Page 41 of Small Town Firsts

Bringing me face-to-face with Cash. Neither of us speaks. He stares down at me, and I stare up at him, my thoughts going a thousand miles a minute.Why is he here? Why was he at my house? Why is he looking at me like that?

After a few moments, the Southern manners my Grams taught me kick in. “H–hello, Cash. Thank you very much for my flowers. They’re beautiful. Have a nice night.” I slip between him and the opening in the door.

“Sure thing, darlin'. You do the same,” he says over his shoulder before pulling the door shut behind him.

There's something about that man calling me darlin' in that deep, rough voice of his.Gracious, it almost makes me come undone. Which isbad, bad, bad. Cash Carson is a no-good dog, sexy voice or not.

I linger in the entryway, trying to get my bearings and calm my thoughts. Two deep breaths, in and out, and I’m feeling a bit more put together.

“Boys,” I shout, way louder than necessary.

“In the livin’ room, Myles,” Simon shouts back, equally loud.

I’m met with the sight of Simon and Drake bickering quietly over something—probably some SEC football nonsense.Ignoring both of them, I set my tote bag on the coffee table and retrieve their gifts from it.

“What are y’all talking about?” I ask, dropping the packages into their laps, causing them both to stop and look at me.

“Nothin’ of any importance. Now, what’re these?” Drake asks, gesturing to the tissue paper-wrapped bundles.

“Well, why would I tell you when you can just open it and see?”

That’s all the encouragement they need, because the next thing I know, tissue paper is flying.

“Myles, why did you buy us?—”

“Drake, shut your trap and look closer,” Simon interrupts, his voice thick with emotion.

Drake does as he’s told, taking in the words embroidered across the onesie:UNCLE DRAKE’S WINGMAN.

“It’s a boy? You’re havin’ a boy?” I nod, my smile out of control.

“Well, hot damn!” Drake exclaims as he grabs hold of my wrist, pulling me down onto the couch between him and Simon, where they swallow me up in a bear hug.

I wiggle out of their arms and settle in for the long haul. I’m sure they have questions. I know I do, and I’m gonna get some damn answers.

“Kid got a name yet?” Simon asks, trying to discreetly wipe the moisture gathering in his lashes on his shirt sleeve.

“Nope,” I say popping the 'P'. "Figure I need to meet him first."

“Drake! Name him Drake.” I laugh and shake my head no, causing Drake to pout. Which only makes me laugh harder.

“Drake Collins, you’re enough trouble on your own. The world don’t need two of you,” I tell him once I catch my breath.

“Now, boys, let’s get down to business.” I school my features, trying to look stern and serious.

As much as I want to question Drake about Azalea, I don’t. She’d kill me if I told him I knew they hooked up, and obviously, he doesn’t want me to know. So, I swallow those questions down and focus on getting some answers about this morning.

“Why was Cash Carson at my house?”

“He said he was coming to apologize, but you weren’t home. Said y’all went on a date.” Drake trails off.

“We may have,” I hedge. “Well, not really. He was only taking me out to say sorry for the other time he was an ass. See a pattern emerging?”

“I’m not sure two times makes a pattern, Myles.”

“I dunno, Simon. Two times seems legit. Is there a formula for that shit or something?” At least Drake has my back.

“Yeah, actually. They say it takes three to make a pattern.”

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