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Daisy
I’m glad it’s Saturday and I don’t have to work today because I’m so mad I know I’d be distracted and wouldn’t be worth a shit on the job.
I don’t know who Nick thinks he is. He just rolls into town in his super fancy car and thinks he can just snap his fingers and take over my life. He’s been bossy and domineering from the moment we met, and now he’s declaring that I’m his like I’m a possession to be owned.
Never mind that I feel a flutter in my tummy at the possessive way he’d said the words and the way his eyes looked at me when he’d said them—like I’m the most important thing in his world or something.
Maybe my body does melt for him, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that the man bulldozes over me and never stops to ask me what I want. He blackmails and commands to get what he wants.
Entitled, spoiled, rich prick.
I’m probably another fun conquest in a long line of women.
Well, I’m done caving to his demands. I’m not some little pushover who swoons for a pretty face and gives him whatever he wants.
I stalk into the house and pour myself a glass of some of Mama’s fresh lemonade. Even though it’s not even noon yet, the humidity is high today, so it’s already hot and sticky outside. Nothing is quite as refreshing as a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade on a hot day. Normally I’d go swimming in the pond on a day like today, but I’ll be damned if I willingly go anywhere near Nick or his goddamned land.
“Oh, hey, there, honey,” Mom says as she walks into the kitchen, beaming at me. She and Dad have the weekends off, and I’m glad. They both work so hard. They deserve to at least have the weekends off.
“How did last night go?” she asks me with a sly grin. “I didn’t hear you come home.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I came home, Mom.”
Her face seems to fall somewhat, and I can’t help thinking that this is all backwards. Shouldn’t my parents be berating me for staying out all night? Not encouraging me to do so? Nevermind that I’m eighteen and can technically stay out as late as I want. Living under their house with their rules, shouldn’t they still be encouraging a curfew?
Mom crosses her arms over her chest and gives me an assessing look, “You didn’t answer my question. How did it go?”
I shrug, and Mom sighs dramatically.
“What?” I ask her defensively as I place my glass of lemonade on the counter.
“Daisy Ann,” she inserts my middle name, letting me know that she means business with what she’s fixing to say. “You’ve got to give someone a chance, honey. You push away every man who’s ever tried to date you.”
“I do not,” I scoff.
She nods her head. “Yes, you do. What about Arnold?”
I give a sarcastic laugh. “He’s my boss’s son, Mom. That was hardly appropriate. Plus, I’m just not interested in him that way.”
Mom nods her head and holds up a finger. “Then, what about Pastor Don’s son? He’s been smitten with you since you were twelve.”
I wrinkle my nose up in distaste. Jason isn’t a bad-looking guy, but he just so isn’t the type of guy for me.
Mom keeps holding up fingers, ticking off the names of guys who’ve wanted to date me. I’d actually tried with some of them, but in the end, I’d always broken it off.
“Okay, okay,” I hold up my hand to stop her. “I get it, Mom. You think I’m a commitment-phone or something.”
She sighs again and looks at me like she doesn’t know what to do with me. “All I’m saying, honey, is that you need to give someone a chance. You could do a lot worse than Nick Amorini. Not only is he rich, but he seems like a respectable man. You could have a good life with him.”
Nick Amorini. I hadn’t even known his last name until now. It strikes me as odd that my parents knew his surname before I did.
Something about the name sounds familiar, though I can’t put my finger on it.
“Gee, Mom. Keep it up, and I’ll think you just want to marry me off to get me out of the house,” I try to deflect her concern with a joke.
She frowns. “You know that’s not it at all. I just want you to be happy, honey.”
I grab an apple from the fruit bowl sitting on the counter and take a bite out of it before I give her a kiss on the cheek and turn to bound up the stairs to my room. “I am happy, Mom,” I tell her as I go.
