“A little,” I say, watching the dark trees blur past the window.
He laughs under his breath and squeezes my leg. “You’re going to love this. Trust me.”
The house comes into view like something out of an old film. Two stories of weathered red brick and black shutters, with a deep porch wrapped around its front. Lantern-style lights burn low oneither side of the wide front door, casting a golden haze over tall white columns and two pairs of rocking chairs.
Mississippi rich.Oldmoney. The kind that drinks top-shelf bourbon on the porch and hands down family silver like scripture.
Jon David parks, practically buzzing in his seat, all teeth and barely contained excitement.
My stomach twists, and not in a way I’d call excitement. I can’t tell if it’s nerves… or something far worse.
“This is for you, baby,” he says, brushing my hair away from my face as I unclip my seatbelt. “It’s all for you.”
Then why doesn’t it seem that way? Why does it feel like he’s getting what he wants, and I’m just going along with it?
I step out into the thick Mississippi heat, pulse skittering. The air feels wrong already.
The front door opens before we can knock.
“Evenin’.” His smile is lazy, voice smoother than slowly poured whiskey.
His name is Callum. Dark hair and light eyes. Green, maybe. Tall. Solid build. Jeans and a white T-shirt cling in all the right places. His eyes drag over me slowly, as though he’s deciding where to bite first.
“You must be Laurette.”
He takes my hand, and instinct screams at me to pull away.
“She’s even more beautiful in person,” he says, glancing at Jon David with a grin. “You didn’t do her justice.”
Jon David’s laughter is a little too loud. “I told you, right?” He slides his arm around me, pulls me in close, kissing the side of my head. “My girl’s perfect in every way.”
I manage a smile, heart hammering.
Inside, the house is old but cared for. Restored, not gutted. Southern charm at its best.
Callum leads us into the sitting room with high ceilings, soft lighting, expensive furniture. In the corner, there’s a wet bar, glassware gleaming behind beveled glass doors.
“Let’s start with a drink, shall we? Whiskey, wine, something sparkling?”
Jon David claps him on the shoulder and squeezes, too comfortably, for a man we’re meeting for the first time. “Pour me whatever you’re having.”
“And for you, sweetheart?” Callum turns to me, smiling.
Tension winds tight in my chest, as if instinct is ahead of thought. A flash of warning buried inside all this easy charm.
I don’t know this man. And tonight, I need my wits more than I need the warmth of whiskey.
“I’m okay. Maybe I’ll have something a little later.”
“Fair enough.” His eyes flicker over me. “We’ve got all night.”
Jon David chuckles, sinking into the sofa, and pats the cushion beside him. “Laurette, sit, baby. You look like you’re about to bolt.”
I lower myself beside him, every movement hesitant. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Callum asks, pouring two fingers of amber into a glass. “You seem a little tense.”
“She’s good,” Jon David jumps in, grinning. “Laurette’s always this way before she relaxes. Don’t worry. Once she’s comfortable, this one’s a fucking firecracker.”
