Southern Hospitality
“Muttering under his breath, he began pacing the length of Tory’s living room again. Where was she? It was almost seven o’clock. She couldn’t still be at the shop. He gave vent to his frustration with a few choice words.
The day had been a total disaster as far as he was concerned—from the moment he woke up around eleven o’clock. He hated sleeping late, especially when it meant he’d missed catching Tory before she’d gone out. His mood wasn’t improved by only remembering bits and pieces of the ride home the previous night. The warmth of the car was relaxing after the hours spent outdoors had taken their toll, and he’d fallen asleep. What a way to impress the woman he loved.
Was Tory being elusive because of something he’d said during the ride? He didn’t remember much after asking about her fiancé, except her nudging him awake and shuffling up to bed. He’d been one step behind her all day, just missing her at the shop and returning to the house to discover she’d gone out again.
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