Weather the Storm (Southern Roots Book 3)

by LK Farlow

  Flinging my bedroom door open, I rush toward the kitchen, stopping short when I realize I’m acting insane. Be cool, Simon. Be. Cool. Slightly calmer, I resume walking, only to be met with silence. There’s no Magnolia.

  Damn, I didn’t realize until now how much I’d gotten used to seeing her every morning.

  Deflated, I grab the cutting board from the drawer and a knife from the butcher block then begin slicing some fresh berries to mix into my Greek yogurt along with some granola.

  I’m in the middle of spooning some yogurt into a bowl to set aside for Magnolia when she pads into the kitchen, slow and sleepy. “Good mornin’, beautiful.”

  She offers me a lazy smile and walks over to stand next to me—right freaking next to me, so close I can smell her. It’s jasmine and lavender, like a midnight walk through a garden…fucking intoxicating.

  “I overslept.” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back, her perky breasts straining toward me and the hem of her shirt—my shirt—rising to a dangerous height, exposing the skin of her gorgeous thighs. “It’s been a long time since I’ve slept that well.”

  I can’t decide if I’m imagining things or if she’s implying she slept well thanks to her bedtime self-love session, the one starring me. Yeah, I’m going with that. While it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I’m glad I could help, I bite that thought down.

  Instead, I reach forward and brush a piece of wayward hair out of her face. “No worries. I have some fruit and yogurt, may even have some granola.”

  “Oh, that sounds delicious. Thank you.”

  “Anything for you,” I say, shocked by just how much I mean it. “You got a busy day at the salon today?”

  She nods, finishing her spoonful of yogurt. “I do. You wouldn’t think missing a week would make me this busy playing catch-up, but I had a few clients who didn’t want to see anyone else.”

  “Makes sense. From what I’ve heard and seen, you’re very skilled at what you do.” Magnolia all but glows at my compliment, and my chest swells with pride, knowing I put that look on her face.

  “You’re so sweet to me, Simon.”

  I’m about to reply when the time on the microwave display catches my attention. “Holy—I’m gonna be late. I gotta run, Mags.”

  “It’s okay. You go, I’ll clean up,” she assures me before turning to face me so I can drop my customary kiss to her forehead, except this time, I go for her cheek, right below her eye.

  Licking my lips, I savor the taste of her skin as I dash to my truck. I skid into my parking spot in the faculty lot with one minute to spare. By the time I make it to my classroom, the warning bell is ringing, and some of my students are already seated at their desks.

  §

  Thursday was much of the same—lots of not-so-innocent innocent touches and lingering looks—but today somehow feels different. Maybe it’s because I know what’s coming this evening. Then again, it could be something else entirely.

  Magnolia and I have been dancing around our attraction to each other so well, we may as well be competitive ballroom dancers, but it’s all good. I can sense she needs more time, and I’m willing to wait as long as she needs. She’s more than worth it.

  I glance up at the clock hanging over my classroom door and see that we’re five minutes to the last bell. “That’s it for today, world historians. Leave your tests on your desks—they will be graded over the weekend. Pack up your bags and stay out of trouble between now and Monday.”

  I remain seated as the bell rings and my students file out of the classroom. Standing, I walk the aisles of desks and gather their exams, placing them into my fourth block folder and tucking it into my bag along with the rest of my grading.

  Excited and nervous for what’s to come, I hurry to my truck. From inside the cab, I text Seraphine to make sure Magnolia’s ready for me to pick her up, even if she doesn’t know she’s ready.

  Simon: Everything all good?

  Seraphine: Right as rain. She’s sweeping up. Doesn’t suspect a thing.

  Simon: Perfect. Be there in five.

  Satisfied with Seraphine’s reply, I shift my truck into gear and head toward Southern Roots. While the drive is short, my mind races with all the different ways Magnolia may react to what I have planned for this afternoon. If all goes well, she’ll be elated. If not…yeah, let’s not even go there.

  I guide my truck into an open spot right in front and saunter inside. Immediately, my eyes find Magnolia chatting with Seraphine near the front desk, looking like a damn vision in her slim-fitting black jeans that hug the curve of her ass just right, and don’t even get me started on the black and white buffalo check button-down she’s wearing, the top few buttons undone and showing off just enough cleavage to get my mouth watering.

  She looks up, her eyes catching mine. Her cheeks blossom with heat when she notices the way I’m eating her up with my gaze, but all the same, she greets me cheerfully. “Simon! What’re you doing here?”

  “Came to get you.”

  “What? No, I still have—”

  “Nope,” Seraphine cuts her off. “You don’t. You’re all done for the day. Have fun!”

  “Have fun doing what?” Magnolia asks, sounding perplexed as I guide her out the door.

  The question is, do I tell her now or surprise her?

  “Just wait and see.” I open the passenger door.

  “You know I can get in myself, right?” she asks when I grip her hips.

  Slowly, I slide my hands from her hips to her waist before snaking them around her and pulling her into me. “Sure do.”

  She tilts her face up to mine, and the same desire I’m feeling is reflected back at me in her pool-blue eyes. I lean down slowly, giving her time to pull away from me, and press my lips against hers. She hums, deep in her throat, and I take that as an invitation to continue.

  I draw my tongue along her bottom lip, begging her to open for me, and she does. Our kiss is soft and slow but so fucking full of passion. Surprising both of us, Magnolia nibbles at my lower lip before pulling me even closer. We’re lined up and touching in every way. I know she can feel my want for her, and I know she likes it with how her hips keep pressing into mine.

  “Slow down, Goldilocks,” I murmur against her lips, pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction to this development between us.

  When she speaks, her voice is breathless, and I love it. “S-sorry, Simon. Guess I g-got a little carried away.”

  Despite her earlier protest, I lift her into the truck and watch as she secures her safety belt. “Nah, you were perfect.”

  Magnolia doesn’t ask where we’re going again, but when I turn into the dealership’s parking lot, her eyes light up.

  “Wh-what are we doing h-here?”

  “Gettin’ you a safe, reliable car.”

  “Simon, I…I don’t have the money for something like this. I thought…I thought we would buy something from a salvage lot or—”

  I silence her with a kiss. “Stop worrying and trust me.” When she doesn’t budge, I shoot her the kind of puppy dog eyes my students use when asking for a due date extension. “Please?”

  Finally, after several tense moments, she nods and gets out of the truck. I rush around to meet her. “Now, I’ve been doing a lot of research on cars lately, and the top safety picks are Chevy Malibu, Ford Fusion, and Honda Civic. Do you prefer one over the others?” She turns and looks at me like I’m crazy. “What?” I ask her.

  “Simon, I’ll be over the moon with just about anything.”

  “Good, then let’s go look at some cars.”

  We don’t even make it within two feet of the door before a salesman approaches us. “Hello and welcome! My name’s Stuart. What are you folks lookin’ for on this lovely Friday?”

  Magnolia looks from him to me, letting me take the lead. “I’m Simon,” I say as I smile, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “This is Magnolia, and we’re looking for something safe with good fuel efficien
cy, and lower mileage would be preferable.”

  “Wonderful, so nice to meet y’all. Do y’all have a specific budget in mind? How about a down payment or…”

  Magnolia starts to shake her head no, but I speak up. “Sure do.”

  Stuart and I discuss the numbers while Magnolia watches on, looking apprehensive and maybe even a little mad. Worried, I ask Stuart if he’ll give us a few minutes to talk while he brings around the first car for her to test-drive.

  “What’s wrong, Goldilocks?” I ask, taking a piece of her hair between my thumb and forefinger.

  “S-Simon, I know you mean well, but I can’t afford a car this nice.”

  “You can.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I lay my finger on her lips, silently shushing her. “Think about it: living with me, you have no rent payment.”

  “That’s another thing! I have to pay you something.”

  “The house is mortgage-free. Dad paid it off a year or so before he passed away.”

  “Well, what about other bills?”

  “Seeing as how you cook just about every meal we eat, and more than once I’ve caught you cleaning up after me and doing my laundry, I’d say you paying a third of the utilities would be fair. That has to be less than you were paying in rent, even in that dump.”

  “Are…are you sure?”

  “Positive. So, that leaves your cell phone bill, and we will make sure your car note is affordable. As for your insurance, you already pay it on your other car, and I’m sure a newer one won’t be that much more. Only other thing I can think of is your bill from the hospital, but they have payment plans, too. You’re gonna be just fine, pretty girl.”

  §

  MAGNOLIA

  Don’t ask me why, but for some reason when Simon tells me I’m gonna be just fine, I believe him. His words settle me, and just in time, too, because Stuart is back with a cute little 2013 Honda Civic.

  We listen as Stuart highlights several features before tossing the keys to Simon. I slide into the back seat, allowing our salesman to ride shotgun while Simon takes us on the pre-marked test-drive route.

  He handles the car expertly, testing the acceleration as well as the brakes, along with various other things I’d have never thought of. Sometimes I wonder if he’s real. Maybe he’s an angel or something, because my God, he is good to me, and I’m so undeserving.

  Back at the dealership, Simon pops the hood and inspects the engine while rapidly firing question after question at Stuart. When he’s satisfied with his inspection, he pulls me to the side. “Whatcha think?”

  “I think if we can work out the payments, it’s perfect. What do you think?”

  “Great minds, Goldilocks. Great minds. Let’s go talk figures with Sir Stuart.” I laugh at his silly mood and follow him over to where the salesman is waiting.

  “So, what are you folks thinkin’?”

  “Well, Stuart,” Simon begins, “that all depends on you.”

  Together, we walk into the dealership, and Stuart guides us to a small round table with four chairs. I listen intently as he and Simon discuss the details. Twice our salesman runs off to chat with his manager before we finally settle on a price. It’s a tad more than I was hoping for, but I know I can swing it, thanks to Simon.

  We leave the dealership hand in hand, my free hand clutching the keys to my new car. “You think you can safely follow me home?” Simon asks, playful but serious all at once.

  Biting my lip, I give him a half smile. “If you go really slow.” He shakes his head at me, but all the same, I follow behind him at a snail’s pace until we safely make it back to his house.

  Inside, I hang my keys next to his on his key rack, and I feel giddy at the thought. We both collapse onto his couch, where Simon pulls me closer and wraps me in his strong arms.

  “I don’t know how to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me—everything you’re doing.”

  “You just being you—being here—is thanks enough.” We lapse into a comfortable silence while Simon plays with my hair, until finally the grumble of my belly prompts him to ask me what I want for dinner.

  “I was thinkin’ I could make us some potato and sausage soup. It’s quick and yummy.”

  “Sounds just right, Goldilocks, and while we eat, we can talk about you learnin’ to drive.”

  Chapter Eleven

  MAGNOLIA

  The following morning, I wake to Simon knocking on my bedroom door. “Come in,” I mumble, burrowing down deeper into the fluffy covers.

  “Look at you, sleepyhead. Time to get up.”

  “Why?” I pull the comforter down just enough to peek at him. “Seraphine gave me the day off.”

  “Yup,” Simon replies. “So I could teach you to drive.”

  Groaning, I sink back under the covers so only my hair is visible. I feel the mattress dip, alerting me to the fact that Simon is now in bed with me.

  Oh my God, Simon is in bed with me.

  Suddenly, my libido is raging, and all I can think about is all the things we could do in this bed, which is so unlike me. Like I said, Simon McAllister is waking up a side of me I never knew existed.

  He tugs the covers down before flinging them to the floor, leaving me in nothing but that shirt of his. I gasp as the cool air meets my skin, and Simon stares, speechless. He feasts on the sight of my exposed legs, slowly dragging his gaze from my pink-polished toes to my thighs, where his eyes linger.

  His slow perusal has me feeling like the temperature in the room is rising. I try my best not to squirm under his scrutiny but fail. “It’s…impolite to st-stare.”

  Simon all but growls, “The things I’m thinkin’ aren’t very polite, so I guess that’s fitting, huh?”

  His words draw a whimper from me, but not one of fear. No, sir, this is desire, pure and simple. “Simon,” I whisper, and he dives for my lips.

  He kisses me thoroughly, morning breath be damned. He kisses me like a man starved for a year then presented with his favorite meal. He devours me wholly, and my God, being devoured feels so, so good.

  After what seems like hours, Simon breaks our kiss, always stopping us before we get out of control. “Shower. Dress. Meet me in the kitchen in twenty.”

  Not wanting to stop but knowing it’s for the best, I agree and scurry from the bed to the bathroom. As alluring as it is to attempt to quench the need Simon has lit in me, I don’t, fearing he’ll know something’s up if I take longer than usual to get ready.

  Dressed casually in a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, I amble into the living room and find Simon waiting on the couch. “Ready?” I ask him.

  “Born ready. The question is, are you ready?”

  Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I give him a hesitant nod.

  Simon springs up from the couch and snags my keys from the hook as he breezes past me. “Then what’re you waitin’ for? Let’s go!”

  I follow behind him, beelining toward the passenger side of my Civic.

  “Where’re you going? Can’t learn to drive if you’re not behind the wheel, Goldilocks.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Figured you’d show me first.”

  “Nope, gotta do to learn. Hop in.”

  Our fingers brush as we pass one another and he hands me the keys. My hands tremble slightly as I slide into the driver’s seat and begin adjusting the position of the seat and the mirrors.

  Simon watches with a slight smirk as I move the seat up a smidge and then back, up and then back, before finally settling on the same spot I started in.

  I repeat the process with the mirrors—in then out, up then down. Finally satisfied, I insert the key into the ignition and turn…only, I turn for too long, and the engine makes this awful choking sound.

  Tears burn, threatening to spill over. “I’m hopeless.”

  “No, you’re not. Try again, and as soon as you hear the engine turn over, let go.” Simon’s voice is low and calm, so soothing.

  I try again, d
oing as he said, and sure enough, the engine cranks.

  “Now, check your mirrors and put the car into reverse.”

  Once again, I follow his instructions, checking both my side and rearview mirrors before shifting into reverse. We sit there for several quiet moments with the car in gear and my foot stamped down on the brake.

  “You gonna go?” Simon teases.

  “Mmhmm. Just nervous.”

  “Don’t be nervous. Ease off the brake.” I do as he says and look to him for guidance, startling slightly as the car begins to creep backward. “Using your toes, lightly tap the gas pedal.”

  I shift my foot from the brake to the gas and tap, sending the car lurching. “Lightly tap! Lightly!” Simon hollers, and I slam on the brakes, the sudden change in momentum sending us reeling forward. My breaths are coming rapidly, and Simon reaches over to throw the car into park. “Magnolia,” he murmurs, saying it in such a way that my galloping heart begins to settle. “Who taught you to drive?”

  I drop my eyes to my lap, focusing on the little pills of lint so I don’t have to meet his stare. “No one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I…oh my God, this is…” I pause, trying to gather the courage to explain this mess to Simon.

  He grips my chin and pulls my gaze from my lap to meet his. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about with me, not ever.”

  Feeling emboldened by his words, I power through the story. “Like I said the other night, my mama had a hair salon growing up, and she stayed so busy, she couldn’t keep up. So, she asked me to drop out the second half of my sophomore year and apprentice under her. The salon was attached to the house, and any time we went anywhere, she drove. So, even though I got my license, I hardly got behind the wheel.”

  “Right, but that was when you were a teenager. What about…” Simon pauses, trying to choose his words carefully. “Why haven’t you learned since?”

  I take my time finding the right words, debating with myself on how much to share. Finally, I decide to bare my soul, because Simon’s been nothing less than transparent with me.