“It’s barely even started,” he says, smiling at me, his broad lips spreading wide.
“I know.” I shrug. “And it’s already my favorite.”
My stomach growls and I put a hand on it as if that could get it to shush.
“Hungry?” Cody chuckles.
“A little.”
“Good. Next stop’s barbecue.”
“Cody Lawson, I do declare!” I say like an exaggerated southern belle. “You’re spoiling the dickens outta me.”
He laughs and then he affects a southern drawl. “Why ma’am, it’s my every intention to spoil you thoroughly and then to have my way with you in the back of my pickup truck.”
We both burst into laughter.
“Feed me first,” I tease him.
The drive takes about forty minutes and then we’re in an area locals refer to as Twelve South.
“How did you know about this?” I ask Cody when heparks the truck in a lot and comes around to meet me on my side.
“I did my research.”
The idea of him planning this day makes me lightheaded. I stand on tiptoes and plant a kiss on his lips. He wraps his arm around me, backing me against the pickup and stealing my breath with an unexpectedly dizzying kiss.
When he pulls back, he extends his hand and I take it.
“What was that for?” I ask.
“The kiss?”
“Yeah. I might need a minute to recover.”
He chuckles soft and low. “Watching you on Storm. The way you look sitting across from me in my truck. Your answers when I wanted your opinion on the sale.” He pauses and holds my gaze. “Just you.” Then he smiles and adds, “And because we can. I can kiss you anywhere I want today.”
“Be my guest,” I say. And he pauses on the sidewalk, spinning me in toward him, wrapping his arm behind my back and stealing my breath with another.
We cross the street and walk to Edley’s Barbecue. This is the original location, all stained wood and black exterior, sitting right on the street next to other shops. Inside, wooden tables sit on a concrete floor. It’s counter service, so we walk up to the counter, scan the menu boards, and place our order.
“I can’t decide between ribs or brisket,” I tell the girl behind the counter.
“How ’bout we each get one and split?” Cody asks.
We do that and take the waitress’ suggestion on sides: macaroni and cheese, grits casserole and baked beans.
When the silver platters filled with meat and sides arrive, we dig in.
At one point, Cody looks over at me, an amused grin on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Your face.” He smiles.
“Your face,” I say back to him.
He wipes his chin and cheeks with a napkin. There’s already a pile in the middle of the table.
