Southern Heartbreaker (Charleston Heat 4)

“You need help?” Grey furrows his brow. “You know I’m always willing to step back up at the firm if you need me.”

I wave him off. “No fucking way. You’ve got your own family now. It’s your turn to focus on other things. Least I can do is cover for you over your paternity leave after the years you covered for me.”

“I was happy to do it.”

“Just like I’m happy to do it for you now. I’ve got it handled—just ask any of our investors or our partners or whoever. Gotta say I’m kinda nailing it. Not sleeping all that often, but I am closing deals and keeping investors very happy.”

Greyson tilts his head, giving me a look. “Cocky much?”

“Learned it from the best,” I say, giving him a look right back.

He claps me on the shoulder. “Hell yeah you did. I’m proud of you, brother. I also want you to be happy. I know I’m not officially a dad yet, but I can already tell you there’s no way you can work the way I did and have any semblance of a happy personal life. If you need time off, or more help, then ask for it. Don’t spread yourself too thin. I made that mistake for a long time, and now I seriously regret it. As much as type-A nuts like us want to think otherwise, the world won’t end if we’re not there to keep it running.”

To be honest, I don’t think I necessarily need more time off. I think I just need more time doing stuff like I did on Friday night with Eva. Fun stuff. Pointless stuff.

Stuff that energizes me.

“That’s a lot of wisdom for a sober Sunday morning,” I say, grinning.

“Shut up. You’re the one who likes that Oprah podcast.”

I scoff. “Please. The last few times I’ve been in your car, what have you had playing?”

Grey’s mouth twitches. “Super Soul Sundays.”

“I rest my case. Oprah is bomb as fuck.”

“Of course she is. And I had to earn all that wisdom the hard way. I just don’t want you to do like I did. Got it?”

“I have way too much emotional intelligence to ever do like you did.” I flip my keys, ignoring the daggers in my brother’s eyes. “But since I haven’t been on a second date in approximately fifty-seven years, do you have any brotherly wisdom to share on that subject? Obviously whatever you did with Julia worked.”

Greyson smiles. “Condoms. I suggest double bagging it, just in case. I have no regrets now about getting Julia pregnant, but…yeah. Condoms for the win.”

“Cool. My fifteen year old self will definitely take that to heart.”

“Famous last words, man.” Grey claps me on the shoulder again. “But seriously. We both know you don’t need any advice from me. You’re a good guy with a good heart. Just be yourself and have fun. Bowie helps.”

“Bowie? As in David? The amazingly awesome icon of eighties rock-pop and colored spandex?”

Grey’s smile grows wistful. “Inside joke between Julia and I.”

“I know,” I reply.

It’s his turn to wave me off. “Go. Enjoy your afternoon. We’re happy to keep Bryce for as long as you’d like. And tell Eva we said hello.”

I pull him in for a hug. Six months ago, Grey would’ve never returned the gesture. But now he’s hugging me back like he means it.

Aw, yeah. His inner softie is out in full force.

“Thanks again for taking Bryce. And for the terrible advice. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Y’all have fun. Not the clean kind. But definitely use condoms. I’ve got some in my glove box if you need—”

“That’s a definite nope.” I release him and head for the stairs. “I’ll be back by dinner. See y’all later.”

I try—and fail—not to break the speed limit on my way to the address Eva sent me. Putting my truck into park outside her apartment, I shoot her a text.Chapter ElevenEvaFord: I’m outside. No rush.

Eva: You’re early!

Ford: I have an afternoon all to myself and a cooler of beer icing down in my trunk. Also picking up a girl who knows Naughty by Nature lyrics by heart. Fuck yeah I’m early.

Eva: She sounds pretty cool.

Ford: The coolest. And the most creative. Looks equally hot touching boxes at baby showers as she does dirty dancing in dive bars.

Eva: You’re looking for a pat on the back for all that alliteration, aren’t you?

Ford: You’re the one who compared me to Shakespeare, sweetheart.

Eva: Show off.

Ford: I’m only as God made me.

Eva: Speaking of boxes…

Ford: I’m listening.

Eva: Packing a pretty sweet lunch box for us now.

Ford: I like the idea of that box. Among others.

Eva: That inner perv of yours really is alive and well.

Ford: What can I say? You bring him out to play in a way no one else has lately.

Eva: Wrong that that makes me proud?