Chapter 10 Dawsen
Dawsen
I’ve been caught in multiple conversations with locals that consisted of absolutely nothing substantial—just the classic “hi, hello, how are ya, this place looks amazing, great turnout, love what you’ve turned this place into.
” Which is all so well meaning, but having the same conversations on repeat is exhausting.
However; It’s a welcome distraction as I’ve been trying to avoid Stephanie all night.
Stephanie is a nice girl, and we’ve had some fun times together—actually, I can’t really vouch for her character at all.
We never talked much in the way of getting to know each other.
I’m not proud of it, but that’s just the way it’s been.
I’ve got a feeling that she might have caught feelings based on the way she’s been trying to get my attention all evening.
And I’m the dick who doesn’t want to deal with that.
In my defense, I laid my intentions out very clearly from the start with her—I’m not looking for anything serious.
I just wanted to have some fun and blow off some steam.
There’s no way to say that without sounding like an asshole though, and I’m getting the feeling that maybe she thought she could be the exception to that.
I’m in the middle of talking to Mira, the woman who owns the only bookstore in town, when I see Birdie hanging around the tasting bar.
I let Mira finish her thought about hosting a book club at Southbound once a month, then I reach out and put my hand on her shoulder, “Mira, that’d be awesome.
We can figure out the details this week.
I’ve got to check on the bar, but it was so great talking to you.
” I say as I’m intently watching Birdie’s every move over Mira’s shoulder.
She gives me a warm smile, “Yes, yes dear.” I nod and make my way to the bar.
Birdie is standing at the edge of the bar that is completely packed.
There’s not one seat available, and there’s hardly any standing room left.
I sneak up behind her, and lean down over her shoulder, altogether a little too close, “Red, or white, miss?” She practically jumps as she reaches up to her ear and looks up and over her shoulder.
She let’s out a breathy chuckle, and I round the bar, and grab a glass.
“Frick, Daws. You scared the shit out of me!” She says as she puts her hand over her chest. I laugh and start polishing a wine glass for her.
“Frick?” I tease. “What are you, in eighth grade?”
She rolls her lips together and folds her hands together on the bar like she’s trying to look distinguished, “I’m trying to cuss less, ok?!” She says it like she’s almost embarrassed at the confession.
“Ahh, City girl’s got a mouth on her, huh?” I say jokingly, trying to ruffle her feathers because I know for a fact she hates being called city girl.
River had her on speakerphone a few months back when she called him to vent about this horrible first date she went on.
She was so offended that the guy called her a city girl, she cut the date short.
I felt a strange sense of satisfaction over that—more than I had any right to feel over something that didn’t concern me.
“I’m not a fucking city girl!” She says in a whisper-yell as she throws one hand up theatrically.
“Okay, whatever you say Bird.” I say with a wink and a half smile. I can see her settle down with that, so I place a bottle of red wine in front of her, “Do you have a preference?” I signal to the bottle as I’m about to pour, waiting for her approval.
“I want the best and most expensive wine you have, please.” She says as she straightens and juts her chin up at me, and sets her eyes on me. Fuck. Those eyes.
I smirk and tilt the glass towards the bottle as I begin to pour.
“This is one of our Cult wines, it’s a Norton. It’s a dry red with a full body. It’s my favorite.”
I give her a heavy pour and she reaches out to grab it, her fingers graze mine at the exchange. She says nothing, but keeps her eyes on me as she takes her first sip. The way she looks bringing that glass of wine to her full lips has my pants getting tighter. I’m sick.
“That’s a damn fine cup of wine, sir.” She says in a very fake southern accent. It’s not lost on me how she just called it a ‘cup of wine’ either.
“Glad you like it.” Is all I can think to say.
She takes another sip, and I’m standing there trying to keep my hands busy by twisting corks back into bottles, and trying to distract myself from the Bird at the end of my bar with the pretty fucking lips, her dark lashes and the jeans that look like they were painted on.
“Heyyy, you!” Stephanie drawls as she basically nudges Birdie from her spot.
“Oh uh, hey! Good to see you, Steph.” I say slightly distracted, because I can’t help but notice Birdie being tuned into this whole interaction.
I’m nothing to her, but for whatever reason, I really don’t want her thinking that there’s anything going on between Stephanie and I.
Because there’s not. I need to make that clear.