Page 20 of Just Business

“Austin! I’m supposed to pay. That's what board means in room andboard."

“You took too long to find your card. No big deal. I wanted to pay,” I say, not looking up from where I’m loading the bags into the cart. No way in hell was I letting her pay.

As we pass a large trash can in the parking lot, Penny reaches into the cart and grabs all three bags of magazines and tosses them into the trash, wiping her hands. She doesn’t look at me, and I don’t acknowledge it, but I have to swallow down the lump that's forming in my throat.

Once we’re back at the house, we unload the groceries, and I go in behind her to help put them away. It’s oddly domestic, like we’ve done it a million times, considering we only met last night. I’ll have to put a pin in that thought to examine later.

When she tries to stifle a huge yawn, I figure I better get on back to my new room over the garage. I’m pretty beat, too. Today feels like we’ve crammed two days in one.

“Imma head back up there,” I hitch a thumb toward the apartment while gently scratching behind Honey’s ears. “All right if we get a late start tomorrow in the studio? I think I’ll make those calls to my family in the morning.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that. Since we’re using my studio band, we can’t do much till Monday. I’ve heard from them and they can all start then. I’ve sent the demos to them, and they’ll be available the entire two weeks.”

I’m disappointed that we won’t be recording together tomorrow, but I agree because she’s right. It doesn’t make sense to work on my music without the band.

Right as I’m heading to the door, a book on her kitchen table catches my eye. “Whatcha reading? It looks like those kids' books my aunt reads.” The cover is colorful with cartoon people on it.

She lets out a small snort as she laughs, quickly smacking her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I snorted,” she says through her fingers. Embarrassment tinges her ivory neck pink, but she’s still laughing.

A grin spreads across my lips. “You’re adorable.”

Walking over to her book, I pick it up, flipping through the pages. “But what’s funny about the book?”

“Austin,” she starts, trying to snatch the book from my hand, but I hold it higher where she can’t reach, “That’s not a kid’s book. It’s a romance, with—you know—spicy scenes. They put cartoons on the cover so we can read them in public and nobody will know what’s inside.”

My eyes widen at the page that I’ve flipped to. “Spicy scenes, you say?” I scan a few paragraphs and my mouth parts. I toss the book back on her table while mentally picturing my aunt’s bookcases full of similar cartoon-covered books.

Penny bites her lip, trying to hold back a laugh at my reaction.

“Well, alrighty then. Imma head out now.” My cheeks are flaming at the thought of my aunt reading whatever is written inside those books.

Right before I reach her back door, I spin around, and our eyes catch. Hers are a golden brown, a perfect match to my favorite whiskey, and I suck in a breath.

“Today’s been good for me. I want you to know that.”

“It’s been good for me, too,” A small smile spreads across those full lips of hers. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” She steps closer and sticks her hand out for me to shake.

This stubborn woman. Business, my ass. Instead of shaking her hand, I bring it to my lips and brush a light kiss across her knuckles.

“Oh, the pleasure’s been all mine, darlin’.” With one last wink because I just can't help myself, I turn and head toward the garage. Right before I reach the stairs, I steal a quick glance back. She’s standing right where I left her, looking down at her hand wearing a dazed expression.

Once I shower and brush my teeth, I climb into the bed-shaped cloud. Finally, I pull out the day’s events to examine them more closely. Penny and I talked all day and had a great time together, and I felt a bit like my old self for the first time in a long time. Absentmindedly, I rub circles on my chest because something I can’t quite name is growing right beneath my ribcage.

I’m not sure I could have predicted any of this if I’d tried. This is not what I expected. But so far, nothing has been in this little Alabama town.

Then, an even bigger realization hits me: not once today did I crave a drink. Not a single time.

My alarm hasn’t even gone off and I’m already wide awake drinking a cup of coffee with my legs propped on the coffee table. I’m well rested and my thoughts aren’t a blurry haze in my head. That magic mattress probably has something to do with it, but I also know it’s more about not waking up hungover.

Back when Cassie confronted me about my drinking, she told me that alcohol prevents a person from getting into a deep sleep, which meant I would always be exhausted as long as I was drinking heavily. On the days I woke up sober, my gut told me she was right, but it didn't stop me from picking up a drink the next time I was in a bad headspace.

Cassie chose to use our childhood to help others by getting a degree in counseling, while I chose to suppress mine and look where that’s gotten me. She used to constantly tell me I need therapy, and I know she’s right, but I’ve never wanted to take time away from my schedule to do it. I’m sure an even bigger part of me is scared to open up old wounds that have barely scabbed over.

She’ll be my first call today while I check in with my family. I shoot her a quick text first to make sure she’s available to talk.

You got some time to talk?

A few minutes pass, and I think she might ignore my text. She usually responds quickly unless she’s with a client. But after another minute, my phone buzzes.

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