Page 24 of The Southern Submission

She looks over at me quickly. “Yes,” she says warily. “You remembered that?”

“I have a very good memory.” That only partially covers it. I remember everything, good and bad. “So tell me about your family. You know about my brothers. Do you have siblings?”

“I have four sisters. I’m right in the middle. Serena and Lana are older. Brooke and Cora are younger.”

“So we’re both middle children. Funny how that works. Did you have to referee for your sisters like I did for my brothers? Or were you the quintessential middle child who was doing anything for attention since the eldest is usually independent and the parents baby the youngest?”

“Is that why you’re so annoying and weird?” she asks, the snarl back on her lips for prying into her personal life again.

“Damn, calm down, Spitfire.” I laugh at her quick deflection. “I’m not flirting. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

She huffs in annoyance, likely because I’m right. “I guess it was both stifling and lonely in the middle. There was a gap between my older sisters and me, then my younger sisters, so I’m not very close to either set, but they’re close to each other. I kept to myself, and I read a lot. Partly it was to get awayfrom my noisy family, but mostly because I loved stories. That love turned into writing my own stories. That’s why I decided journalism was the career I wanted to pursue. I wanted to know the story behind everything.”

I love how easily she gave up that bit of information without prompting. It makes me greedy, needing more of her history.

“Are you close with your family now?”

Whether they admit it or not, my brothers are my best friends and the closest people in my life despite how often they drive me crazy or do dumb shit I have to clean up for them. My mom is my favorite person, and my dad is my hero. Family means everything to me. Even Harlowe, the evil queen who wants to set me up with every single woman she knows, is part of that.

“Yes, but I don't get to see them much. Lana and Serena live a few states away. Cora is still in Charleston in high school, and Brooke is at the University of South Carolina a few hours away. My parents live in the house I grew up in, so it feels like a time capsule every time I go home to visit. So much changes, yet stays the same.”

She’s growing more unguarded, less angry, the longer she talks about her family. She’s actually pleasant, which is a nice change.

“Did you like growing up in Charleston?”

“It was fine. It’s a small town but big enough because of the tourism and local industry, so there’s enough to keep busy. We aren’t high society and stayed out of the real drama, with just enough to scrape by for a family of seven. My dad’s an aeronautical engineer. He teaches at the South Carolina Aeronautical Training Center at Trident Technical College. Sounds fancy, but it’s nothing prestigious. My mom is also a teacher but at a local elementary school.”

My ears perk at her father’s career path. “You know Olympus has a clean burning jet engine project we’re working on. We’d have a lot to talk about if we met.”

“You’ll never meet my dad,” Ainsley scoffs with a tone of finality.

“Never say never,” I say with just as much conviction, right as I pull up to her apartment building. “Now be a good girl and think about all you’ve learned about yourself today.” She starts to protest and I stop her. “No, really, just give it some thought and explore the ideas a bit to see what you discover. I don't have to factor into it. I’d rather you know the parts of yourself that can bring you satisfaction and pleasure if you let the control go and what that looks like. I'm here if you want to talk, but I’m not pushing you. Thanks for a fun day at the lake.”

She looks at me incredulously, shakes her head, and removes the pink and gold sunglasses, tucking them back in the glove compartment. “Yeah, it was something.”

When she looks my way again, the fading sunlight catches on her hazel eyes, turning them amber and gold, highlighting a small scattering of light freckles across her cheeks. I find myself smiling at the constellation marking summer on her skin.

“You’re really nothing like I imagined, Payton Olsen. Especially not the sex-fiend side of you.”

I laugh at that. “You have no idea, Ainsley Montgomery, but if you want to, just say the words. I’m looking forward to being your boyfriend and getting to know you better, so I don't have to imagine anything.”

“Fake boyfriend,” she huffs, ignoring the rest of my comment before pulling the door open, stepping out, and turning back to me. “Good night.”

“Night, Muffin.”

She rolls her eyes as she grabs her bag and shuts the door before whirling and heading into her apartment without another word as I chuckle at her haughty retreat.

“You’re going to be mine, little Spitfire.”

Thirteen

The Atlanta Haute List

Mystery Blonde And Billionaire Spotted Second Day In A Row

Atlanta’s newly minted most eligible bachelor may not be single much longer. The mystery blonde he was linked to at The Unicorn Café just yesterday was seen once again with the handsome billionaire businessman, this time as a passenger princess in his six-figure Maserati supercar grabbing coffee to-go Sunday morning. Were the two starting their day together, or ending it? Had they met the day before at the café, or were they previously acquainted? We have questions!

Hauties in the know rushed to provide info on our mystery woman, Ainsley Montgomery, a twenty-five-year-old staff reporter for the Atlanta Gazette, asmall community newspaper that barely registers on the radar of news-hungry Atlantans. A search reveals she’s not much to speak of, compared to our favorite middle Olsen brother. She has private social media profiles, and her articles from the Gazette don’t link to her personal life. She’s plain and, well, boring, honestly.

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