Weather the Storm (Southern Roots Book 3) Page 5

  “Maybe we can all grab dinner?” I ask, hoping things line up to make it possible, hoping they get off in time and Myles and Cash don’t have any other plans.

  “I’ll ask Myla Rose and let you know.”

  “Sounds good, Goldilocks. See you soon either way.” I end the call and head to the house so I can ditch my dad’s old beater and meet Cash.

  To say I’m excited to have my truck back is an understatement of epic proportions. I worked hard and saved long to call that beast of a Ford mine, but being without it for a bit is better than being without Magnolia. That thought causes me to stop short, because, what the hell? As out of left field as it seems, deep down, I know it’s true. There’s just something about her that draws out every protective and possessive instinct I have, which is insane, seeing as we aren’t even dating.

  I stay lost in my thoughts until I arrive at the house and find Cash waiting for me in my driveway. I pull the beater around back and tarp it before making my way to his truck. I hear him click the locks as I approach. “Thanks again,” I say as I climb into the passenger seat.

  “Not a problem. Man, with how crazy everything has been lately, Myles and I were thinking maybe we could all hit up Azteca’s tonight.”

  “It’s like you read my mind—I was just telling Magnolia we should all grab dinner.”

  “Tell you what,” Cash says as he reverses down my long driveway, “let’s run to my mom’s and grab Brody, get your truck, and pick the girls up instead of meeting them.”

  “Can’t wait those extra ten minutes to see Myles?” I ask, teasing, but also not, because I bet it’s true.

  Cash shoots me a wicked grin. “Damn straight.”

  After a quick pit stop at his mom’s, we’re on our way to Mateo’s shop, Reyes Auto Repair and Restoration, with the sounds of Brody’s gurgles and giggles as the soundtrack of our drive.

  As Cash pulls into the parking lot, I take in the large, metal, six-bay garage. Four of the doors are up, and I can see his crew working hard inside. “Thanks for the ride, man. See you in a few,” I say before hopping down from his truck and heading toward the office end of the garage.

  “Simon!” Mateo calls out as I step in, his accent mild but noticeable.

  “She all good?” I ask, referring to my truck, though I don’t doubt his abilities in the slightest. When I first got my F-250, I brought it to Mateo, and he installed a four-inch lift kit, custom bumpers, a backup camera, and LED light bars.

  “Good as new, brother,” he assures me, tossing me the keys. “C’mon, let’s take a look.” I follow him through the door that leads into the work area, passing several vehicles in different states of repair until we reach the third bay, where my truck is sitting, looking pristine as hell. “Like I said, good as new.”

  I walk around the back of the truck, trailing my fingers over the new quarter panel and bumper. “Better than new, I’d say.” And I mean every damn word. Mateo is the best of the best, and once again, he’s outdone himself.

  “Now, you mentioned you’re not going through insurance?” he asks, sounding perplexed.

  “Ah, yeah. It’s a long story.”

  “A long story, huh? I bet I can sum it up in two words.”

  “Two words, huh?”

  “Sí: a woman.” I try to fight my smile, but Mateo sees it and just shakes his head. “Thought so. Okay then, I’ll bill you. I’ll even give you the hombre enamorado discount.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing. “In love? I think not.”

  “Gotta be close to drop three grand out of pocket instead of letting insurance sort it out,” he counters, and I clam up. Damn…is he right? Does he have a point?

  “No comment.”

  “Now, toss Arrón your keys, and he’ll bring your truck around front while we figure out your payments.”

  I do as Mateo says and trail behind him toward the front office. Once there, he whips out his handy-dandy calculator and begins running figures. “Okay, let’s do twenty-five percent today, and the rest over three months?”

  “Sounds fair,” I say, retrieving my card from my wallet.

  “Now, before you leave, tell me…how is Desi doing in class?”

  “She’s a good girl, but she’s got a mouth on her, man. I’m probably preaching to the choir there, huh?”

  “Takes after her mother that way, God rest her soul.” I don’t know much about Mateo’s late wife, other than the fact that he loved her something fierce and hasn’t ever quite moved on since her death.

  “Don’t worry so much. She’s a good kid, and you’re doing right by her.”

  Mateo nods his head, and I return the gesture before turning and heading out into the night.

  Arrón hops out of my truck just as I step out into the parking lot. “All yours, Simon. Have a good night.” I give him a wave and get into my beloved vehicle, taking the time to get my seat and mirrors just right before hauling ass to Southern Roots.

  Chapter Nine

  MAGNOLIA

  I’ve just finished my last color of the day—a beautiful, honey-blonde balayage—when Myla Rose flits over to my station. “All done?” she asks, even though she knows I am since my schedule lines up with hers this week.

  I don’t call her out on it, though—Lord, no. Instead, I smile and say, “Yup, all finished. Just let me know when you’re ready to head out.”

  Myla tucks her copper hair back behind her ears before shooting a dazzling smile my way. “Actually, Cash and I were thinking we could all grab dinner tonight. After all, it is Taco Tuesday. We used to go every week, but life got so busy there for a bit, and I just decided we need this. So, Sim will be here to get you soon. I’m riding with Cash.”

  “Oh, okay. Sure, that sounds fine. Simon mentioned something like that earlier.”

  “Did he now?” Myla asks. “Great minds think alike!” She opens her mouth as if to say something else, but her phone trills in her hand. Her eyes flit to the screen, and her already beaming smile ratchets up a few notches. “That’s my man. See you in a few!”

  I watch her practically float out of the salon, high on love, and can’t help the jealousy that claws at my soul. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for her and Cash, and for Azalea and Drake—hell, I’m happy for every single soul out there who has found their mate—I just can’t help but wonder where I went wrong, can’t help but wonder why happiness constantly eludes me.

  Before I’m able to sink too deep into my dark thoughts, the bells above the door chime and Simon calls out to me. “You about ready, Goldilocks?” I can’t help but blush at that silly nickname.

  Scooping my purse up from my chair, I walk toward him. “I am.”

  “See y’all in a few,” Seraphine calls from behind the front desk.

  We both wave and fall into step with one another, Simon wrapping his arm around my shoulders. The contact, while innocent enough, sends a flurry of emotion through me. My pulse speeds up, and my belly feels like it’s full of angry butterflies.

  When we reach his truck, Simon opens the passenger side door for me, but instead of taking my hand and offering support like he usually does, he plants a hand on each of my hips and backs me toward the open door. “Up you go,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my cheek. With a sure grasp, Simon lifts me into the seat. He watches me as I buckle mindlessly, and all I can think about is the feel of his hands on such an intimate part of me.

  His touch is so, so different from Grant’s. Where his burned painfully, Simon’s simmers, leaving me panting for more. I scold myself for even comparing the two as Simon walks around to his side of the vehicle. They’re nothing alike. Simon is pure and good and kind; Grant is a monster.

  “You like Tex-Mex?” Simon asks as we head toward our destination.

  “Love it,” I reply honestly.

  “Good. Get ready for the best you’ll ever have.” I know he means the food, but I can’t help thinking he’s the best I’ll never have, and that thought, couple
d with Grant lingering in my mind, leaves me feeling morose.

  The rest of our drive is spent in silence. I’m lost so deeply in my mind that it takes Simon three tries to get my attention when we arrive. “You okay?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

  “Sure, uh, yeah. Fine.”

  I go to unfasten my seat belt, but Simons stops me. “Are you sure? We can head home if you want.” He says it like it’s our home, and not just his house.

  Mentally, I shake myself out of the mood I’m in and give him my best smile. “Nothing some cheese dip can’t cure.” Judging from the look on his face, he’s not buying what I’m selling, but mercifully, he lets it go.

  “Hang tight and I’ll come help you down.” I start to protest but clamp my lips shut when I realize him helping me down means his hands will be on me once again. God, I’m so pathetic that the mere thought of Simon touching me in the most innocent of ways has me blushing and turned on. What is freaking wrong with me?

  Plus, if he knew just how broken I truly am, he’d steer well clear of me.

  Simon pulls my door open, and I pivot in my seat so my legs are dangling out of the door. Once again, his hands make contact with my hips, and I have to fight the full-body shiver that begs to roll through me.

  This time though, instead of just lowering me to the ground, Simon stands close and lets my body slide down his, all my soft passing over his hard. He keeps me caged there between him and the truck for a moment, but instead of fear—which is what I’d usually feel in a situation like this—I feel nothing but molten desire. I yearn for more…more of this, more of him.

  Before stepping back, Simon trails the tip of his nose from my temple to my jaw, inhaling me, robbing me of all my air. Sweet Jesus, that right there was more erotic than any other experience I’ve ever had, though I’m not sure if that speaks more to my lack of experience or just how off-the-charts sexy Simon is.

  Together, we walk side by side to the entrance of Azteca’s, our fingers brushing every so often until Simon finally grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it certainly feels like something’s changing between us—too bad I don’t know whether to run from it or toward it.

  Inside, we bypass the hostess station entirely and make a beeline for a large, round, wooden table in the back. As we weave through the other tables, I’m amazed by the beautiful décor, with its striking terra-cotta tile floors and walls in shades of red and purple and orange. It sounds garish, but altogether it has the feel of a sunset in Mexico.

  I expect Simon to release my hand as we approach our friends, but he doesn’t, and Lord, do they take notice. Both Drake and Cash raise their brows at him, and Myla Rose, Azalea, and Seraphine all unsuccessfully try to hide their smiles.

  “Well, hello, lovebirds,” Azalea calls out good-naturedly as she bounces Brody on her knee.

  “Mind your own business, brat,” Simon scolds her, but she just smiles. I’ve never seen, much less had friends like these, but I’m so thankful they adopted me into their group.

  “Magnolia is my business,” Seraphine pipes up.

  “How ya figure?” Simon asks.

  “Uh, family first, dude,” she retorts before pinning me with her dark gaze. “We’ll talk later, Mags.”

  Shaking my head at her, I try to convey that we have nothing to talk about, but she just keeps nodding slowly.

  Breaking the tension, Simon speaks up. “Y’all ordered?”

  “Just drinks and chips and dip,” Cash informs him just as our server comes by with a tray full of glasses and baskets of chips.

  “Miguel, my man!” Simon greets him warmly, as if they’re friends. “I’ll take a Del Sol and my usual. This pretty girl,” he says, gesturing to me, “will have…?”

  “A water with lemon and a bowl of tortilla soup.”

  “Muy bien, very good,” he says as he passes out the drinks our group had already ordered.

  After situating Brody in the highchair placed between Myla Rose and her, Azalea calls my name. When I give her my attention, she says, “That last color you did today was stunning. Like, girl.”

  Blushing, I smile and thank her, but she just keeps on, waxing poetic about my final client of the day.

  “For real, her hair looked like it was ready for a magazine shoot. It was flawless. How’d you get so good at hair?”

  “My, um, my mama worked in a salon growing up, and so did her mama. I’d go up there every day after school and sweep and shampoo, and as I got older, I started assisting her.”

  “Well, you’re a natural.” I bask in Azalea’s praise, because for the longest time, kind words were so few and far between that I almost forgot what it was like. Grant tended to want to point out my flaws. For him, nothing I did was ever right or good enough.

  I smile my thanks at her just as Miguel returns with everyone’s dishes. Immediately, everyone begins dishing up small portions of everyone else’s food, sharing as if this was an Italian family-style meal…and here I am with soup. Can’t really share soup.

  “I’ll share mine with you,” Simon whispers out the side of his mouth as he nudges me with his elbow.

  Silence descends upon the table as we eat—that is, until Brody lets out an ear-piercing wail. “Oh, someone’s cranky,” Myla Rose coos as she extracts him from the seat. Gingerly, she cuddles him to her chest, his head on her shoulder while she pats his bottom and whispers soothing words in his ear.

  My heart pangs in my chest at the sight of the mother and son, lamenting everything I’ve lost, everything I’ll never have again.

  I watch them, full of misery and regret, until Miguel swings by the table with our checks. He passes them out around the table, but when he goes to hand me mine, Simon snatches it before I can accept it.

  “I’ve got you, Goldilocks.”

  “Simon, you can’t,” I protest, but he waves me off and gives both tickets and his card to Miguel.

  “I can and I did.”

  “You didn’t have to, though.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. You deserve to be taken care of.” His words cause another blanket of silence to cover our table, everyone’s eyes damn near bugging out.

  “Timberrrr!” Cash hollers, causing laughter to overtake our group, and though I don’t get the joke, I find myself laughing along with them.

  I wait while Simon signs the credit card slip, and then as a group, we make our way to the exit, where hugs and handshakes ensue before we all go our separate ways—well, technically, Seraphine is the only one of us leaving alone, which is so strange. In the past, she and I would have left together.

  Simon and I go through the same torturous song and dance of him helping me into the truck again, and like last time, his touch gets bolder.

  I suppress a shudder as he draws the seat belt across my lap, his fingers grazing my thighs as he goes. When he draws his hands back, he intentionally drags his knuckles across my lower belly, causing me to suck in a harsh breath.

  “Simon…” I whisper his name into the darkness of his truck cab, and he groans in response before shutting my door and walking to his side. He pauses outside of his door, and I can’t help but wonder why.

  I don’t have to wonder long, though, because as I watch him, he very obviously reaches down and adjusts himself below the belt, making my cheeks burn crimson. The thought that him touching me turns him on is almost unfathomable.

  We make the short drive back to Simon’s in a companionable silence. The minute he parks in his driveway, I dart out of the truck, unable to handle the thought of him touching me again. His hands on me like that would be playing with fire, and I’m in no mood to be burned.

  As if he knows exactly what I’m doing as I scurry from the truck to the front door, Simon just smiles, his dimples popping so hard my knees go weak.

  “Wanna watch a show or something?” he asks as he enters in his code.

  Faking a long, drawn-out yawn, I beg off, claiming I’m exh
austed from my first day back at the salon, and Simon being Simon, he doesn’t call me on it. Nope, he just brings those kissable lips of his to my forehead, pressing them dead center, igniting me as he does.

  Once in the safety of my room, I strip out of my hair-dusted work clothes and into the shirt Simon gave me on my first night here before sliding beneath the covers. Thoughts of him, of his touch race through my mind, heating me from the inside out until I’m restless and rubbing my thighs together.

  Finally, when I can’t take the building pressure any longer, I bring his shirt to my nose and inhale before trailing my free hand down my belly, going lower and lower until I’m right where I need to be. I’m burning so, so hot for this man. Without even knowing or trying, he’s waking up a part of me that’s been dormant for so long, I forgot it even existed.

  Chapter Ten

  SIMON

  Touching Magnolia is the sweetest form of torture there is, and my God, judging from her reactions, she’d agree. I was looking forward to pulling her into my side on the couch, but she wasn’t feeling it, and I get that—today was a big day—but I’m in no mood to watch television alone. Trudging down the hall toward my room, I pause outside her door when I hear a small moan slip through.

  No. No way. No fucking way is she in there doing what I think she is. Like a damn pervert, I lurk outside her door and listen. I stand there, delighting in the sounds I hear spilling from her lips, wishing I could see her, could touch her.

  Disgusted with myself but unable to tear myself away, I listen as she brings herself to completion, and when my name topples from her lips as she does, it about brings me to my damn knees.

  More revved up than ever, I finish the painful journey back to my room, ready to follow Magnolia’s lead by taking things into my own two hands. Just like she did, I finish with her name falling from my mouth before drifting off to sleep, both sated and wanting more.

  The following morning, I wake with Magnolia on my mind, and judging from the tent in my boxers, she stayed on my mind all night. Anxious to see her pretty face, I rush through my morning routine, getting ready in record time.