Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Aaron
“You still stopping by?” Brantley asks as I sit in the driveway staring at the sprawling home before me.
“Yeah,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Not sure we’ll stay long. A bar isn’t really her scene.”
“Can I ask again why you’re doing this?”
“You know why,” I grumble. “It easier than trying to explain why I don’t want to.”
“But it isn’t fair,” Brantley says and I let out a heavy breath. “To you or to her.”
“It’s a date Brantley, not a marriage proposal.”
About that time I notice the curtain in the large front window move to the side and a familiar woman peeking out.
“I’ve been spotted,” I say, feeling like my stomach bottoms out. “I better get up to the door.”
“All right, I’ll see you in a little while,” he says, ending the call.
Tossing my phone into the center console, I climb out of my truck and start up the driveway. Lifting my hand to knock on the solid oak door, it opens quickly enough that I know they were waiting on the opposite side.
“Aaron,” Mrs. Hollis says with a smile as she steps forward and leans in to kiss my cheek. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten your manners.” She arches a brow as she steps back instantly making me feel like I am a scorned child.
“No, ma’am,” I assure her already fighting the urge in me to turn around and walk away. “Just a last minute work call, so that I could be sure there would be no further interruptions for the evening.”
“Great to hear.” She gives me that stern, motherly look.
Or maybe it’s a silent warning, hell I don’t know, the woman is a little frightening.
She has always managed to make me uncomfortable.
Joan Hollis has always acted as though she was on a pedestal and that everyone else should cater to her needs.
She is rude, spoiled, and if it wasn’t for her and my mother being close friends I probably would have already told her to pull the stick out of her ass.
“Chelsea, dear.” She turns slightly just as her daughter rounds the corner.
Don’t get me wrong, Chelsea is very attractive. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and the kind of smile that I am more than positive her parents paid a pretty penny to guarantee.
She walks toward me and I do my best not to snicker at her choice in outfit. It’s more like we are about to attend Sunday morning service than going out to dinner and a movie. I did mention that we were going to stop in at the bar too, in order to show Rory my support.
I suddenly feel like I am sixteen and going out on my very first date ever. A date to which her mother dressed her for.
“You look very pretty,” I tell her as she steps up at her mother’s side.
“Thank you.” She dips her chin shyly and smiles.
“And he looks handsome, right dear?”
She nods and again that empty pit in my stomach feels like it opens up wider. Chelsea is obviously under a spell when it comes to her mother. She has the overwhelming need to please a woman that is not pleasable.
I don’t know how to do this.
Clearing my throat, needing to move past this awkwardness, I step aside and hold out my hand. “We have seven o’clock reservations.”
She nods, leans in to her mother, and kisses her cheek.
Leading her toward the truck, while holding on to her forearm, I hate already how this is making me feel.
Like I said Chelsea is attractive, but if we were out and crossed paths on a normal day, I wouldn’t look twice.
We are two different people living two different lives.
I am not a wine and cheese kind of guy. I’m a beer and pizza guy and I imagine this girl looking at a slice of pizza and wondering what she should do next. Way too worried about getting sauce on her hands or under her nails.
The conversation with her on the way to the bar is like pulling teeth. She says very little, smiles instead of laughing, and holds her hands in her lap very precisely, like she’s posing for pictures.
When we pull into the parking lot and I glance at her, she actually has her nose wrinkled up in disgust. Something about that rubs me the wrong way and maybe I shouldn’t say anything but it flies out before I think twice.
“Got something against a small town bar?”
“No,” she says nervously still watching ahead like she expects any moment a pack of wild raging bulls to come barreling out or something crazy to take place. “I’ve never been here before but I’m sure it’s nice.” It’s almost like it’s physically painful for her to say those words.
“We won’t be long,” I say, remembering that this entire night will be reported back to her mother. To which Joan will then call my mother and break down everything in her own version.
So I climb out, walk around to the opposite side, and open up the passenger door. Helping her out, I keep hold of her hand and lead her toward the front door. “One of my lifelong friends plays here a couple weekends a month. I like to at least make an appearance to show my support to him.”
That’s a lie. I’m usually here all night, closing the place down with our group. A group that I am completely comfortable being around and never have to pretend to be someone I’m not.
“That’s nice.” She smiles.
Just as we reach the door it opens and I try not to laugh when Chelsea jumps back like the person coming out may attack her.
It’s right then I realize just how sheltered of a life this girl has led. It’s not a show, she isn’t all sweet and proper when her mother is around. This girl has been fed with a silver spoon her entire life and is just like her mother, looking down her nose at those she sees as beneath her.
It pisses me off.
This place is somewhere I frequently visit. The people inside, they are my family.
Being with her will mean changing the man I am.
Being with Chelsea would mean letting go of the life I’m completely comfortable with. A life I love, though wild and chaotic, a life I have no desire to change.