Southern Hearts (Southern Love Series) Read online

  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

  Chapter One

  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 h
is 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.

  Chapter Two

  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.

  Chapter Three

  Austin sat on a bale of hay. Today was a beautiful day in Dallas to sit on the ranch and write songs for his upcoming album. It had been exactly three days since he had mentioned to Rebecca about Southern Rose catering their wedding. She was still giving him attitude about the idea. He didn't understand her objections. It wasn't like he was asking to serve pickled pigs feet and chitterlings at the wedding.

  "Austin?" Rebecca called his name.

  He looked up from his notepad to see her walking over to him wearing a Prada skirt and high heels that she could barely walk in. He tried not to laugh as Rebecca walked like a penguin. Getting up from the bale of hay, he walked over to her. He sensed by the way she was walking that it would take her forever to make it to the barn.

  "Rebecca, you need to change your attire on the ranch," he said, stifling a laugh. "What's wrong with what I have on?" She did a slow
twirl for him.

  He shook his head. Talking to Rebecca was like talking to a wall. There was no point in telling her anything, because she wouldn't listen anyway. "Anyways, what's up?"

  "I decided that you can have your southern cuisine, if it's going to make you happy."

  Austin didn't like how she said it. She was treating him like a little boy who wanted a toy in a store. "Well, I appreciate that."

  "But there is absolutely no way I want to be a part of planning the menu." She flipped her shoulder-length hair back.

  He looked at her. Rebecca had a tendency to pout when she didn't get her way.

  "All right," he said. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me? I'm pretty sure that Chef Rue will be able to create an additional menu for our guests to choose from."

  "Sorry, baby, no can do." She kissed his cheek. "I have a spa date with Mother."

  "Enjoy the spa," Austin said as he watched Rebecca walk gingerly back to the main house in her ridiculous shoes.

  Taking his phone off the clip of his belt and the business card out of his pocket, he dialed the number for Southern Rose.

  "Thank you for calling Southern Rose. This is Farrah."

  "Hi, Farrah. This is Austin." For the first time in his life, Austin was tongue-tied. Her soft, feminine voice sounded relaxing and intriguing.

  "Hi! How are you?" she said cheerfully.

  "I'm okay." He sat down back down on the bale of hay. "How are you?"

  "I'm okay. Thanks for asking." She paused. "What can I do for you today?"

  "I wanted to make a consultation for the wedding and the dinner event I'm hosting." He wondered if she smiled when she talked and was she just happy all the time.

  "Sure. Do you have a date in mind?"

  "Are you available today?" he asked.

  "Give me one second," she said as she put him on hold.

  Austin could hear her laughing in the background. For some reason, her laughter was familiar like he had heard it before.