Losing Me, Finding You(4)

“Yeah?” I ask as Mireya sighs and lights up, moving away from the scene of the crime and towards a pack of shirtless dudes that are hovering a little too close to her bike. She doesn't like to get involved in my altercations. Not to say that there are a lot, but I have been known to start some trouble. “Something wrong, gingersnap?” I ask the lady as she removes her hat and reveals a head of scruffy, orange curls. I'd have pegged her as Amy's mama, but there's no way these two are that closely related. Amy has that long, soft hair that's perfect for pullin'. When I see her glance up at me with a pained expression, I just want to reach out and wrap it around my fist, tug her to me and take those sexy lips between my teeth until she cries my name.

“Excuse me!” the old lady snorts as she waves the black can in my face. I don't flinch. These old Southern broads are tough as leather, and I am in no way ready to take on a lady whose blood runs with the fire of the sun and the earth, no ma'am. “But you need to keep your hands to yourself. If I see you touching my niece again, I might feel the need to call the sheriff and give him a piece of my mind. It's bad enough that we have to put up with your people year after year, but that doesn't give you the right to harass my family!” I take a deep breath and try to control my anger. If Old Lady Gingersnap had been a man, I'd have decked her. As things stand, she's a pretty old thing with firecracker eyes and a sharp tongue. A little respect can go a long way, provided it's applied in all the right places.

“You're right,” I say to her, although my eyes are all for Amy. I don't think she knows how hot she looks in that little sweater. If it were up to me, I'd tear it right off her shoulders, slam her against this wall and show her a real good time. Amy looks like she's in need of some fun. Her neck is stiff and her eyes dart every which way, so she doesn't have to look at me. She isn't scared. Oh no, not this little lovely. She's excited. I can practically smell her excitement, her curiosity. This is a girl that's been dying to get out for awhile, and it's just a matter of time until she snaps. Maybe I could help her along a little? “I had no right to touch Miss Amy here. If you'll accept my deepest apologies.” I reach out and grab Old Lady Gingersnap's hand, pressing it to my lips for a kiss. She blushes, but she doesn't spray me with her can which is a whole other sort of euphoric. There is nothing worse than getting sprayed in the face with that shit. “I'd like to make it up to poor Miss Amy by taking her out tonight.”

“I already gave you my answer,” Amy hisses as she drops her hand and takes a deep breath like she's preparing for trouble. Her blue eyes finally lock onto my face and hold my gaze without flinching. There's a whole lot more to sweet, little Amy than first meets the eye. She's telling me yes, but she's telling her auntie no. Smart girl. I'm not usually the type of guy that aunties approve of. They want to f*ck me, maybe, but they don't approve. Nuh uh. “Come on, Megan,” she says to her aunt who has finally tucked her pepper spray away with a sigh. “Let's go before Jodie has a fit.” Amy starts to turn away, but she keeps her eyes on mine until the last possible second. When she finally tears them away, I have an almost physical reaction to chase after her. How f*cking strange is that?

“First time I've seen you beat down by an old lady,” Mireya says as she returns as quickly as she left. I wouldn't say she's the jealous type, but maybe she can tell that I like Amy. A lot. And I have no clue why.

“Well,” I say as I pop a cigarette into my mouth and take Mireya into my arms. “You've never been up against an Old Gingersnap like that. You're from up North, so you have no idea what these Southern ladies are like.”

“Oh?” she asks as she leans in and kisses my neck. “And you don't think I'm a tough bitch? Why don't you let me prove it to you?” I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her head back, so I can get a good look at her. Oh yeah. Mireya is hot, no doubt about it. Why the f*ck then, am I thinking about Amy Cross when I start to kiss her?



Chapter 3

My aunt and I walk silently back to the bridal shop, pausing just outside the door so Megan can get herself under control. She's so angry that her face is as red as the prize tomatoes she grows in her front yard.

“Amy … ” she begins, and the sweat that's running down my back in little rivulets turns icy cold.

“Don't tell Mama,” I say, disgusted at the sound of my own voice. Don't tell Mama? I'm old enough to walk right through the doors of the only bar in town and order a drink with a dirty name. Why do I care what my mother thinks? The problem is, however, that I do. I do care.

Aunt Megan sighs and runs her hand through her red-orange curls. She seems more than just angry, almost … flustered? I blink at her and wonder if she's feeling the same tingle over her skin that I am. The man is a witch. I try to glance surreptitiously down the street, so I can catch another glimpse of him. Of Austin. He's nowhere to be seen. I try not to feel disappointed and focus back on my aunt who's adjusting her sun hat and pinching her tiny lips into a thin, straight line.

“There's a reason your father preaches against this event,” Aunt Megan says, and I try not to sigh with relief. I can tell by her muted tones that she isn't going to say a word to my mother. “Just remember, you were raised in God's house.” I nod, unsure as to what that statement has to do with the current situation and put a pretend smile on my face.