Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

He continues to wipe his hands on the towel.

“She already told me.”

My pulse skips. I wrinkle my brow “Told you what?”

“Don’t you dare play fuckin’ dumb with me.” Eli growls. He jerks his head toward the doors that lead to his backyard. “Outside. Now.”

Blinking in confusion—what the hell did Gracie tell him? Did I sleepwalk to her house last night and confess my feelings like some desperate, somnambulant asshole?—I do as he tells me and head out back, sliding my keys into my front pocket.

I take a seat on the wooden bench beside his herb garden. I can’t help dipping my hand down and running my fingers through the wiry oregano he’s got growing. Needs more sun and less water, but when I bring my fingers to my nose, the smell is still pungently sweet.

Another pungent smell fills my head—tobacco. I turn to see Elijah standing in the grass, cheeks blown out as he releases a small cloud of smoke. He’s got a Cohiba, his favorite kind of Cuban cigar, clamped between his teeth.

He’s looking at me.

“I’m serious,” I say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He takes a seat in one of the wooden chairs opposite me. One eye screwed shut against the late morning sunlight that slants into the yard.

I notice he hasn’t offered me a cigar, like he usually does.

F-u-u-u-u-c-k.

“You don’t have any idea what Grace asked me just now?” he says.

I shake my head. “I swear to you, E, I got no clue.”

I’m curious as hell, though.

Elijah takes a draw on his cigar. Lets out more smoke. Plucks it from his mouth.

“How ’bout you tell me what you came to say first,” he replies, draping his arm across the back of the chair beside his. “Then I’ll tell you what Gracie asked. If I feel like it.”

He’s not wearing a shirt. Never does.

I’m bigger than Elijah. Working on the farm plus regular workouts at the gym have kept me in decent shape.

Still. Man’s got some muscle on him. He would do real damage if he chose to.

I take a breath through my nose. Let it out.

“Okay. Sure. Yeah. Well.” I clear my throat into my fist. Force myself to look him in the eye. No good way to tell your best friend you’ve been crushing on his sister for ten years and now you’re ready to make your move. Best to just come out with it.

“I’d like to take Gracie out. Date her. Do things the right way. Take it slow. Because, uh…” God damn it. “Because I have a thing for her—a big thing, Elijah. A real thing that I’ve never acted on before because the timing was never right. Your sister is special. She’s smart, and she’s beautiful, and she’s down to earth. I fuckin’ adore her. Have since the day I met her at your Mama’s house back in Aiken. I’d like to take her out and, God willin’, grow something real with her. But I won’t do a thing until I have your approval.”

I feel like my heart is liable to beat itself right out of my ears.

My keys poke through my pocket into my thigh.

Eli is still looking at me. His brow is furrowed. Eyes lit up with something that looks a lot like confusion.

After a minute of interminable silence, he spears a hand through his hair and looks away, muttering, “What the fuck is goin’ on today?”

“What does that mean?”

“Means I’m confused.” His head swings back toward me, and he spears me with a glare as he leans forward. Puts the cigar in his mouth, inhales, takes it out. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. I could tell y’all were feelin’ each other at Olivia’s birthday party a few weeks ago. That part of the attraction I get. But here’s the part I don’t get—you’re telling me you want somethin’ serious with her. You. Luke Rodgers. The guy who gets around and likes his fun and has a Facebook fan page dedicated to his dick.”

“Maybe I’ve—”

“Changed your tune.” He falls back.

“Something like that.” I scrunch my brow. “Yeah. Things are goin’ good for me, E. Now that I’ve got the farm, I’ve been thinkin’ about settling down. Growin’ my veggies and maybe a family, too.”

“Jesus Christ. What a fuckin’…Jesus.”

“What?” I say, starting to panic. “I’m sorry I never told you. I don’t know what my thinkin’ was, but I regret it, and I’m sorry. I swear to you I never laid a finger on Gracie. I got nothin’ but respect for your sister. My intentions always been honorable toward her.”

Even if some downright dirty fantasies have cropped up in tandem with those intentions.

Y’all, I’m only human.

“I wish you’d told me. But that’s not what I’m upset about,” Eli says.

“Then tell me what’s bothering you so I can fuckin’ fix it.”