CHAPTER TEN
W hitney’s heart was a flutter by the time she’d collapsed onto the recliner, the dinner dishes put away and Paul and Trevor back home. “You got a few minutes for some vino and terrible television?” Daisy teased, jostling a wine bottle and wearing her pajamas.
Knowing all that waited for Whitney was more rambling thoughts about Trevor, she eagerly agreed. “Yes, please.” The pair settled in for an episode of a true crime show with half glasses of wine.
The wine was on the sweet side, but Whitney wouldn’t complain. By the time the suspect was arrested, Daisy was asleep on the couch. Her head rested on a pillow, her mouth already open. Gus was asleep as well, curled up under the coffee table. Whitney quietly gathered their glasses and rinsed them out before heading to the bathroom.
While she brushed her teeth, she realized they were almost out of toothpaste. She also discovered she hadn’t packed any tampons for her upcoming period, so a trip to the drugstore was needed.
Whitney checked the time on her phone and Googled the nearest chain drugstore, which was fortunately only a few minutes away. She slid on a pair of sandals and covered Daisy in a blanket before scrawling a note and leaving it on the coffee table: Be back soon, running to the drugstore. She managed to be so quiet, even Gus didn’t stir from his dream state.
Less than ten minutes later, Whitney stood in the toothpaste aisle, lost in a sea of red and blue boxes, her attention anywhere but the matter at hand. The longer she stared at the boxes, the more her thoughts roamed. Had she left enough toothpaste at home for Winnie? Was Xena behaving with Mrs. Rodgers? Most importantly... did she care?
As she dropped a tube of toothpaste into her basket, she idly wondered what type of toothpaste Trevor liked. It was silly, really, to ponder something as trivial as the brands he used, but she was curious.
Baxter had always made a deal about what she bought, mostly because it was never what he used. She gravitated toward the generic over brand names, while Baxter would gladly spend double digits on something that worked half as well as the cheap stuff. He was all about labels, regardless of what the product was for.
She had just picked up a package of dental floss, lost in thoughts of her past and present, when the sound of footfalls echoed behind her. She scooted closer to the display; it was getting late, and she assumed most shoppers were like her—desperate to get in and out with what they needed.
Yet her attempts at hiding were fruitless as Trevor stepped up to her side, startling her right out of her wits.
“Whitney? Fancy seeing you here,” he mused, joining her at the display case.
The dental floss tumbled to the floor, along with Whitney’s tongue. Trevor was always attractive, but since changing out of his uniform after dinner, he was a dish best served hot. His shorts hung low at his waist, and he wore a Pinegrove FD T-shirt that did very little to hide his assets. His biceps bunched and flexed as he retrieved the fallen floss, but dental hygiene was the furthest thing from Whitney’s mind.
Well, that wasn’t true. Right now she desperately wanted to test the staying power of her toothpaste, but she shook herself back to the moment. Ogling him in public like this didn’t feel right, yet it took Herculean strength to wrench her gaze from his arms to his face. Although it was hardly a bad view.
His dark red hair was damp, and judging from the smell of soap, he’d come from the shower. Whitney allowed herself a moment to picture Trevor all lathered up, until she became too lathered up. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, she coughed and fumbled with her basket.
Whitney pushed through her lustful thoughts and attempted an intelligent conversation ... or at least a hello. Fate had thrown them together in the toothpaste aisle, and she wanted to enjoy the moment, no matter how long it lasted.
“Trevor! You scared the living daylights out of me. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone.”
His hand reached out, gently grazing her shoulder. The quick pass of his touch sent a bolt of awareness from her neck to her belly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“No harm done.” Her voice cracked on the last word. Any attempts at keeping her cool in front of Trevor officially up in smoke. “Goodness, I’m a mess. Your momma and I were enjoying a glass of wine with Dateline when I noticed I’m out of a few things.” She held up her handbasket, shaking the contents.
Trevor raised his hand. “Same. After all that pie and ice cream”—he chuckled, winking at her—“I went out for a run and, well ...” His words faltered, but his smile stayed fixed in place. “You look great,” he blurted. “I mean, don’t say you’re a mess.”
They both chuckled nervously, although she wasn’t sure why. This was hardly their first time alone together, but she craved more. An idea sparked, but she hesitated. It was already late, and she knew he had to work early in the morning. More importantly, she had to work in the morning.
Whitney adjusted her shopping basket, deciding to go for broke. “Fancy a drink?” she asked just as Trevor said, “You wouldn’t be up for a drink at The Pecan Pit?”
They both burst out laughing, the sound reverberating around them. Trevor’s answering smile caused the dimple in his chin to pop, and Whitney damn near swooned. She’d give anything for one of Scarlett O’Hara’s fans and a fainting couch.
“Give me a second, and I’ll meet you at the register?” He was already sidestepping to grab a bottle of Scope.
“Sure,” she chirped. On her way to the checkout lane, she hastily grabbed a tube of lipstick. It was the least she could do to gussy herself up, especially since she was in leggings and her old *NYSNC T-shirt. But Trevor told her she looked great, and she was going to believe him.
Once they paid for their items, the pair walked out into the summer night. A block up, she saw the flickering lights of The Pecan Pit’s parking lot. And to think, only last week, she’d stopped and started this fateful journey.
Trevor held her hand as she stepped onto the gravel lot. It could be his Southern manners, but Whitney relished these brief interactions. A man hadn’t held her hand like this since before Baxter, and that was a sad fact. Whitney understood she deserved affection, and she was tired of pretending she didn’t.
They left their purchases in their cars and walked toward the hubbub of The Pecan Pit. Dipping low so he could whisper in her ear, Trevor said, “It’s wing night, so it might be rowdy.”
“Wing night?” Whitney raised an eyebrow.
Trevor snickered. “Here’s the thing. Buster hates wings. He claims they’re more mess than they’re worth. So he took them off the menu last year out of protest, until half of Pinegrove rallied to get them back on the menu. His concession was they were only available one night a week.” He kicked the door open with his foot, reaching out to keep it open for Whitney to pass.
“Geez Louise!” She exclaimed as they entered the packed bar. Nearly every table was full, the music from the jukebox rattling through the hot sauce-scented air.
Trevor drew her closer, maneuvering them toward the bar. “Let’s snag those two seats on the corner.” It wasn’t lost on Whitney that was where she’d sat during her first visit. They settled onto their stools, Trevor’s arm protectively draped over the back of her seat. He waved down Buster on his way to the kitchen, holding up three fingers. “One order of wings and two sweet teas.”
Buster leaned on the bar, his eyes tired but his smile genuine. “I curse the day I created wing day.” He stuck his hands in the air, waggling the chubby digits. “These bad boys are going to smell like hot sauce for the rest of my natural-born life.”
“You know,” Trevor started, “there is this wild invention out there called ... gloves!”
The other man barked out a laugh. “I see how it’s going to be.”
Trevor fist-bumped Buster, chuckling under his breath. “Calm down, man. You still managed to outlaw karaoke.”
“Shhh!!!” Buster waved his arms in the air to stop Trevor. “Are you insane, Trev? Don’t even mention the ‘K’ word in this bar.” Turning his attention to Whitney, he said, “It’s a pleasure to see you back here. I’ve heard nothing but great things from my auntie.”
Whitney flushed. “Oh, um. Thanks?” She nervously toyed with her curls, fluffing them and adding more volume. It was a nervous habit she’d picked up over the years, and some days Whitney feared her hair would consume the entire eastern seaboard.
“Kim is Buster’s aunt. Word traveled fast that you’re going to be helping her at the shop.” Trevor’s breath tickled her ear lobe, and Whitney shivered. She made a mental note to have him do that again when they were in private. Lordy, look at her making plans!
“Wow! News really does travel fast in Pinegrove.” She rested her hand over her heart, which pounded louder than a timpani.
Buster winked and disappeared a moment before returning with two large mugs of sweet tea and a stack of napkins. “Julia will be right back with those damned wings.” He muttered something under his breath and disappeared into the kitchen.
This was new. Working the life of a temporary worker meant she rarely made attachments, let alone announcements about where she’d be working. In the blink of an eye, Whitney had managed to reinvent herself as someone with a job, with connections. Neither of those things waited for her back in Savannah, but she shoved that thought down.
Sipping from her sweet tea, she peered at Trevor from underneath her lashes. He rested his forearms on the bar, peeling the paper off his straw. When he caught her staring, he flashed her a smile that made her knees weak. Thankfully, she was rooted to her stool.
Whitney gave herself the time to really absorb the moment, to sit there and picture a future in Pinegrove. Granted, she had no idea where this chemistry with Trevor would lead, but she was eager to find out. She was also excited about work for the first time, ever!
By the time a basket of wings arrived, Whitney made herself a promise. She was going to keep seeing Trevor; she was going to keep stepping out of her comfort zone. She was done being afraid. It was time to live.
*
J ulia sashayed out of the back with a tray full of wings and a seductive look in her eye. Trevor liked her fine, as a neighbor, but he grew tired of her flirtatious banter, especially when a lady was present.
Instinctively, he scooted his seat closer to Whitney. He adjusted his position so he was in profile, all his attention focused on the beauty beside him. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and gently tugged on a curl at Whitney’s neck. “I’m really glad we both needed toothpaste,” he whispered.
Whitney smirked, moving their drinks out of the way as Julia slid their wings over. “Here y’all go,” she said, jutting her hip out and leaning a little too close to Trevor. “Haven’t seen you here in a minute, Trev.”
Whitney tensed beside him, and he couldn’t stand her discomfort. “Julia, good evening. I’ve been busy, but I thought I’d take my girl out tonight.”
“Oh,” was all Julia could muster before she shrugged and trudged off to the other side of the bar.
Whitney grabbed some napkins, pressing a few into Trevor’s hand before snaking a wing for herself. “Friend of yours?” she asked, dunking a wing in a cup of blue cheese before delicately taking a bite.
He sat there like a damn slack-jawed fool watching her expertly eat the wing without smearing her lipstick. It was simultaneously seductive and impressive. He couldn’t decide if he should kiss her or take notes.
Trevor cleared his throat, took a slug of his tea, and confessed, “Julia’s good people, but she’s always sniffing around for dates.” He held up a hand to stop Whitney’s protests. “Which I’m not in the market for, but she never seems to mind trying.”
That answer seemed to please Whitney, who smirked and selected her second wing. “I see. And if you don’t mind me asking, how many girls do you bring to the Pecan Pit?”
Trevor took a wing and held it aloft, wanting to put Whitney at ease before delving unceremoniously into his own snack. “I hope that comment didn’t bother you. I didn’t mean to go all caveman and stake my claim.”
Whitney raised an eyebrow. “Did you hear me complaining? I’m merely asking for clarification.”
“I like you,” he said, shocking himself with his bluntness. His time with Virginia had been all about games, toying with emotions when it was best just to be honest. He didn’t want that with Whitney, so he repeated, “I like you, Whitney.”
Whitney recovered. “I like you, too.”
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled.” Trevor chuckled, snagging the cup of ranch and making a royal mess.
Whitney handed him another napkin as a blob of sauce slid down his chin, getting stuck in his dimple. “Let me,” she offered, swiping her thumb over the spot and then licking it clean. Trevor needed to adjust himself before he could catch her eye again. Was it getting hot in here?
While Trevor spiraled into a lust-induced haze, Whitney rocked on her stool to the sounds of the jukebox. Somewhere over the course of their hot sauce-induced flirting, someone had swapped from country music to boy band pop.
“Oh my Lord!” Whitney gasped when a familiar song came on.
“I take it this is a favorite?” he teased, loving how animated Whitney grew the longer the song played.
She dabbed at her fingers with the last clean napkin before balling it up and tossing it at his forehead. It bounced off and landed at his feet. “Excuse me, Trevor Mays. I will not have you mocking *NSYNC or ‘Bye, Bye, Bye’. This is arguably the best pop song of all time.”
“I’ll take your word on that, darlin’.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she leaned into him.
“Stick with me. I’ll bore you to tears with my useless music knowledge.”
“So you’re more than a country girl?” he asked, offering her the last wing, which she politely declined with a shake of her head.
Whitney drained the last of her tea, sliding the glass forward for a refill. Buster came over with a pitcher and topped both their glasses. “I hope everything’s good, even those damn wings.”
Trevor chuckled. “Buster, I don’t know if anyone told you, but this is your bar. If you hate these things, get rid of them.”
Buster gestured around the crowded space. “And miss my biggest day of the week? Are you crazy?” He rolled his neck and stomped back behind the swinging doors.
“Now that we’ve harassed poor Buster, let’s get back to music.” He pointed to Whitney’s T-shirt, which fit her curves like a second skin. He was well aware of *NSYNC and their songs, Jessie had gone through a belated boy band phase, but he wanted to hear every detail from Whitney’s perspective.
“Well ...” Whitney let out an exhale. “I became obsessed with these guys”—she gestured at her shirt—“when Winnie was in third grade, and I was barely in kindergarten. Our daddy got her concert tickets with her friends and Mom, but I was too young to go. While they were at the concert, he took me out for ice cream and played his old CDs in the car. We listened to everyone from Johnny Cash and Hank Williams to Bonnie Raitt and Reba.”
Trevor watched Whitney’s face as she described the memory in detail, her cheeks plumping as she smiled, her dark hair framing her lovely face. A few freckles on her nose bunched as she spoke, and Trevor committed every constellation to memory.
“That day sort of started our tradition of listening to music together. When Mom and Winnie were busy, Daddy and I listened to music and picked our favorite songs. Last year for Christmas, we made each other playlists.” She sighed contentedly. “I miss my parents, and I don’t get down to Florida enough. Yet when I listen to those songs, it feels like home.”
She turned to face him, and everything around them went silent. Trevor had countless memories with his daddy that still brought a lump to his throat, but sitting with Whitney and simply talking made those memories seem less painful—made them feel like the treasures they were.
“You ever share music with your daddy? What are your favorite memories?” She reached out and covered his hand with hers. “What keeps him alive in your heart?”
Her question nearly knocked Trevor off his stool, but he rallied quickly. “Good gracious, darlin’. You’re coming in hot with the questions.”
“I didn’t mean to ...” She started to pull back, but he placed his other hand on top.
“You’re perfect. In fact, it’s nice to talk about parents and childhood without feeling so dang melancholy.” He huffed and straightened his shoulders. “Daddy and I were obviously obsessed with anything related to the firehouse. From drills and best practices to frivolous stuff like the charity fundraisers, we were always talking shop since I was old enough to ride the Ferris wheel at the fireworks extravaganza. But we also loved to go hunting and craw dadding, anything that got us in nature.” Whitney nodded along, not interrupting as he fell down memory lane. “Momma and Jessie aren’t very outdoorsy, so that was our time. We’d get outside and be, you know?” That was only one of the things he missed the most, having someone in his life who he could just be Trevor with.
That loneliness melted away the longer he spent time with Whitney. He wasn’t worried about his career, the loss of his father, or even his broken engagement. He was a man, out with a woman, having a perfectly lovely evening.
Behind them, a pair of women stood on their chairs and started singing a Beyoncé song. The other diners began to clap and cheer, which brought Buster out of the back with a murderous expression.
“That’s a wrap, folks! Pay your server and get the hell home.” Before anyone could argue, he marched over to the jukebox and yanked the cord from the wall. The music died and the bar quieted where only the sound of popping bubbles in beer glasses could be heard.
Their trance broken, Whitney glanced at her watch and gulped. “Good Lord! It’s after ten.”
Trevor helped Whitney to her feet and tossed a handful of bills on the bar top. “Let’s get you home,” he said over his shoulder.
They followed the masses outside and strode down the street to the drug store parking lot.
“Thanks for tonight. It was really nice.” Whitney opened her arms awkwardly, as if going in for a hug. She stumbled back on a cluster of gravel.
“It was,” he agreed, taking the opportunity to steady her on her feet. Just as he was about to second-guess himself, he looped his arms around her waist.
She immediately melted into his embrace, and he could have floated away on a cloud of bliss. Trevor’s grip was firm, yet gentle enough she could pull away. Fortunately, she didn’t, not for a long while. He savored the dips and swells of her curves, resting his chin on top of her head. She smelled like lilacs, and he wanted to stay in this floral-scented haze forever.
“You’re gonna do great tomorrow,” Trevor promised, spooling a curl through his fingers. He had no idea how he’d gotten so bold. Bumping into her had been the highlight of his day, the perfect distraction from everything happening in his life. She brought out happy memories that had felt painful for too long, and there was no way to thank her.
Whitney let out a shuddering breath before pulling back, her face tipped up to meet his gaze. “Thank you,” she said on a sigh. “This definitely helped my jitters. Sleep tight, Trevor.” With a final nod, she walked away.
He watched the sway of her hips as she strode to her car.
Their impromptu meeting had done more for his spirits than any run, beer, or night out with the guys. Whitney put him at ease like no one before, and he craved more.
Trevor needed to see Whitney again, for a proper date. No more chance meetings at the drug store, no more stealing glances over slices of pie at his momma’s house, no more rushed drinks in a noisy bar.
No, sir, Whitney Kerr deserved a real date. Now Trevor needed to man up and ask.