Blondie (Midland Springs Book 2)

by Joanne Ganci

  “Why, Maxwell Weston, it sure has been a long time!” Mrs. Lancaster says in her best southern belle tone. That is not a good sign. She may as well have blessed my heart and hammered the nail in my coffin. If mama bear isn’t on my side, I know it’s going to be a long road to getting back in the Lancaster’s good graces. Good thing I’ve got the truck gassed up, and I’m in for the long haul.

  “Hey, Mrs. Lancaster. It has. I hope to be seeing a lot more of y’all, though.” I extend my arm, pushing one of the bouquet I bought in her direction. “These are for you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Maxwell.” She gives me a genuine smile, giving me a little bit of hope. Her smile fades and a somber look washes over her face. “How are you and your mama doing?”

  “We’re taking things day by day, Ma’am. Thank you for asking.”

  “Of course. And boy, quit ma’amin’ me,” she winks and turns away. “I’ll just put these in some water. Make yourself at home.”

  Muttering a thanks, I make my way over to the couch, placing Lydia’s flowers on the cushion beside me. I don’t know how to feel after that exchange. On one hand she very politely seemed like she wanted me dead, but then she winked. She’s just as up and down as Lydia used to be. What am I talking about, used to?

  I hear a crash, followed by, “Shit. Fuck. Ow. NOPE, not today Satan,” coming from upstairs. With two loud bangs, that sounds like something being thrown against the wall, a chuckle bursts out of me. My laughter dies immediately when Lydia appears on the upstairs landing. My jaw drops, and as though there is a magnet pulling me toward her, my feet move of their own accord, bringing me to the base of the stairs. The strapless purple dress she’s wearing hugs her breasts, then hangs loosely, falling just above her knees. She looks like Tinkerbell’s naughty country cousin, with that dress and those black cowgirl boots. It’s not needed, but she has her eyes painted with this smoky design, making it so her blue eyes pop with this alluring sensuality that has my dick growing rapidly. “Hey there, Cowboy,” she greets, giving me a flirty wink when she makes it down to the bottom of the steps.

  I’m fucking speechless.

  Her blonde waves cascade down past her shoulders and I can’t help but want to run my fingers through them. She chuckles, probably at the fact that I can’t stop staring. There is no way I can do anything before I…

  My right hand goes to the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her hair to pull her closer. As soon as our lips meet, my left hand goes around to the small of her back. I’ve never needed her closer than I do in this moment. Our bodies flush, tongues tangling, and I want her closer still.

  Reluctantly, I stop kissing her sweet lips, but I can’t bring myself to draw away from her. With our foreheads pressed together, I tell her, “Sorry, not sorry. You are so fucking gorgeous.”

  “You don’t look too bad yourself.” She giggles, and it’s music to my ears. “We gonna stand here like this all night, or are you taking me out?”

  “As much as I’d like to stand here with you in my arms all night, I think I want to take you dancing just a little more.” Backing away from her, I move back over to the couch.

  “Well, then it’s a damn good thing I changed out of those ankle breakers.”

  Scooping up her flowers, and making my way back to her side, I ask, “Is that what all that racket was?”

  A light blush, flashes across her cheeks. “You heard that, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I chuckle and hold out the bouquet for her. “These are for you, gorgeous.”

  “You just got me flowers the other day. You didn’t have to get more.”

  “I definitely did. Brought some for your mama, too.”

  “Oh, I bet she loved that.”

  “I did. Here, I saw the second bouquet and filled the vase for you. Figured we could put yours out here. I already have mine in the kitchen,” Mrs. Lancaster says, coming into the living room.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Lydia says, handing her bouquet to her mother.

  “Well, what are y’all still doing here?”

  I laugh and hold out my hand, “You ready, Blondie?”

  I’m met with a beaming smile, “As I’ll ever be.”

  With her hand in mine, we say our goodbyes to Mrs. Lancaster, and head out on our second 1st date.

  Lydia

  24

  “Did I mention you look gorgeous?” Max asks, as he throws the truck in park outside of Gator’s.

  “Hmmm, I don't know. You might need to tell me a few more thousand times for it to sink in.”

  “Alright, smartass. You ready to shake what your mama gave you.”

  I open the door and let my booted feet hit the ground, as I slide out of his truck. “Always.” I look back over my shoulder to add, “You think you can keep up, Cowboy?”

  “I've never been able to keep up with you, Blondie. But I'll die trying,” he guffaws, coming around the front of the truck. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. “Dinner or dancing first?”

  “How about we order, then dance while we wait?”

  “I like the way your mind works.” He glances down at me, his gray eyes lit up, almost looking silver. I can't help but smile when he looks at me with that infectious grin.

  Looking around at the packed house, I already know there probably won't be any free tables. My eyes immediately scan the bar to see who's working tonight. Lucky for us, it's Pat. “Pat's working, let's just sit at the bar.”

  His eyebrow lifts, and he stands up a little taller. “Who's Pat?”

  Rolling my eyes, I walk ahead of him and take a seat on one of the empty stools, smack dab in the middle of the bar. “Patrick! My most favorite bartender, you remember Max?” Pat's bright smile fades as soon as I mention Max. I don't think they ever knew each other, but Pat being the sweetheart he is, always pays attention and knows damn well who Max is.

  “Can't say we ever met,” Pat says stoically.

  “I don't think we have. This an ex of yours, Blondie?”

  I throw my head back in laughter. “Ouch, Lyd. Is dating me really that comical?” Pat asks, his hand clasped to his chest, mock wounded.

  “Not that I need any more, but you're practically like a brother to me.”

  “Same horse, different cart, darlin'. Though I've got you beat with my four sisters.”

  “Oh, you poor soul,” I quip. “How are they doin’? Last I heard, Meg just had another baby. Almost sounds like she's trying to beat your mama.”

  “She did. And you're not wrong. Knowing her, she probably has turned it into a competition in her mind. Everyone is doin' good.” Even ragging on his sister, his face is lit up with such a bright smile. That boy is going to make some woman so damn happy one day. “Whiskey?”

  “Not tonight, Pat. I'll have a beer and whatever burger you got on special.”

  “With extra bacon, got it. How about you man?”

  We both look over at Max, who still has a slight scowl marring his gorgeous face. “I'll have the same,” he mutters. Pat knocks on the bar and heads off to put our food order in and fetch our drinks.

  While Max watches Pat like a hawk, I take my time looking him over. The tight gray jeans and blue flannel he has on send a shiver down my spine. Between how he looks and the possessive spike of jealously, I can feel my panties getting wet already. It should probably piss me off that he's acting like a caveman, but even after everything that happened between us, it just turns me on. I lean over and take his chin in my hand, tilting his head my way to look in his eyes. He blinks rapidly, his features softening as he gazes back at me. “What are you doing, Blondie?”

  “Just checking to see if your eyes were green.”

  “You really don't...oh. Yeah. I'm sorry, I shouldn't—”

  Placing my boot on the bottom rung of his stool, I lean up and press a small kiss to the corner of his lips. “Save it. I ain't mad.”

  “Oh really?”

  Dropping my hand from his chin, I give Pat a nod as he pla
ces our drinks down before rushing over to the other side of the bar. I take a drag, before answering Max. “I should be, but no. I kinda always liked when you would get all grrr, my woman,” I mock.

  He chuckles, “Good to know.”

  “Now, don't think that's an invitation for you to be a jackass all the time. Plus, it was pretty hilarious that you thought I dated Pat. You really don't remember him at all?”

  “After you had mentioned his sister, it clicked a little. I don't think we ever actually met, but it's Midland. I've seen him around. I know you're not mad, but I really am sorry. I have no right to get jealous.”

  “Thank you for apologizing.” I watch as he brings his bottle up to his lips and takes a long pull. Why is it so hot seeing his adams apple bob like that?

  “See something you like, Blondie,” Max chuckles, putting his beer back down on the bar, side-eyeing me.

  “Maybe,” I tell him, suggestively. Downing my beer, I slam the bottle down on the bar. “I thought you were taking me dancing?” I hop off the stool and turn around, letting the skirt of my dress swish around my thighs. Walking over toward the dance floor, I add a little extra sway in my hips. I hear his bottle slam down on the bar when I’m only steps away and feel his hands on my hips and the heat of his body pressed against my back by the time I make it to the floor.

  We sway together to the song, his arms coming around me. Unbidden, my hands move over his, as my hips ground out in tune to the beat. I can feel his length hardening, with him pressed into me like this. He grabs my hand and twirls me out. When he draws me back in, we pick up our swaying like nothing changed, but this time I’m facing him and the sudden movement gave me this heady feeling I definitely didn’t have moments ago. The heat of his right hand brands me, as it rests at the top of my ass.

  God, this man can move.

  The song shifts, and he somehow manages to pull me closer, changing our pace to match the slower song. I let my head fall onto his chest, so I can listen to the thump thump thump of his heart. Instead of slowing down, like it should with the slowing of our movements, it seems to pick up. He leans his head down until his lips graze my ear, “Havin’ you in my arms again is...fuck. I’ve missed you, Lydia.”

  The mixture of lust and longing coming from that deep baritone whisper has me clenching my thighs together. I turn my face into his chest, hoping he won’t hear the whimper I let out. I hate how easy everything is with him. How can I just slip back under his spell, like there isn’t a 9-year gap separating us? I push back off of him. “We should, uh, go check on our food.” I walk off, not waiting for him to answer.

  He snags me by the arm, turning me around, “Blondie, what’s wrong?”

  I look up into his eyes, and feel myself getting pulled in, instantly. Averting my gaze, I tell him, “Nothing. Just hungry.” Slipping from his hold on my arm, I take my seat at the bar. Luckily our food is waiting for us when I get there.

  I search everywhere for Pat, I might need that whiskey after all.

  My eyes connect with turquoise ones, and I can feel my shoulders relax. In an instant Pat is standing in front of us, glaring at Max. “Everything alright here?” he practically growls out.

  “We’re fine,” Max barks.

  “Actually, could I get that whiskey, Pat?” I can feel Max’s eyes drilling a hole in the side of my head. I turn my head in his direction and glare at him. “What? I didn’t drive. I can have a damn glass of whiskey.” He raises his hands in a placating gesture, and I turn back over to Pat to see him smirking.

  “Oh, don’t look so satisfied. Everything is fine. I just want a fucking whiskey,” I snap.

  “Yeah, okay. Sure thing, Lyd. I’ll just…” he trails off, rushing over to get my drink.

  Damn, dial it back there, crazypants. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, reopening them when I hear the clang of a tumbler hitting the bar. Shooting Pat an apologetic and grateful smile, I wrap my fingers around the glass and lift it to my lips. The amber liquid cascades down my throat, hitting me with that initial burn. As it settles and soothes my soul, I feel myself begin to relax.

  Max clears his throat beside me. “Sorry I drove you to drink. I know it’s been a while, but I didn’t think I was that bad of a date.”

  “Oh, please,” I snort. “I know damn well you were just dating that...that—”

  “Publicity stunt. Assuming you’re talking about Kelly. We’re good friends, but we’ve never had anything romantic between us.”

  “What?!”

  “I haven’t been out with anybody in years, Lydia. I’m not gonna lie and say I was celibate, but I haven’t been on a date in...six or seven years? And before that there really weren’t that many.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs, “I figured there wasn’t much of a point.”

  “Right, because you could just get one of the groupies to—”

  “No. Groupies are ONLY for sex. And I didn’t mess around with them. I saw how bad it can get for people if they do. Most people fall prey the first year or so they get into the business, but I didn’t want to touch anyone back then. Well…”

  “Why are you feeding me this bullshit?”

  “You don’t have to believe me, but have I ever lied to you?” He looks me square in the eye, and all I see is sincerity in those beautiful gray eyes of his.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, no longer able to take staring into his and shake my head. “No. There were some serious communication issues at the end, but you’ve never lied to me.”

  “I’ve kinda lost my appetite,” he grumbles.

  “Yeah. Why don’t we just get some boxes and head out of here?”

  “If that’s what you want,” he says, looking defeated. He calls over Macey, the other bartender, asking her for the check, some boxes and a bag. We wait there silently, the tension between us suffocating.

  After our food is packed up and the check is paid, he stands, waiting for me to rise out of my seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand reach over near the small of my back, but before he reaches me he draws it back, running his hand through his dark hair. Dammit. I have my doubts, but I didn’t mean to ruin our date. Outside of the bar, he moves to open my door, but I reach up and stop him with my hand on his. “I’m sorry, Max.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about, Blondie.” His lips lift into a small smile, but I can see the sadness in his eyes.

  I pull my hand back, bringing my arms around myself. “Don’t give up on us, yet. I...I don’t want you to. I just...I think I might need more time.”

  He lifts his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, he pushes some hair behind my ear, and caresses my cheek. “I don’t think I could ever fully give up on us, Blondie.”

  Max

  25

  “That’s the last crate, boss,” Randy says, putting down the crate full of preserves Mama made. I thank him and check that off of my list. “You sure you don’t want any help setting up?”

  “Nah, man. I got a system going. I appreciate the help unloading the truck, though.”

  “Of course. I’ll be back around closing time to help you load up and get the truck back to the farm. Jesse should be here to help you run the booth before long.”

  “Thanks, man,” I tell him, shaking his hand. “Enjoy the day with your family.”

  “Always. Celia has a show she’s going to be putting on as soon as I get home. Gotta stop at Maybell’s to pick up some flowers for my little girl.”

  “Tell her I can’t wait to see her first big concert.”

  “I will, she’ll love that. Especially coming from Maxwell Weston,” he says in a girlish voice, holding his clasped hands beneath his chin, and batting his eyelashes. I throw my head back laughing at his imitation of his daughter and wave in the direction he takes off laughing in.

  With everything checked in, I set up the display on the table. Satisfied that the connections and temps on the refrigerators and generator are just right, I take a seat and wait for the o
nslaught of customers. The farmer’s market is always busy, but I enjoy every fast-paced second of it. I know how much Dad loved working the booth, and it makes me feel just a little bit closer to him when I’m doing it.

  Hopefully, we’ll be busy enough that I won’t have the chance to dwell on the fact that my date last night went terribly wrong. Everything was going great, then I just had to get wrapped up in the moment and open my big fat mouth. It’s so hard to force myself to hold back, when all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and drift off into the sunset anytime I’m around her. God, I sound so ridiculous. I need to put my fucking big boy pants on and get over myself. If I want any chance of winning her heart, I need to dial it back a notch or 10,000. A shove to my shoulder brings me out of my melodramatic thoughts, and I look over to see Jesse grinning at me. “What was that for?”

  “That,” he shoves me again, “was because I’ve been standing here trying to talk to you for several minutes. When I realized you weren’t listening, I look over and see that you were making these weird facial expression ranging from pissed off to wistful. What you daydreamin’ about, pretty boy?”

  “Who you callin’ pretty boy, Jesse ‘gets all the boys’ Forrester?”

  He leans against the back of the chair next to me. “The fact that I’m ridiculously attractive and great in bed doesn’t mean you’re not a pretty boy, Maxwell Weston.”

  “I take pity on every guy that has ever gotten into your bed.”