Note: I do not own Hart of Dixie or any of its characters. This is just for fun. Ridiculously fluffy fun.
Seemed like all the girls in town wanted Wade Kinsella, but Lemon Breeland wasn't one of them. Well, not since sophomore year at Bluebell High anyway.
Back then she had been still 15 and keenly aware of each and every hint of boy that came within a hundred yards of her. And Wade was a junior, almost a full year older than her and with a reputation far beyond his years.
He'd always had that million-watt smile that'd make a girl's knees go weak and cheeks flush pink. The hair that made you desperately want to run your fingers through it, no matter the fact that it was the middle of second-period Geography and everyone would see. And when he had turned sixteen and started driving that 1969 Chevy to school, tan arm dangling nonchalantly out the window? Well, it made a well brought-up girl want to ignore every warning her momma ever gave her about bad boys. A single sidelong glance could fuel a girl's daydreams for weeks.
Wade was fully aware of the power he held, and made good use of it. He did a number on every girl. For a time, at least.
Lemon was no exception. She was fully under the Wade spell, giggling like an idiot every time she made eye contact across a hallway. But sophomore year was when this particular girl grew up fast. Lemon's mom left just two days after her sixteenth birthday with a note that didn't even fill the post-it that it was written on. "Darling- Have to leave for a while. Be good. Love you. -Mom"
She saw the pain behind her dad's every move in the next weeks and knew that "a while" might as well have read, "forever." Her mom was gone and it was Lemon's job to be the woman in the family. So she left her unfulfilled teenage fantasies (including the one involving a naughty encounter in that Chevy) behind and set her sights on becoming the lady her mom proved not to be-Lemon would be perfect. And perfect meant a man that was perfect and could give her the life she needed-he'd have to be a doctor like her daddy, or perhaps a lawyer. Wade Kinsella was almost certainly gonna grow up to be a mechanic or a gas station attendant, so she wrote him out of her plan all those years ago.
These days, Lemon Breeland had her perfection lined up. She was about to marry George Tucker, she kept a perfectly-run, white-picket house and led the ladies of Bluebell in their charitable works. She definitely did not want Wade Kinsella. Then why in heaven's name was the picture of Wade staring at another girl's behind getting her all riled up? Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if it weren't a no-good New York behind.
It wasn't just that he was looking at her. That was bad enough, but Wade looked at pretty much every woman he came upon, and slept with a good number of them, too. It was just that the last time he had stared at a woman with this particular look in his eyes, he hadn't just slept with her-he had married her. He used to stare at his (now ex-) wife like she was the most precious thing in the world. Like she was water and he was a man dying of thirst. She had been the only one that brought it out of him-that mix of need, love, and desire. It had been obvious that he wouldn't accept anything less than marrying that girl, and he had done just that-even if their marriage had lasted barely two years.
But now he had the exact same stare for Zoe Hart. A complete outsider. Who did she think she was, coming into town and snapping up every man's attention? Lavon, George... Even Lemon's dad had less time for his daughter now that so much of his attention was focused on his quibbles with the new Doctor in town. And now Wade. Lemon wondered if "the look" she saw on his face was as obvious to everyone else. She glanced around the bar and saw the smug, knowing looks on everybody's face that said that it was plain as day, and sighed into her drink.
Lemon didn't usually frequent the Rammer Jammer outside of important town occasions. She was quite happy staying within the cozy dominion that was her home, her daddy's place, and the ladies' society meetings. A proper, soon-to-be-married Southern gal like herself didn't put herself in the position of making a public spectacle of herself at the local bar. It wasn't right. Except for tonight. After a day when she had found her fiancé enjoying coffee with Zoe ("It was a coincidental meeting, Lemon, I swear. No need to take anything from it.") and her sometimes lover Lavon Hayes walking Zoe to lunch ("Like you have any right to make noise about the society I keep."), Lemon had felt the need for the appreciation of a bar full of admiring men, even if their attentions were heavily hazed with alcohol.
So she was in the Rammer Jammer. Unfortunately, so was Zoe. And doubly unfortunately, the bar was full of people too amused by the flirtation going on between the bartender and the doctor to give two hoots about primly attractive Lemon. Thus she sat on a stool by her lonesome, drinking some Bacardi something (her fourth, or perhaps fifth?) and watching Wade and Zoe dance around their attraction.
"Right. The day I feel attracted to you is the day I apply for permanent residency in a nice padded room." At the outburst, Lemon looked up to see Zoe staring challengingly at Wade, who was leaning on the bar across from her, dishcloth over his shoulder and teasing smirk on his face.
Lemon snorted-unladylike and far too noisy, as a bunch of heads turned her way, including Wade and Zoe. With a rather drunken wave, Lemon fought down her giggles and stared determinedly at the little bowl of peanuts in front of her until she was pretty sure everyone had started ignoring her again. A quick peek up confirmed that the couple suffering from mutual denial was back in the spotlight-each barb and raised eyebrow from the pair drawing amused smiles from the townspeople who could sense the inevitable.
Suddenly unable to handle being part of the audience to Zoe's not-all-that-slow and absolutely sure conquest of yet another Bluebell man, Lemon managed to throw a few bills on the bar and slip off her stool. She wove towards the door, stumbling slightly every few steps. Once outside in the warm night air, she braced herself against the wall and pulled off her heels, too difficult to manage with the amount of rum in her system. Taking deep breaths, she leaned back in the shadow of the overhang and tried to clear her mind of the haze of alcohol and annoyance.
Not long after she began to feel lucid and calm again, the Rammer Jammer door banged open and Zoe flew out, quickly followed, or more to the point chased, by Wade. Just a few steps into the parking lot, Zoe whirled, causing Wade to stutter to a stop so he didn't bowl her over.
"You are the most...most...frustrating person I've ever had the misfortune to deal with!" Her words had bite, though Lemon could tell Zoe too had a few too many drinks running through her veins.
"And you are the most stubborn! Let me drive you home."
"So you can get me alone in your car again? Nuh-uh."
"You're drunk." The accusation was gentle coming out of Wade's mouth.
"All the more reason not to put myself in a position for you to take advantage of me."
Wade snorted. "Me? Take advantage of you? Way I remember it, you were the one crawling into my lap the last time."
Zoe shut up and looked sideways, bashfully avoiding Wade's heated gaze.
Wade smiled, his eyes heavy with desire, but spoke in a calm, coaxing drawl. "Come on, Doc, it's just a ride. I solemnly swear to keep my hands on the wheel."
"10 and 2?"
"Cross my heart." He flashed that slow, easy smile-the one that had been winning him the heart of every girl since high school-and Lemon could tell Zoe was lost.
The pair got to Wade's car and he opened the passenger door to help her into the seat. It was painfully clear to their observer that his hand lingered on her hip a moment too long and that she grasped his shoulder tighter than was necessary. Anyone could read the need in their touches, their shared desire to keep contact.
Lemon could see the inevitable and knew that there was a real big love already growing between the pair. Zoe Hart had snared the devotion of Wade Kinsella-a real Bluebell gentleman behind his bad boy looks. And Lemon hadn't felt that kind of singularly devoted, intense love from any man in a long time. George was sweet, proper, affectionate. Lavon was passionate, but fickle. No man looked at her the way Wade looked every time he saw Zoe.
So no, Lemon didn't want Wade Kinsella. But that didn't stop her from being mightily jealous of the woman who'd won his heart.