Page 31 of Whispered Southern Secrets

That does it. The last fragments of my heart shatters. He doesn’t know anything about me and already making assumptions. Judging me. Trying to psycho analyze my self-esteem. “I’m leaving.”

“I know people have let you down. And it hurts. It freaking hurts.”

“You know what? It’s called boundaries. And it’s healthy to have boundaries. You say you have respect for me, then respect my boundaries. I’m done talking about this.”

“Don’t walk away angry.”

“I’m past the point of angry.”

I grab my purse and charge past him. I make it two steps before I my shin hits something furry, there’s a yelp, and I’m free falling. The sound of my cheek and palms hitting the wooden floor echoes in my ears. The good news is I think my breasts took the brunt of the hit otherwise that would’ve been hurting severely worse.

J.D. is by my side tenderly helping me to my feet. “Darlin’ are you dizzy? Feel sick?”

“I don’t have a concussion. My pride took most of the fall.”

He leads me to the couch. Once I’m safely seated, probably so I can’t hurt myself anymore, he hurries to get me some ice. Sitting next to me, his ocean eyes study every inch of my face as he holds the ice pack to against my cheek.

“My boobs are throbbing, too. Wanna rub a few ice cubes across them?” I go as far as to even wink at him.

“Stop trying to seduce me.”

“I’d rather worship with you. Worship your body.”

“You’re relentless.”

Can’t blame anyone for trying. The man is devastatingly handsome with a voice that would make a nun consider sinning.

“How bad are you hurting?”

“I’m aching,” I pout.

“Stop.”

“Weeping.” I groan.

“Well if we’re back to you trying to get me to go against my morals, I guess that means you’re not mad at me anymore.”

“That’s right. I’m mad at you. Maybe I did get hit harder on the head than I thought.” Cash trots over and then leaps on top J.D.’s lap. I narrow my eyes at him. I swear he turns and smiles at me right before snuggles against J.D’s broad chest. “You tripped me on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Oh good grief. Honey. It was an accident. We’re lucky he wasn’t hurt.”

That little traitor. I rescued him, took him in, spent a fortune at the vet, and he has the nerve to take my boyfriend’s side. J.D. pets him and coos nonsense.

“Or maybe he,” he says in thought. “He stopped you from leaving so we could make up.” As if the four-legged con artist agrees, he licks J.D.’s hand. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

“Nobody in this room that’s for sure.”

Chapter Fifteen

John David

The next couple of days we don’t discuss Honey’s previous marriage, sex, or a future. We simply live one day at a time. Family get togethers. Church functions. Movie nights. Long walks with Cash.

It’s mindboggling she thinks I don’t want to have sex with her. I’m human. Even Jesus faced temptations and He was the son of God. My military experience, although short, did teach me lessons in self-discipline. I’ve done a lot of exercising to help with all my unholy thoughts concerning Honey.

The juvenile office assigned me a new case. This time it’s a seventeen-year-old girl. Her name is Daisy. It’s getting cold out, so yard work isn’t an option. I’ve worked with the Sunday school teacher to have Daisy as her assistant.

After service Daisy comes to my office for me to give her a ride home. “Mr. Brewster?”

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