Wallflowers: One Heart Remains

by CP Smith

  We gasped in unison. Single meant one thing in the South, our boys were ripe for the picking for any hussy in a short skirt. Southern women were raised from an early age in the fine art of securing your man. This meant the girls and I were at war, and we’d shown up for a gunfight in shorts and flip-flops. We needed to get in there and stake our claims. Show them what was what. Who was who. Where the ‘effing exit was.

  Petunias!

  As we stood there gawking at the line, trying to decide whether to firebomb the bar or just start shooting, Bernice came strutting up—and by strutting, I mean good old-fashioned strut-ting because even at fifty-five the woman could stop traffic with the sway her hips—and scanned the line to get in. “I thought I’d join you for dinner, butterbean. What’s with the gaggle of short skirts?”

  Sienna had dug her phone out of her shorts and Googled the video on YouTube, so she thrust it at her. Bernice watched it, saying fondly, “Such gentlemen,” at the fireman’s carry they’d executed, but gasped when she finally read the description. “Single?” she cried out.

  “What should we do?” Cali begged. “Our men are surrounded by hussies, and we can’t get through the door.”

  “Call Nathaniel,” Bernice ordered immediately, looking at me. “He’ll make sure you get in, so you can stake your claim.”

  My eyes shot to Cali in awe. Bernice knew how to handle everything. “I told you she was a genius,” I stated, then pulled out my phone and dialed Nate. It took two calls and three rings for him to finally pick up.

  “Kitten? You all right?” he shouted over the noise inside. I grew warm and fuzzy, just like a kitten, hearing his endearment, and decided right then my claws would come out if another woman even glanced his direction.

  “I’m fine, but we can’t get in. All your female fans are blockin’ the way.”

  “You can’t get in?”

  “Have you looked out the window?”

  I could hear movement on his end, then a grunted, “Jesus.”

  Bernice held out her hand, snapping her fingers as I tried to hear his response. “Give me the phone,” she ordered with a grin. I knew the tone of mischief meant she had a plan, and the sparkle in her eyes confirmed it. I so wanted to be Bernice when I grew up.

  “I like the twinkle in your eyes,” I chuckled, handing over the phone.

  “There’s only one way to handle a gaggle like this,” Bernice drawled with an edge of authority, and a ‘stand back and let me show you how it’s done’ intensity.

  She turned her back and moved away from the crowd while she spoke to Nate. Moments later, she came back with a smile on her face and handed me my phone. Then she turned and faced the door like she was waiting for a show. Minutes after that, she got it. The crowd around us increased in volume and then parted like the Red Sea as Nate, Devin, and Bo pushed through them until they’d found us.

  I blinked at the beauty in front of me. All six and a half feet. Eyes the color of rich coffee took me in with a hint of heat, before thick arms, covered with sexy as all get out sinew and veins, wrapped around my waist and pulled me deep into his body. I gasped at the contact, just in time for his mouth to crash over mine, then he bent me at the waist and devoured my mouth like some kind of romance hero. It was awesome!

  My knees grew weak instantly, so I had to clutch onto his arms to remain standing when he swung me around and released my mouth.

  “Holy cow,” I whispered. “I just wanted a cheeseburger, but that works too.”

  His eyes grew hooded as he watched my mouth, and a trickle of awareness bloomed in my stomach, all hot and needy like. And that was beyond awesome too!

  “Bernice said this will help get rid of the crowd,” Nate rumbled low, his grin turning devious as he eyed the ladies currently gawking at us.

  Cali squeaked in surprise beside me. I turned in time to see Devin throw her over his shoulder like he’d done in the video. I understood what was happening, seconds before Nate bent at the waist and tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed no more than a child. They were demonstrating to all the single ladies (pun intended) they were already taken so they could take their big-haired, scrawny backsides right on home.

  My face met his muscled tush for a brief, thrilling second before he settled me higher on his shoulder. Being that close to his manly man buns reminded me about my own rear end, so I pushed myself up and turned my head so he could hear me. “Can I ask you somethin’ Bodacious Bar Owner?”

  Nate glanced up at me and smirked while he wound his way through the throngs of openmouthed women who were out hunting my man. “What?”

  “Did my gluteus maximus look large in that video?”

  Nate glanced at said posterior and cupped it firmly with his hand, testing its size like a firm melon. “Nope.”

  “You sure?”

  “Fuckin’ positive.”

  “All righty then.”

  “’Cause there’s no such thing as too big.”

  I blinked. “So, you’re a hind end kinda guy?”

  “Or too small,” he continued.

  I narrowed my eyes as he ducked through the door. “Is this a trick or somethin’?”

  “Not a trick,” he grinned. “A man who gives a shit about the size of a woman’s ass isn’t seein’ the woman. A real man cares about what’s on the inside, not the out. And when a man finds the right woman, their ass is perfect for him, no matter the size.”

  I was struck silent by his response and was positive if I hadn’t just seen my aunt and father loitering in Nate’s bar, I might have ripped off his clothes on the spot and licked his whole body. Instead, I kept my mouth shut and smiled like a good Wallflower should when met with dozens of seething Southern belles. Ones who’d spent time on their makeup and squeezed into uncomfortable clothes in the pursuit of our men.

  Served them right, the bimbos.

  Nate had led us to a table in the back, keeping me on his shoulder the entire way so everyone could see. I tilted my head back from where it rested when he stopped and got an up-close and personal look at Nate’s aunt. She was a stunning strawberry blonde with big bosoms she liked to put on display. She looked to be in her late forties, but so did Bernice and Eunice, and since this was Nate’s aunt, my guess could be off by ten years. Either way, she was beautiful. And had a wicked accent straight off the pages of a Highlander romance novel.

  “She’s a wee lass, nephew,” Nate’s Aunt Martine stated, grinning from ear to ear when he stopped suddenly at the back of the bar.

  Nate smiled down at her, then lowered me to the floor. My body slid against his in a way that gave me plenty of ideas. Ideas I actually wanted to explore. And the heat in Nate’s eyes, when I looked up at him in surprise, said he’d had the same idea.

  “She is wee, Martine. All three of them are. Wallflowers,” Nate said, beaming at his aunt, “meet my Aunt Martine.” We smiled brightly at the woman. “Martine, this is Poppy, Calla, and Sienna, three of the unluckiest women this side of the Mason-Dixon line.”

  Cali barked out a laugh at Nate’s description, and Sienna snorted. I tried, but failed, to rein in my biker babe princess DNA and ended up scowling at him with the heat of nuclear bomb. This was not how I wanted to be introduced to his family.

  Martine glanced at the Wallflowers and me, a smile tugging at her mouth; then she threw her head back and laughed, cackling, “No wonder you boys fell so hard for the wee lassies. They be real women these, praise Jesus. It’s about time you found one who’ll keep you on your toes.”

  “I like her,” Cali whispered instantly.

  “You would,” Devin said.

  “Why’s that?” I asked, even though I already did.

  “She’s nuttier than you three,” Nate explained.

  Martine rolled her eyes. “I’m a Scot, Nathaniel, that goes without sayin’.”

  Nate’s eyes warmed and he replied, “Aye,” in a loving tone. He clearly adored his aunt.

  “Careful now, I’ll make a Scot out of ye yet. Your swe
et mother may be Cherokee, but don’t forget you’ve got fiery Scot runnin’ through those veins. We come from a long line of warriors you and I, all the way back to William Wallace, God rest his soul.”

  “William Wallace?” I asked in wonder, looking at Nate. He was huge like the Highlanders of old, so I could totally see him being a descendant of the Scottish Resistance leader.

  “Don’t we also have a lineage that goes back to William the Conqueror?” Nate returned, his smile twitching as he waited for her response.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Martine sucked in a breath, clearly insulted, as he knew she would be. “We doona speak of that,” she hissed. “We’re Scots through and through. I refuse to accept there’s a drop of Norman blood runnin’ through these veins.”

  I looked at Cali and Sienna. We’d read enough historical romance to know the Norman invader, William the First, was hated by the Scottish because he forced their king to bow down to him, making William, the new King of England, their feudal overlord, and Scotland a vassal state of England. But that was then, and this was now, for goodness sake. She couldn’t possibly still hold a grudge.

  Nate grinned full-on and turned to Bo and Devin. “Like I said, she’s a nut.”

  Martine glared at Nate, then turned on her heel and stomped away. Clearly, bygones had not been let by the Scots.

  “She lives with your mother?” I asked giggling.

  “Yeah. She’s my father’s youngest sister. She was in a bad marriage until a few months ago and needed a clean break, so I offered her a job and handled the paperwork for her to come work for me. She moved in with my mother until she can get settled on her own.”

  I knew Nate was a good man, but that solidified it. He took care of everyone around him. With a burning fire in my belly, I decided right then and there I was going to take care of him. I wasn’t sure how, since he was so strong and able, but I’d figure out a way to take care of him and take care of him I would. I’d be a veritable girlfriend who handled everything he couldn’t so his life would be less stressful. I would take care of him, no ifs, ands, or buts. He’d been through enough in his life. I’d help him forget about his past by being his future. I just needed to figure out how to do that.

  The restaurant was still crowded, and a line had begun to form at the bar for takeout drinks. In Savannah, you could open carry alcohol in the historic district. Since the weather was humid pretty much year-round, there were always a line at most bars. Tonight, there was a line of skimpily clad women wanting a cold beer or frozen margarita to combat the heat, so Nate headed behind the counter to help fill orders while the rest of us sat down at the table to order dinner.

  As I watched Nate fill plastic cups from the tap, wondering how I’d gotten so lucky to have a man like that interested in me, a shadow passed in front of me and I looked up. It was my aunt and Knox. I narrowed my eyes at my father. If he were here to try and convince me Nate was a threat again, I’d . . . well, I wasn’t sure what I’d do, but it would be painful. I was sure of it.

  “Poppy, we need to talk, right this instant,” my aunt said, her voice brokering no argument.

  My brows pulled together as I puzzled over her tone. “I told you I needed a few days, Momma. I’ve had a rough twenty-four—”

  “—Poppy,” Knox interrupted me, but I noted his eyes were on Devin. “Can you come by my apartment tomorrow. Just you and your sister?”

  My aunt clamped her mouth shut with a snap, and I could have sworn she paled at his request. I looked between her and my father. “So you can try and convince me Nate is a threat?”

  My father’s jaw tightened response, but he shook his head. “We need to get past this animosity, baby girl. We’ve lost enough time.”

  “Whose fault was that?” I snipped.

  He didn’t hesitate to answer. “Mine. All of it. Whatever you blame me for, whatever you think I did wrong, you’re right. I can’t change the past, but we can try to move forward from here.”

  That admission stunned me. I’d hated him for so long, I didn’t know how to respond.

  “Please,” he begged, and it was laced with pain.

  Petunias!

  Someone grabbed my hand and I turned my head. Sienna was begging me with her eyes to say yes. I looked back at Knox and saw the same pleading look. Those brown eyes bored into me, and my resolve slipped. How many nights had I dreamt about having him in my life?

  “We’ll be there,” I answered on impulse, my desire to please Sienna overshadowing his betrayal. Geez, having a family was hard work. Shirley and I had a rhythm that worked and was effortless. We talked when we needed to, but most of the time never saw each other. I was used to being on my own. Never answering to anyone. But the sister thing added a whole new dimension of responsibility. One that said I couldn’t let her down. Ever.

  “Noon work? I’ll cook lunch,” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

  Dangit, I kind of thawed toward him at that moment. He was looking at me like he’d looked at Sienna that morning. It felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

  “Noon is fine,” Sienna rushed out before I changed my mind.

  My aunt started to open her mouth again, but my father took hold of her arm, smiled at me, then herded her toward the exit, whispering in her ear as they bobbed and weaved through the crowded bar.

  “What was that about?” Sienna asked, leaning in to whisper.

  “Who knows?” I wanted to say who cares, but I didn’t think that was true anymore.

  “What are you Googlin’?” Devin asked suspiciously. I turned my head and found Cali with her head buried in her phone. “Vacation rental companies on Tybee Island.”

  Devin raised a brow in curiosity. “There a reason you’re lookin’ at rentals when your family has their own?”

  Cali’s head popped up and she looked across the room at Bernice, who was sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of wine, and flirting with one of the bartenders. “Checkin’ the competition,” she lied.

  Sienna and I both smiled, but kept our mouths shut. She clearly didn’t want to ask Devin for help finding Joe for Bernice.

  “All right. I’ll let that lie slide if you explain how all three of you lost your phones?”

  Petunias!

  My eyes bugged out and I slid out of the booth, making a beeline for the bar to avoid humiliation. Nate had promised to protect me from danger. And right now, avoiding Devin and Bo when they found out I’d thrown the girls’ phones into the Savannah River, in an embarrassing fit, was paramount to my survival. Plus, I figured if I was going to take care of Nate, then no time like the present.

  I turned back and looked at the girls as I approached Nate and found Devin and Bo smiling at me. Whatever.

  Running up to the bar, I ducked behind it, grabbing a red Solo cup from a stack, ready to help. I avoided the eyes of Nate’s employees as they stared dumbfounded at me and walked up to Nate. He was filling an order of draft beer, not paying attention to his surroundings, but I didn’t miss the big boobed bimbo who’d leaned on the bar, so her assets were on show.

  “You’re hot,” the soon-to-be maimed woman said, reaching out to touch his hair. “If you want, you can throw me over your shoulder any time. Day or night.”

  I jerked my attention to Nate to gauge his reaction, ready to drop him to his knees if he so much as smiled at the good as dead bimbo. He’d pulled a baseball cap on backward to keep his hair out of the drinks, and coupled with the white T-shirt, jeans, and motorcycle boots he’d changed into while I was gone, he did look hot. Like a hot country boy. A hot country boy with longish hair any woman would want to touch. Including me. So I leaned forward and said, very politely, I might add, since I was considering bimbocide, “He is hot, but only I get to touch him.” I slapped my hand on his manly posterior and grinned. “Or ride on his shoulder,” I added.

  The woman’s eyes had grown wide as I spoke, revealing a lack comprehension of how much danger she was in.

  “Blink if you want t
o live.”

  She blinked, so I had to let her leave unharmed, dagnabit.

  Nate choked back a cough, so I turned and raised a brow. His eyes were gleaming with laughter. He had no clue how much danger his manly man parts had been in. One twitch of his lips at that hussy would have meant certain death by strangled twiddle diddles. “Appreciate the help, baby, but you can’t be behind the bar. You need a health permit.”

  Petunias!

  There goes me being a veritable girlfriend by helping out. First thing Monday I was finding out what it took to get a health permit.

  I looked at the crowd waiting on Nate. They were backed up ten deep and blocking the flow of traffic. He needed help, and I wanted to be the one who gave it. I turned and grabbed an order pad and pen by the register and headed for the crowd.

  This whole relationship thing was turning out to be a piece of cake, I decided. He gave me security—protection from humiliation—and I dealt with the maneaters trying to touch his hair. Easy peasy.

  “I need a head count. Who wants beer from the draft?”

  I had clowns to the left of me and jokers to the right, all staring like I’d grown horns on my head. “Beer?” I asked again, “From him,” I pointed at Nate. Half of the crowd, the hussy half, raised their hands with enthusiasm, so I counted and wrote it down. Then I moved them into a single file line on Nate’s left. “Who wants frozen margaritas?” I called out to the rest. Three sweet old ladies raised their hands. I wrote that down and moved them into a line on Nate’s right, where a bartender could take their orders, then turned to the two remaining women and waited.

  “We just want water.”

  Fist pump.

  I was worried it would be something difficult like soda, which required getting one of the bartender’s attention.

  I wrote that down because I didn’t trust waitstaff who never wrote anything down. Did they really remember when you said, “Hold the anchovies on garlic ice cream?” No. No, they did not.