Southern Heartbreaker (Charleston Heat 4)

Eva searches my eyes. A pulse of raw need passes between us.

“We good?” she asks softly.

I nudge my nose against hers. “We’re good. But before we engage in any funny business, I need to know what went down on your blog—how your readers responded to the news that you have to push the book back.”

“They were disappointed.” Eva swallows. “Honestly, though? I was completely overwhelmed by the outpouring of understanding and support I got when I explained what happened. I was so worried about everyone abandoning me, but turns out I’m not the only one struggling to balance a career with family. It’s helped me bond with so many readers in a new way.”

I nod. “I won’t say that’s awesome, because I can only imagine how tough delivering that news must’ve been. But I’m glad the outcome wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

“Me too. And how crazy is this? I actually got a big new sponsor for the blog out of the whole debacle. It’s a kids’ toy company, of all things. They make these adorable wooden play kitchens and food sets. Having their sponsorship money will definitely help things on the financial front—you know, help tide me over until my new release date.”

“I’m so happy for you, E.” I hook my finger in the front of her shirt. “If you’re not feeling up to it—”

“I’m feeling up to it,” she says, arching her back slightly so my finger meets with the curve of her breast.

My dick leaps. The oven dings, ready for the pizzas to go in.

“Wanna watch some porn?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“Perfect. Figure we can watch that, do our thing, then maybe put on The Office if we’re still awake. In the meantime, I’ll put in the pizzas—according to the box, they only take fifteen minutes. You go get cozy on the couch. My laptop should be in there.”

Eva grins, straightening. “On it.”

We both look up at a muffled wail. My phone is lit up on the counter with a black and white image of Bryce sitting up in her bed, a big old frown on her face.

“Shit,” I say. “Mind putting in the pizzas? I’ll be right back—”

“No.” Eva shakes her head as she sips her drink, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You stay here. Enjoy your drink. I got this.”

My heart swells. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” she replies. “I have some more apologizing to do.”

A few beats later, her voice sounds over the monitor.

“Hi sweetheart! Oh my goodness, look at you—oh, you poor thing, come here, I think we both need a hug right now.”

Can’t help it. I grab my phone and watch as Eva takes my daughter into her arms, rocking her side to side. She presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Miss Evaaaa,” Bryce is wailing, clinging to Eva like her life depends on it. “I missssed yooouuu.”

“Aw, I missed you too. So very much, Bryce. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here. Truly, deeply sorry, sweetheart. I never want to be away from you like that again, all right?”

Bryce’s wailing stalls, then stops. “All right.”

“Life wasn’t the same without our pizza nights, was it?”

My daughter wipes her nose on Eva’s shoulder, probably leaving a nice, thick trail of snot there. I wince. Eva grins.

“No,” Bryce agrees. “Can we do it tomorrow?”

“I would love that. You know what else we can do?”

“What?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll make tomorrow a special Bryce day.”

Bryce’s eyes go wide. “Yes!”

“I knew you’d like that idea.”

“Miss Eva, I love it.”

My heart just about melts.

“But you have to get a good night’s sleep so you have enough energy for all the fun we’re going to have together.”

Bryce nods again. “Okay. But first will you read me a book?”

“Of course,” Eva says, laughing as she turns on the light beside Bryce’s bed.

I find myself laughing, too. My daughter is ever the negotiator.

I pop the pizzas into the oven and listen to Eva reading a Dr. Seuss book. My daughter snuggled into her side, the two of them looking like they’ve been reading bedtime stories together forever.

Not gonna lie, y’all, I tear up a little bit.

Twenty minutes later, I’m the one snuggled up with Eva. Bryce nodded off halfway through the book, so we’re safe to engage in adult activities (albeit quietly).

The coffee table in front of us is littered with paper plates, half-empty whiskey sours, and my laptop. Some of my favorite porn is cued up. I hit play.

It’s not a fancy night out. It’s not wild fun, the two of us grinding at a bar to Petey Pablo while the DJ goes to town on his electronic clarinet. Although I’m sure there will be more of that in the future.

It’s just us, and frozen pizza, and some slow-mo foreplay between a ripped dude in a suit and another dude dressed puzzlingly, yet convincingly, as a wizard.