Southern Hearts (Southern Love Series)

Southern Love

Ava Thorn

A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys,
and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our
truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can
be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be. Each unveils
the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that
one person we're safe in our own paradise.

~Richard Bach

Copyright © 2014

Ava Thorn

This was the last place Austin wanted to be. He looked
around the massive barn that had been converted into the venue for the wedding
reception that his fiancée Rebecca had dragged him to. In three months, he
would be tying the knot with the woman he loved. He didn't feel the need to
mingle around the room with a bunch of stiff, snobby people.

He wasn't much into the whole wedding scene. He wasn't even
planning his own wedding. Well, he thought to himself, even if the music and
company were boring, at least he had the food to look forward to.

"This is so good." He groaned and savored the
pulled pork and Jack, a grilled cheese sandwich with tomatillo jam. Austin
glanced over at his soon-to-be wife Rebecca. "Sugar, I want whoever
catered this wedding to cater ours," he crooned in his southern accent.

Rebecca smiled and shook her head no. "This is not
going to be served at my wedding, darling."

Austin looked at Rebecca in disbelief, but he knew this
wasn't the time or place to have an argument with her. "I'll be right back."
He wiped his mouth and stood up.

Austin walked towards a waiter who was carrying a tray of
hors d'oeuvres, his mouth watering as he tasted the fried green tomatoes with
lump crab remoulades. His taste buds were electrified with one bite, which
sealed the deal.

Getting the chef to cater their wedding was a must. He
hadn't asked for much during the wedding planning, but now that he had tasted
something so delicious, he wanted it.

"Excuse me, do you know where I can meet the
chef?" he asked the waiter.

"You're Austin McBride," the waiter stuttered.
"I'm one of your biggest fans."

"Thanks, man, I appreciate that," Austin said as
he followed the waiter to the kitchen.

"Farrah, someone wants to meet you," the waiter
called out.

Austin stared at the woman named Farrah, who was naturally
beautiful, especially with her creamy brown skin and light brown eyes. Her
curly black hair was pulled back from her face into a ponytail. Her smile was
warm and welcoming as she gazed up at him. For the first time in Austin's life,
he was lost for words. He surveyed her from head to toe; she wore a simple
black dress that ended a few inches above her knees, but it was a pure shame
that the white apron covered her ample curves.

***

Farrah turned around to see one of her waiters walking
towards her with a handsome cowboy behind him. The man screamed sex appeal with
his alluring grey eyes. He wore blue jeans, a white shirt, and a tan blazer.
Farrah saw he was holding a tan cowboy hat in his hand, and she noticed that
some of the waiters and cooks were watching him as he made a beeline towards
her.
Yeah, he is fine
, she thought to herself.

He wasn't muscularly built, but he was lean and unique. The
man was beautifully bronze as if he spent most of his days out in the sun.

"Hello." He extended his hand to her. "I'm
Austin," he drawled in a southern accent.

"Farrah Rue." She shook his hand. For a split
second, the way he was staring at her made her feel insecure.

Did she have a booger in her nose or something in her
teeth? "Can I have my hand back?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, honey," Austin said as he let go of
her hand.

Farrah adored Austin's southern accent; his voice was so
warm and husky that it made her shiver. "So, what can I do for you?"
she asked.

"Would you be willing to cater my wedding in three
months? Crap, I should hire you just for a party I'm throwing in a couple
weeks."

"Yes! Of course!" she exclaimed and cleared her
throat. "I would love to cater both."

"Do you have a business card?" he asked.

"Sure." Farrah went to her book bag and pulled
out a card for him. "Just come by the restaurant so we can go over a menu
that would suit you and your bride."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, looking over at the stove,
where a chef was preparing a plate for service.

Farrah smiled inwardly. Walking over to the chef, she
whispered into the man's ear. She accepted the plate and gave it to Austin.
"Buttermilk fried chicken and gourmet mac and cheese. Also, here is my
business card."

Austin grinned from ear to ear as he looked down at the
plate. He took a huge bite and groaned. "This is so good."

"Thank you," she had started to say when she was
interrupted. "Austin!" a woman shrieked.

Farrah turned to see a beautiful brunette walking towards
them. The woman looked like she had just stepped off the runway in Paris as she
strode in the kitchen with a look of disgust on her pretty face.

"Austin," she repeated. "What are you doing
in here with the help?" she said, looking down on Farrah.

Austin took that moment and turned to Farrah. "I'm
sorry for my rude fiancée." He put the plate down on the counter.

Farrah saw a heated argument brewing between the couple.
She pretended to get back to work on a recipe, but instead she observed this
woman who had barged into the kitchen wearing designer clothes and expensive
jewelry.

"You're missing the reception because you're back
here," the woman snapped, clearly annoyed.

Austin turned his attention to Farrah. "I will get in
touch with you in a few days," he said, and winked at her before guiding his
date out of the kitchen.

"Farrah!"

She turned to see one of the waiters, Greg, looking at her.
"Yes?" she asked, looking back at him.

"Do you know who that man is?" he asked with a
dazed look in his eyes.

"A potential client," she replied.

"Girl, you need to get out more." Greg pulled out
his cellphone. He typed rapidly and handed it to her.

"Okay." She took the phone from him and stared at
it. "Austin McBride. So what am I looking at?" she asked.

Greg sucked his teeth and took his phone back from her.
"He's a country singer!" he exclaimed.

Farrah shrugged. She didn't care if Austin McBride was
President Obama. To her, he was just another customer, which would be
beneficial to her restaurant. She was on cloud nine. Catering Austin McBride's
wedding was going to be a big deal for Southern Rose Eatery.

Looking down at the hand that Austin had held a few minutes
ago, for some reason, she felt this unexplained connection and familiarity with
the man.

***

Austin steered Rebecca out of the kitchen.

"Can't you ever be nice?" he asked as he pulled
her over to the side.

"Do you know that you made me look like an
idiot?" she said through a tight fake smile as they walked past a group of
people. "People asking me where my fiancé is, and I don't even know!"

"So you're mad because I went into the kitchen to
compliment the chef?" he asked.

"Austin, you were in the kitchen with the help for
fifteen minutes!" Rebecca whined.

"Rebecca." He stared into her blue eyes.
"Grow up," he said before kissing her forehead.

One thing he hated about Rebecca was her complete inability
to drop a disagreement.

"Rebecca!" a woman called out and ran over to
them. She glanced at Austin. "I'm going to steal her one second."

"Please," Austin replied and walked away to the
bar. The last thing he needed was to get into a shouting match with Rebecca and
cause a scene. He sat at the bar drinking whiskey until something caught his
attention. Across the room, Farrah Rue stood talking to a wedding guest. Austin
reached into his pocket and pulled out the business card she had given him.

Southern Rose Eatery, Owner Farrah Rue

There was something about Farrah. He felt like he knew her
from somewhere, but he couldn't put his finger on it. One thing was for sure:
her food was exquisite.

After arriving home from the wedding, Austin searched
through his closet for suitable clothes to wear for his evening work on the
farm. He was still trying to figure out how he was going to tell Rebecca that
he wanted Southern Rose Eatery to cater their wedding.

"I was thinking," he started to say as he walked
out of the closet holding jeans and a white shirt.

"What's that, baby?" Rebecca said as she searched
for her latest wedding magazine.

"I want Southern Rose Eatery to cater our wedding."
He handed Rebecca the business card he was given.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and refused to even look at the
card. Austin tossed it onto the nightstand.

"Austin." Rebecca laughed. "I'm not serving
country dishes to wedding guests."

Austin paused and looked at Rebecca. "I just realized
something," he said as he changed his clothes.

"What's that?" Rebecca asked absently as she
flipped through the wedding magazine.

"Lately, you've been saying that this is your wedding,
not
our
wedding, like I'm not part of the planning, when technically I
should be since I'm paying an obscene amount of money for the beginning of our
life as husband and wife." Austin put on his riding boots and stood up.

"Austin, my family is from New York, and our friends
and acquaintances are very sophisticated. They're not going to eat any of that
artery-clogging food." Rebecca's laughter filled their master bedroom.

"A part of me doesn't know who you are anymore."
Austin grabbed his hat and started to walk out of the room.

"What are you saying? You don't want to get
married?" Rebecca asked as she ran after him.

"I'm not saying that, Becca." He turned to look
at her. "I know that I love you and I want to marry
you
, but not
this selfish brat who thinks she's superior to everyone else."

"Forgive me. I'm just so uptight with the wedding
coming up and everything," she said and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Okay," he said and kissed her forehead before
leaving the room.

***

Austin leaned against the wooden fence as he watched his horse
Shadow gallop around the corral. Austin looked around the McBride ranch. This
was home, no matter where he was at in the world. With his hectic schedule, he
was lucky to spend a week or even just two days at home. Austin loved all two
hundred acres of the ranch he'd purchased five years ago. He was thirty-three
years old and ready to settle down with a wife and have a house full of babies.

"How was the wedding?"

Austin turned and waved at Hank, his cousin and ranch
manager. "Oh, you know, stuck-up fake people." He grinned.

"Well, get used to it!" Hank replied.

"What do you mean by that?" Austin stepped into
the corral and called Shadow over.

"Rebecca doesn't like it here." Hank laughed.
"She finds every reason to leave the ranch, plus she never rides the horse
you bought her."

Austin had been so busy focusing on recording his new album
that he failed to realize how much Rebecca hated coming back to the ranch with
him.

"I'm not one to tell you what to do with your life,
but marriage is supposed to last forever. Can you see that with Rebecca?"

Austin knew Hank was never a person to mince words.
"She said it's the wedding details that make her a bridezilla."

"You know you're like my brother, Austin. You're a
southern gentleman by nature because that's how our mommas raised us, but what
would Ma say right now?"

"I just need to think. Can you take Shadow back to the
stables for me?"

"Sure." Hank slapped Austin on the back.

***

Farrah closed her eyes as the hot water soothed her achy
body. Her legs and back were on fire, but she didn't care. The wedding she had
catered tonight went off without a problem. Everyone had enjoyed their meals,
especially the bride and groom. It didn't hurt that her business had gained
popularity and five potential new catering jobs. Yes indeed, Farrah would take
an achy body any day of the week to know that her business was finally going to
be in the black instead of the red.

She opened her eyes when her phone rang for the fourth time
since she had gotten in the bathtub. She ignored it and turned up the volume of
her music, allowing the smooth jazz of Boney James to fill the air. She sucked
her teeth when the phone started to ring again for the fifth time.

She reached for the cordless phone and pressed the button
without looking at the caller ID. "Hello?" she said.

"Child, I know you've seen my calls," her
grandmother, Mona, said with attitude.

"I'm sorry, Nana. I was in the shower." Farrah
leaned her head back on the terrycloth.

"For that long? Girl, you going to have a high water
bill!" she said.

"How was your day?" Farrah said, interrupting
her.

"It was good. The Lord blessed me with another day,
but you wouldn't know that because you didn't call your poor grandma,"
Mona said, trying to sound sad.

"Nana," Farrah started to say to say, but her
grandmother kept talking.

"I saw that boy today. He asked about you. He said he
misses you," Mona said.

Farrah sat up. "Nana, my life has been better without
him." Farrah couldn't believe her grandmother would even bring her ex up
to her.

"He made mistakes like any other man," Mona
snapped.

Farrah rolled her eyes. She wondered if Nana would have
told her son the same thing ten years ago, that he'd only made a mistake.

"Nana, I have to go, but we will talk tomorrow."

"Think about what I said," Mona said and hung up.

Farrah pressed the end button and put the phone back on the
floor beside the tub.

She sat in the water until it became cold. Her mind drifted
back to Fredrick, the man she used to love until he had tried to beat her
physically and emotionally. Tears rolled down Farrah's face as she thought
about the beating he had given her.

"You will never be anything!" Frederick had
yelled as he kicked her in the stomach.

Farrah remembered waking up in the hospital with a black
eye and six stitches in the side of her head. She had promised herself that she
wasn't going end up like her mother. Farrah decided to kick the bad habit of
keeping a terrible man around. She wasn't going to die by the hands of a man
who loved her like her momma did.

She left Louisiana with her meager savings and the money
she received from the insurance policy from her mother's death. Arriving in
Texas, she had opened her restaurant, Southern Rose Eatery.

She got out of the tub and dried off, then put on a
nightshirt that had belonged to her mother. On days when she needed to feel
closer to her mother, she would slip into her old t-shirt and try to picture
her. She crawled into bed and closed her eyes, trying to remember her mother's
voice as she fell asleep.