Highness (The Lonely Heart Series) by Latrivia S. Nelson Page A

the shelf.
    Geoff audibly huffed in the background.
    “Ma’am,” Michael said, using his southern accent.  “Pleasant day.”
    “Pleasant enough,” she answered, sweeping her eyes across his broad chest.
    Instantly, Michael felt cheap, like a steak on a paper plate, but he rolled with it.  “Am I in your way?” he asked.
    “No, you’re fine ,” she said with mischief in her tone.
    Geoff quickly stepped in, hitting Michael’s chest with his rolls of toilet paper. “Dear, he’s taken,” he said, baritone stern.
    Michael blinked hard, but stayed quiet.
    Geoff shrugged. “It’s a new day.  What can I say?  Find someone else to flirt with on the ass-wiping aisle.  This one is batting for the other side.”
    Michael tried hard not to laugh and dipped his head in the customary southern way and winked at her.  He rather liked playing a southern gent in his jeans, t-shirts, John Deere baseball cap and leather work boots.  He had gotten his motivation from a country music video and mimicked it down to the last detail.  And too his surprise, with his faux southern accent, his face always covered by low-brimmed hats and an absolutely 180 degree-appearance, no one anywhere had noticed who he really was.
    The woman quickly turned on her heels and threw her toilet paper in her cart leaving the men alone.
    “Now that wasn’t nice,” Michael said, returning to his shopping. 
    “We’re not here for you to go on a southern panty raid,” Geoff reminded.
    Geoff on the other hand, chose something more to his liking and closer to his true character.  Khakis, plaid button down, loafers and a smug glare that he wore better than most women wore makeup. 
    “You stick out,” Michael said, turning from the woman as she pushed her cart away to the opposite direction. 
    Geoff turned from picking out his own selection and narrowed his eyes at Michael. “Begging your pardon, your majesty…your highness…sir?”
    Michael knew the slip was more of a slap in the face as Geoff was supposed to just call him by his name, but he couldn’t help but be entertained by the fish-out-of-water experience that his friend was having.  “Michael will do just fine,” he answered with a smirk. He looked Geoff up and down with disapproval. “And you stick out in that get up. You look like a Brooks Brothers ad.  What happened to jeans and simple t-shirt?”
    “Based upon the love for camouflage in this community, I think that anything goes,” Geoff said under his breath.  He picked up a 12-pack roll of Charmin and looked at it. 
    “Oh, I like that brand,” Michael said, setting his brand down. “It’s supposed to be softer for your bum.”
    Geoff raised a brow.  “I’m only getting it because it’s on sale.”
    “So the little bears don’t do anything for you?” Michael joked.  
    ***
    As soon as Michael and Geoff arrived back to their new little house from Wal-Mart, they saw Mr. Jernigan checking the mailbox at the end of the drive.  He waved them down as they approached and fiddled with his hearing aid before the conversation could commence. 
    Dressed in tattered denim overalls and flannel shirt, he bent in to their brand new Ford F-150 and smiled at both men. 
    “How are you boys doing today?” he asked, scanning both of them, still not sure if they were a couple or not, despite their denial, especially the quiet English one, Geoff.
    “Doing well,” Michael answered first from the passenger side.  He dipped his cap in Jernigan’s direction.
    Geoff simply nodded, refusing to take part in any southern gentile behaviors that Michael had so quickly adopted.
    Mr. Jernigan swatted a bug in front of his leathery tan face and hid his tired green eyes from the sun.  “The post lady dropped off the wrong mail again.  I was hoping that one of you might run this over and put it into my neighbor’s box.  She’s not doing well. So, I don’t expect her to come down here and get it herself.”
    “Of course,”