The corners of his mouth turn down. “I know, Daniella,” he sighs in exasperation. “You’re just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.” His voice sounds pained, and the words leave his lips before he has the chance to think them through.
Beautiful? She’s stunned silent and shocked he’s even breaching the memory of the last time they saw each other. It’s a bittersweet memory for her—equal parts perfect and painful.
“Thanks,” she whispers quietly once she regains the power of speech. “According to my aunt MaryLynn, I’m a disgrace to Southern women everywhere. Apparently, I need more makeup and should strongly reconsider doing something different with my hair,” she says jokingly in an attempt to take the edge off the painful tension that hovers above them.
His mouth crests into a small grin, amusement making his eyes turn a shade lighter. “Your aunt MaryLynn should strongly reconsider putting that pink lipstick into retirement,” he chuckles lightly. “And I like your hair. It suits you just fine, darlin’.” Penn’s fingers tug the end of her ponytail as he smiles down at her. He pulls her closer into his embrace as they continue to gently sway back and forth to the song. “Well you let me know when the lucky bastard comes around and I’ll be sure to step up to the plate and interrogate him for your brothers.”
Her body stills. Just when she thought he might be thinking of her in a new light, he has to say something like that. This man is always going to think of her as Bobby’s little sister.
Why can’t he see her as Daniella instead of little Danny Jo?
“Yeah, I think I’ll manage just fine without that thank you very much,” she mutters in annoyance as a thought crosses her mind in regards to Penn’s new business venture. “What are you doing these days?”
“I own my own business,” he responds curtly.
“What kind of business?” She already knows the answer to this question, but she wants to see if Penn will give a straight answer.
“I opened a club in Houston called Wild Nights.”
Yeah, that club is wild all right.
“What kind of club is it, Penn? I’d love to come see it sometime.”
“Wild Nights is not the kind of club a girl like you should be visiting,” he admonishes.
Girl. Her anger heightens to new levels. “Penn,” she voices with a vexed quality. “I know all about your club—your strip club. You don’t have to treat me like I’m innocent and naïve. Do I need to remind you that I’m not a little girl? You should know this better than anyone.” She throws in the last statement in an effort to make him remember. She assumes that night was easily forgotten by him. It’s probably been replaced by numerous women who pleasured him in ways she couldn’t ever dream of doing…
Amusement fills his blue eyes as his warm, strong chest vibrates from the slight chuckles that escape his throat. “Baby, I know you’re not innocent or naïve. I probably know this better than anyone in this room. And if you knew all about my strip club…why did you even ask?” He knows his words are laced with meaning and he remembers all right. He remembers every single detail of the night she spent wrapped up in his arms. How could he forget a night like that?
She shrugs her shoulders and contemplates giving him a snarky response but chooses to take the high road. Her cheek nestles against his chest as she tries her hardest to push the past out of her mind. She doesn’t have the energy or the strength to continue that conversation.
Her eyes go wide in shock when Penn presses a soft kiss to her forehead. His lips touching her skin cause her nerves to prickle. Her mind is fuzzy and her knees threaten to buckle. He beseeches the most intense emotions from Daniella’s body. Her brain strives to refute being insanely attracted to him, yet her traitorous body says otherwise.
A few moments of silence descend upon them, and she lets herself savor the feel of his strong embrace. She has the crazy desire to bottle this dance up and keep it forever. She would carry this moment with Penn around in her pocket for the rest of her life. It would be kept right beside the other moment she still subconsciously holds on to with an ironclad grip. No matter what she tries to tell herself, she’s been dreaming about being this close to Penn Wilder again. And now that she finally has her chance, this man doesn’t seem the least bit affected by her. It feels like he’ll always picture her as the little girl in pigtails and knee socks.
Five years ago, he made her blossom in the most beautifully vulnerable kind of way and then crushed her heart—all in the span of twenty-four hours. It’s a memory she’ll never forget, and the mere fact he still has that kind of control over her is disconcerting, downright unsettling to her very core.
The song ends and the DJ announces that the bride and groom will be cutting the cake in just a few minutes. The crowd on the dance floor disperses as Daniella reluctantly steps away from the undeniably handsome Southern man standing before her. The man who managed to make all of her dreams come true and fall apart at the seams. The very man she spent a lot of time wishing would see her differently. Why can’t he just ignore the age difference? Forget that she’s Bobby’s little sister and just see her for who she is and all she could give him.
And it’s all starting again…
Twenty minutes in his presence and she’s reverting back to her old ways. The ways that made her desperate and needy for any and all attention Penn was willing to give. This is the kind of mindset that got her heart broken, the type of thought process she can’t let happen again.
“Thanks for the dance.” He takes her hand and kisses the inside of her palm.
The feel of his lips touching her skin has her toes curling instantly. That tender gesture is her breaking point. Daniella decides that now is the best time to make her departure from this train wreck of a wedding. She’d much rather leave with her dignity still intact before she starts professing her undying love for him.
“It was really good to see you, Penn. I think I’m going to head out for the evening. Take care of yourself.” A tight smile is all she can give. Any other expression would just be too difficult, and her true emotions are too painful to reveal.
“Take care of yourself, darlin’,” he says softly and surprises her by pulling her in for a tight hug. His arms wrap around her waist, his hand presses into the small of her back, and she can feel his breath warming her neck.
He’s close—too close. A silent shudder racks through her body.
“You really do look beautiful tonight, Daniella,” he whispers tenderly in her ear.
She lifts her hand up, placing it gently on his cheek. Her eyes stare directly into his unrelenting and intoxicating gaze, which threatens to unravel the remaining thread of rationality. “Goodbye, Penn.” She kisses his cheek softly and then does what she should have done the moment he asked her to dance; she turns on her heels and strides away.
He is left on the dance floor, and all he can do is watch her walk away. He has the crazy urge to grab Daniella Pruitt and stop her from leaving…but he doesn’t. He watches her perfect form stroll away from him, and he can’t deny the heavy feeling weighing down his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
“Dance with me, Penn Wilder,” a soft, sugary-sweet Southern accent twangs in his direction.
He turns to find Loretta grinning wide at him, dressed in the most hideous dress he’s ever seen. “Hey, Loretta,” he greets without enthusiasm. She’s the last person he wanted to see here tonight.
If he were really honest with himself, he’d admit that he came to this wedding for one reason. He saw that reason, danced with that reason, and held that reason in his all-too-willing arms. For twenty minutes, he was the luckiest man in Cumbie.
“You’re not gonna leave a lady hangin’ are ya?” she asks with a flutter of her lashes.
“My momma raised me right, Loretta,” he responds as he holds his hand out to her before adding, “One dance and then I gotta get out of here.”
Penn refuses to let her think this is more than just a dance. Yeah, they dated in high school
and shared some good times, but that’s it. And Loretta is the type of Southern woman who would make something out of nothing. In her crazy mind, she could turn a simple dance into an agreement to spend the night together.
A girlish giggle leaves her bubble-gum-pink lips as she places her hand in his and presses her body flush against him. “I’m so glad you saved a dance for me, Penn. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. I tried to get in touch with you a couple of times when I heard you were back in Texas, but you never responded to my calls.” Her lips turn down at the edges, putting the most pathetic pout on display.
“Don’t take it personally. I’ve been real busy.”
His mind is elsewhere. His brain still savoring the twenty minutes he got to spend with Daniella. The mere thought of her feistiness has a smile forming across his lips.
God, that girl couldn’t be any more perfect if she tried.
Daniella says her goodbyes and grabs her purse from the now empty dining table. She steals one last glance at the man who still puts a hitch in her breath and sees that he’s already sidled up to a bridesmaid donned in peach taffeta, Loretta, Penn’s old high school sweetheart. She’s just as perfect as she used to be. Blond hair, petite figure, and enough cleavage to keep a man satisfied. Her heart pangs at the sight of them dancing close in comfortable companionship.
Before she manages to turn around and exit the reception hall, Penn’s sharp gaze locks with hers. She immediately feels vulnerable and exposed, her body shivering from the intense expression in his icy blues. A small smile covers his mouth. It’s a perfect smile, a delightful smile, the kind of smile that makes her feel like it’s reserved just for her. Daniella manages to smile back and lifts her hand in a small wave. Her eyes stay locked with his for another endless minute and then she gathers the strength to walk out of the reception doors.
In her mind, that’s probably the last time she’ll see Penn Wilder…
She holds the bill away from her body as if it’s about to catch fire any second. Her eyes shut closed immediately, refusing to look at the large sum of money she has to somehow make magically appear. Of course, she wasn’t eligible for financial assistance, seeing as her parent’s assets looked far too good on paper.
Two thousand, thirty-three dollars and twenty-nine cents.
The exact amount that’s due by the end of this month for half of her semester’s tuition at the University of Houston. She checks the calendar and realizes it’s already September 2nd. Twenty-eight days. She has less than a month to come up with over two grand. Shit! Blood drains from her face as panic starts to set in.
How will she come up with this money?
Daniella is hardly covering food and living expenses with the tips she earns from her parents’ diner. And her parents? They are barely making ends meet. After taking a huge hit when the economy went to hell in a hand basket, they’re still trying to fight their way out of the debt they’ve accumulated. There’s no way she can ask her momma and daddy for money. For one, she already knows they don’t have it. And two, if they find out she’s struggling, they’ll feel awful and guilty. Her heart couldn’t bear to put them through those emotions.
Asking her brothers would seem like the simple solution, but she refuses to take any of their hard-earned money. The last thing they should have to do is fund their little sister’s college education. Both of her brothers are far away from home, living their own lives. They’ve done really well for themselves, and the thought of asking them to wire money over to her bank account makes her cringe.
Obviously, her stubbornness far outweighs her desperation.
Daniella was fortunate after high school to obtain scholarships and student loans for most of her college expenses, but she knew her senior year was going to be difficult. This is the year that she would have to cover most of the costs and she’s not the least bit prepared. Her checking account has all of three hundred dollars in it. And her savings account? It’s not looking any better. She’s lucky if there’s fifty bucks in there.
What in the hell am I gonna do?
She has to find another solution.
Maybe she can get another part-time job on campus?
She’ll have to check the college newspaper to see if there are any listings. She’s not sure how she’ll manage pulling twenty credit hours, working another twenty hours at the diner, studying her ass off, and throwing in another job, but she doesn’t really have a choice. She checks the clock on the stove and sees that it’s already a quarter ‘til noon. Her next class is across campus at 12:15 p.m.
Today really isn’t my day.
She rushes into her bedroom and throws on a pair of leggings, a Led Zeppelin tank, and her most favorite, ridiculously worn-in black flip-flops. She checks her messy hair in the mirror and leaves it in a tangled bun. She doesn’t have time to dress up her appearance. Professor Wallace is a stickler for punctuality and the last thing she needs is to add him to her already long list of problems.
She practically runs out the door with her purse, keys, cell phone, prized Nikon D800, and textbook for Senior Photo/Digital Media. She’s a photography major. Expressing herself through pictures is her love, her life, the one thing Daniella is most passionate about. She can escape behind the lens of her camera and photograph the world through her eyes. It’s a powerful, heady feeling, and it gives her the ultimate rush.
Her parents aren’t exactly thrilled with her choice in major because they can’t really understand what she could do with a B.A. in Photography. She understands their reticence but refuses to spend her life doing something that doesn’t make her one hundred percent happy. That’s one thing she’s learned from watching her parents struggle, from watching Billy sign his life away to Uncle Sam, from watching the folks of Cumbie, live their boring, mundane lives. Daniella vowed to herself at the age of sixteen that she would never become one of them. She is determined to blaze her own trail, live her own life, and do exactly what makes her happy.
Sometimes she wonders if the choices she makes are based off the fact that she doesn’t want to be a small-town kind of girl. She pictures herself living in New York and working as a photojournalist for The New York Times.
A girl can dream…
And that’s exactly what she does. She dreams big. She’s set her sights on getting into a prestigious photojournalism graduate program like Berkeley or Boston. Daniella is hell-bent on accomplishing her goals. She plans on becoming the woman she wants to be, with a career she loves, while secretly laughing at all of those nosy, gossipy townies of Cumbie. She’s stubborn and well aware of this personality trait. If someone tells Daniella Pruitt she can’t do something, you can bet your momma’s pecan pie that she will do it and she will be the first to let you know she did it.
She strides through the parking lot of Cambridge Oaks Apartment Complex. This is where she lives with her roommates Eliza and Sarah. She met them during freshman orientation and they’ve been best friends ever since. Daniella adores her roommates. These girls accept her for who she is, and for that, she’s forever thankful.
Her life in Houston is worlds apart from the life she knew in Cumbie. Growing up in a small Texas town that prides itself on its beauty pageant circuit and high school football team is a tough pill to swallow for a girl like Daniella. She would rather hang out in an obscure coffee shop and listen to The Neighbourhood than be caught dead dressed in tulle and tiaras. And that’s why living close to campus and nearly thirty minutes from downtown Cumbie is a perfect living situation for her. She can keep her distance from her conservative southern family while still being close enough to help her momma and daddy out at the diner.
She walks as fast as her flip-flops will take her, heading straight for Wortham Theatre.
The first assignment of the semester is to help the theatre students with developing banners, pamphlets, playbills, and other promotional items for their big production of The Philadelphia Story. She is really excited and already has a vision in mind. Professor
Wallace informed the class that the students in the production will choose whose promotional items they want to use. Daniella is bound and determined to make sure hers are chosen.
Not only is she stubborn, but she’s also highly competitive. Her brothers used to tease her that she should have taken up basketball or soccer rather than ballet. For over fourteen years, she worked on her pointe technique. Two hours a day, six days a week she spent in front of the long mirror that lined Miss Clara’s ballet studio. She wanted to be the best and she refused to settle for anything else. That was until she reached the age of eighteen and decided that she was done with ballet. She didn’t love it as much as she loved photography, so she hung up her shoes and saved up enough money to purchase her first camera. And that was all she wrote. Daniella finally found the one thing she loves.
Her love for taking pictures has become a near obsession. Okay, it really is an obsession. She considers photography her boyfriend at this point in her life. Her roommates are on her ass all the time about her lack of social life, but she couldn’t care less. She’d rather spend her weekends perusing campus and people watching for perfect picture-capturing opportunities than attend frat parties and hang out at local bars.
Although, she could probably use a drink tonight.
Daniella decides to send Eliza and Sarah a text as she heads towards class.
Daniella: I’m up for drinks tonight. Papa’s Pub?
She glances at the time on her cell while she makes her way to a seat.
Two minutes to spare. Hell yeah!
Professor Wallace is already standing at the front of the auditorium, prepared to start his lecture the second the clock strikes 12:15 p.m. He’s the extreme of timely and punctual, to the point of mania. He may suffer from some form of OCD. He’s that preposterous about time and attendance. Despite the fact that he’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal in the sanity department, he’s a genius when it comes to photography, and Daniella highly respects his professional opinion. She’s hoping she can talk him into writing a letter of recommendation for her at the end of the semester. He’s the type of professor students are desperate to get on their side, and with his assistance, they can practically get into any graduate program in the country.
Southern Seduction Page 5