadn’t forgotten a moment of the time they shared. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could picture her body trembling with need as he kissed her from head to toe. How I wish she’d let me touch her, help her forget. We both need to escape the hell we’re in, and there’s no place I’d rather be than with her.

  Don reached up and touched the wig. She pulled back only an inch then stopped. He was preparing himself for her to tell him not to touch her. Yet she covered his hand with hers. He didn’t move it and let her guide him. Slowly she brought it up toward her forehead. Once there she closed her eyes and moved his hand so it ever so slowly began to push the wig backward. He could feel her tense as more and more of her scalp was being revealed.

  His heart was racing as he was forced to let her keep control of the situation. When the wig finally fell from her head, he caught it with his free hand. Neither of them looked at it as he put in on the passenger seat where she’d been sitting earlier.

  Her eyes stayed closed, but his didn’t. Yes, she was bald, but still, the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Maybe it’s because I care for her, but even now she’s setting a fire in me. “Look at me, Bailey. See what I see.”

  She hesitated and Don moved his hand from hers and touched her cheek gently.

  “Open your sweet green eyes and look at me.” His voice was soft as he coaxed her to obey. He wasn’t going to push, but he’d wait, because he knew she needed this and it was her way of starting to heal. Don would be there in any way she needed. Tonight she needed him to see her. Maybe another time she’d open up and see her reflection through him. If she could see what I see when I look at her, she’d never hide from me again. I’m not sure either of us are ready to admit that just yet. Maybe keeping her eyes closed right now is the best for us both.

  “Kiss me.” Bailey’s voice was barely a whisper and shook as she spoke.

  Don traced her lips with his thumb. He wanted to taste them again, explore her. His body pounded with need, and he refused to give it what it wanted. Tonight it’s all about Bailey and nothing more. Leaning forward, his lips brushed hers. The kiss was tender and loving, and he held back anything more. If she didn’t offer or ask for more, he wasn’t going to give it.

  Her lips left his and only then did she open her eyes. “Thank you, Don.”

  He smiled and lifted her off his lap and gently helped her back to the passenger seat. Instantly he missed the feel of her being so close. There was so much he needed to say, wanted to hear, but none of that was happening until he knew the threat was over.

  Don threw the truck in drive and headed back to Mark and Hannah’s. The ride may have been in silence, but his eyes kept trailing over to her sweet face. Yes, Bailey. I’ll be back, and we’ll pick this up again. But now I know whatever there is between you and Kevin is nothing compared to what we have. Why are you with him when I can see in your eyes you still want me? It’s as though you are trying to push me away on purpose. But why? Did you really think you were no longer beautiful to me? I understand why someone would think that would be my reaction. My track record isn’t pretty. But you’re different, and I’m different when I’m with you. Damn it. Timing of this couldn’t be any worse. But I promise, once things are calm, I won’t hold back, and I hope you won’t want me to.

  Bailey couldn’t sleep. Don’s words replayed over and over again in her head until she was about to scream. She rolled back and forth in her bed, caught between smiling and crying without a clue as to which felt truer: that Don accepted her flaws, or that he hadn’t seen the whole of her broken self.

  The sun had long since risen, and the smell of muffins seeped through the cracks of her door, making it impossible to stay in bed another moment. Throwing the covers off, she grabbed her bathrobe from the bedpost, slipped it on, and followed her nose to the delicious aroma.

  Normally Bailey wouldn’t leave her room without putting on some makeup and her wig. Yet this morning she hadn’t even realized she hadn’t until she entered the kitchen. Everyone was already gathered around the table chatting up a storm, but the room went quiet when they saw her. Only then did she become self-conscious.

  She met Don’s eyes, and he must’ve read her thoughts. “Got an open spot right here for you, Bailey.”

  Everything in her wanted to bolt
back to her room, dive under the covers, and never come out. Yet the look in Don’s eyes was the same she’d seen last night—one that made her feel like her old self. Not completely, but even just a bit was more than she had in months.

  Bailey walked around the table. There was an open spot near Kevin and another between Sissie and Mark. There was only one place she wanted to be, and that was near Don. Whatever it was he did to me last night, I want to feel it again.

  As she sat down, Don’s hand touched her thigh under the table and gave it a soft pat, letting her know it was okay. I hate to admit it, but I need him with me right now. I don’t want to need him like this, but I do. Something about him makes me feel stronger, not so afraid of tomorrow.

  “I didn’t want to get up this morning either, but the smell of Sissie’s blueberry muffins was too tempting,” Don said.

  “She is a wonderful cook,” Bailey replied, trying to seem like everything was normal.

  “Bless your heart,” Sissie said, smiling from across the table.

  Don reached for the basket in the center of the table, picked up a muffin, and put it on her plate. “You made it right in time because another five minutes and there’d be nothing left but crumbs.”

  “That would’ve been a bad start to the day,” Kevin said.

  Hannah jumped in, “I would’ve saved you one.”

  “She says that now, but a minute ago she was saying they were almost too good to share.” Mark teased Hannah giving her a light kiss on the head. “Hannah’s the most amazing woman, but for someone so tiny, she sure likes to eat.”

  Hannah’s mouth gaped open, and it looked like she was about to dispute his comment.

  “Hannah, I hate to say it, but Mark’s right. I remember all the take-out leftovers mysteriously disappearing overnight. These muffins didn’t have a chance,” Bailey said, enjoying the change of focus.

  Hannah threw her linen napkin across the table at Bailey. “I told you, we had mice.”

  “With thumbs that opened refrigerators,” Bailey said, laughing.

  Everyone in the room joined in the fun, and before she knew it, there wasn’t another quiet moment the entire time. It was so refreshing, no tension, no stress.

  “I’ll do the dishes this morning since I was too late to help with the cooking.” She wanted to do them, if not for any other reason than to be helpful, needed. She prepared herself for an argument, but none came.

  One by one they left the kitchen until it was only Don and her. He was clearing the table as she filled the sink with hot water and soap. When the room was quiet, she began scrubbing the massive pile. “Cooking is so much more fun than the cleanup.”

  “And eating is better than both.” Don chuckled.

  Startled to hear Don’s voice when she’d thought she was alone, she dropped the pan into the full sink, and suds splashed up into the air everywhere.

  She turned and asked, “Why are you still here?”

  Don answered, “You wash and I’ll dry.”

  That didn’t answer her question. He should be off with his friends. There must’ve been ten thousand last-minute tasks that needed his attention. Hannah and Mark were getting married tomorrow. She knew she had her own list to tend to after she finished with the dishes.

  “I can do them myself.”

  He reached out and wiped some of the suds that’d settled on the shoulder of her bathrobe. “I mean you can, but why would you want to?”

  She ignored the question and turned back to face the sink. If he wanted to help, she’d let him. Heck, I’ll even let him wash and dry if he wants to.

  He didn’t ask again, and she watched him open the drawer and pull out a dish towel. Awfully comfortable here, aren’t you? She tried to hide her smile. Even though she wasn’t going to admit it, she was happy for the help.

  “I’m proud of you,” Don said as he began wiping the plates she’d washed.

  For what? Knowing how to wash dishes? How do you think I made it through college? Dishwasher, CNA, and part-time stand-up comic. Some days blended together so much I wasn’t sure if I was good at any of them. That seems so long ago. Look at me now, back to dishwasher. Heck, I don’t even have a job. I need to add that to my list of things to rectify after this wedding is over.

  “I mean it, Bailey. You’re a courageous woman.” His voice held nothing but sincerity.

  She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. He couldn’t say something like that to her. There was nothing courageous about coming out for breakfast. If anything she was the least courageous person she knew.

  “Don’t say that, Don.”

  “I don’t say it lightly.”

  “Okay. You think you know me, so what do you see that is so courageous?” Bailey had no idea why she asked him that. It wasn’t that she wanted to hear any of it. He could say anything he wanted, but that didn’t make it the truth, and the last thing she wanted was to talk about it. Why do I have to have feelings for the one man who wants to talk about mine? I thought men liked to avoid conversations on tough topics. Trust me, Don. I’m onboard with that.

  He put the towel on the counter and took her hand, leading her back to the table.

  “I have work to do. There is no time for sitting and chatting.”

  “Your excuses don’t work on me. None of it does, Bailey. I see right through it all. So sit. We need to talk.”

  It was apparent he wasn’t going to let go of her until she complied. Only once she took a seat did he as well.

  “You haven’t told me about your cancer.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I know you don’t. Not with everyone. But I see it in your eyes when you look at me. You want me to understand, but you’re afraid that I won’t.”

  He was right. It didn’t make her happy that he could see what she worked so hard to keep hidden, but it didn’t surprise her that he could. They’d connected on a level once before that was unlike anything she’d experienced. Months later, it hadn’t faded one bit.

  “How can you understand what I don’t? I try to understand, but then my brain starts working and thoughts that don’t make any sense creep in. Before you know it, I’m more of a stranger than I am Bailey Tasca.”

  “Cancer puts you in limbo, always waiting for the next test or result.”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes. And always thinking positive but, deep down, afraid to really believe it in case the news comes back bad again. It’s like I’m afraid to—”

  “Be happy, because it feels like you’re letting your guard down. You don’t want to be blindsided a second time.”

  “I thought you were into construction, not psychology. How do you know this?”

  “My mother had cancer while I was still in school. When they thought I was in bed, I would sneak down and listen to her and my dad talking. I didn’t understand what any of it meant until I saw you.”

  “Did she have . . .?” She gestured to her chest.

  “No. Not breast cancer.”

  She hadn’t told him what she had, but being in his arms and pressed up against him, she knew he’d felt the difference in her body. Bailey hated that realization, but it was the fact, and obviously he had no problem stating facts either.

  She was afraid to ask, but by the pain in his eyes she knew. His mother didn’t survive. How she wanted to reach out and hold him; even though it’d been many years before, the pain he wore on his sleeve said it could’ve been yesterday. Is that why you want to help me? Because you were too young to be there for your mother?

  “I guess, no matter what kind of cancer, we all face some of the same things.” Even though some handle it so much better than I do. I should be grateful. So far I’m doing great. It looks promising that they caught it all early. So why am I still feeling this way? Like I have no control of my life?

  “Everyone faces things differently. It doesn’t mean that how one deals with it is wrong just because another person copes with the same issue another way. Th
at’s why I said you’re a courageous woman.”

  “What have I done that’s so courageous?” Bailey couldn’t think of one thing at all. She really wanted to know what he saw. Maybe it would help. Maybe not.

  “You’re here supporting your best friend for one of the happiest times of her life when you are feeling anything but happy. You went out and got up on a stage, putting yourself out there for everyone to see and judge and didn’t let your own doubts get in the way.” In a softer voice, he added, “You sing like an angel, by the way.”

  She felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of him enjoying her singing. “This is not about me; it’s about Mark and Hannah. I’d never do anything to hurt either of them.”

  Don smiled. “And you coming out this morning without your wig was the best gift you could’ve given them . . . and yourself.”

  She was puzzled by that. The look on everyone’s face was shock but everyone was kind enough not to say what was on their minds. Once she was there it would’ve been worse leaving and coming back in with it on.

  “It was an accident.”

  “No, Bailey. Just like it wasn’t an accident last night when you removed it with me.”

  Was he right? Had she subconsciously left it behind? What was she trying to prove by doing that? It’s not as if I feel pretty without it. So why do it? Why let everyone see what I don’t even want to see myself?

  “Don’t get used to it, Don. It’ll be back on later.”

  “Put it on for you, not for any of us. You’re in a house filled with people who love you, blonde, brunette, or bald.”

  Bailey fought back the tears. She’d known all along hearing that from Don would mean more to her than anything else. How about you, Don, do you love me too? Is that why you’re doing all this? Saying all this? If so, then when are you going to open up to me about what’s going on?

  “Thank you, Don. Since we’re all about sharing today, want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Don arched a brow. “Nothing much. Business as usual.”

  Don’t underestimate me, Don. I know more than I say, think more than I speak, and notice more than you realize. Every man in this house is involved in whatever is going on. I know it doesn’t have anything to do with the wedding.