Cowboy boots? Check.
DKNY cut-off jean skirt? Check.
Burberry string bikini? Check.
Four bottles of Chablis in my laptop case? Check.

I’m flying to Birmingham (for the 3rd time) to be with a man–a Southern man. A very Southern man, mind you. He was my 4th grade date to the Camp Beckwith summer dance and, somehow, we reconnected after fifteen years. The last person I imagined meeting on my Florida summer vacation was a college-football lovin,’ NASCAR watchin,’ Appalachicola oysters slurpin,’ handsome, kind, generous man from my pre-pubescent past.

But, I did.
And, something’s come over me.
Is it the damn Alabama heat… or is this love?

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