Southern Perceptions

Southern Perceptions - Part 26

The warm, sunny morning came with great expectations and even greater concerns. Today could be the day, the day that revealed if Dalton and I had a future together, not that I had a clear idea of our future. Nonetheless, my hopes were high as I got dressed and headed downstairs.

The scrumptious aroma of bacon and eggs floated through the air as I entered the kitchen. Gage, nose-deep in his latest comic book, was propped up at the table while mom fried bacon and prepped toast simultaneously. She looked up from the platter of bacon she had just sat on the kitchen counter and smiled. "Well, don't you look chipper?"

"Huh," I mumbled, distracted by thoughts of spending the entire day with Dalton.

Sure, there was a potential downside, a chance of finding out that he had no choice but to participate in the cotillion and that we could never be together, but I chose not to reflect on that.

"You're beaming from ear to ear," my mom replied. She always noticed the little things; that was one of her best traits.

I didn't even know I was smiling until she pointed it out. I quickly tried to think of an appropriate response. "Oh, I guess I slept well." Lame.

Taking in my fully dressed frame, her eyebrow lifted. "Hmm, so where are you off to so early?" She walked over and sat a glass of orange juice in front of Gage.

"Dalton's going to show me around town." I hopped up on the kitchen counter and grabbed a warm strip of bacon from the platter, trying really hard to hold my composure and act indifferently about the whole situation.

"Yeah, sure he is," Gage popped off mockingly.

I glared at him briefly and then directed my attention back to my mom. "Is that okay?"

Ignoring Gage's pesky little comment, she returned to the counter. "Well, I don't see why not. I'm just glad to see that you're in better spirits."

Shooting Gage a condescending smirk, I cheerfully hopped down from the counter. "Thanks, Mom! I won't be out late." And I was out the front door.

Eager to start the day, I promptly headed in the direction of the plantation, making it only halfway down our drive before seeing Dalton's truck barreling my way. A rush of adrenaline surged through me, instantly giving me tingles. Isn't it crazy how quickly things change? How perceptions change? For instance, how the sight of that ugly rust bucket used to give me tingles, but in a completely repulsive way?

Dalton slowly pulled up beside me.

"Howdy ma'am, need a ride?" he asked with a mischievous grin, leaning across the passenger seat. His intentional southern drawl made me laugh.

As I walked towards the truck, he propped open the door and patted the passenger's seat.

"Is this the part where you call me darlin'?" I joked as I hopped up into the truck.

No, but it is the part where I ask you if you would like to grab a bite to eat." He studied the empty space between us and continued, "And where I politely inform you that I don't bite."

Noting his not-so-subtle hint, I smiled and happily slid across the bench seat, swiftly closing the gap between us. His stare was so inviting. How could I possibly resist?"

"Aww, that's much better. So I thought we could stop in at Lou's for breakfast. They have some of the best grits in town." Dalton winked playfully. "Next to Mrs. June's that is."

I wrinkled my nose at the thought; the taste wasn't all that bad, I just couldn't quite get over the gritty texture.

"Sure, as long as they don't use roadkill as center pieces." I joked back cleverly.