Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

Owning a business is not for the faint of heart.

I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It’s quarter ’til six when I grab my apron and duck behind the counter. Dylan, one of my baristas, is already here, flitting around the store as she preps for opening.

“Morning,” I say, sidling up to the massive espresso machine behind the counter. “The usual?”

“Think I need to make it a triple shot today,” Dylan says, yawning. “I was watching that show on HGTV—you know the one with the twin brothers? Anyway, I stayed up way too late wondering what a threesome would be like with them. Awkward? Awesome? Can they swing their meat hammers as well as they swing literal ones?”

I laugh, getting to work on her triple shot Americano and my iced oat milk latte (oat milk is all the rage right now for good reason). Ordinarily I wouldn’t tolerate such…er, frank discussion with an employee. But Dylan was one of the first people I hired. We’ve gotten close over the past five years, bonding over our shared obsessions with the craft of coffee and home renovation shows. She’s become one of my best baristas and closest friends.

“I bet you wouldn’t be disappointed,” I say. “They seem to be pretty passionate about everything they do.”

Dylan dumps beans into the coffee maker, the air blooming with their velvety scent. “I thought the same thing. I also thought I need to, like, get laid for real soon, because this obsession I have with those brothers is getting weird.”

I bite back a grin. “What’s wrong with weird obsessions? For a while there, I was way too into Max the Duke. But he taught me a lot. Gave me some good ideas for my real life.”

“Wait,” Dylan says, scrunching her brow. “I thought you were still into him.”

I turn away, hiding my blush as I finish making her Americano. “I am. Still into Max, I mean. Maybe not quite as much, though?”

“Gracie,” she says. I can feel her eyes on me.

Handing her the coffee, I say, “Here you go. Be careful—that’s rocket fuel.”

“Gracie,” she repeats, taking the mug. “If you’re not into Max, then who are you into?”

I look up. Meet her eyes.

A grin breaks out on her face.

“What?” I say, my face feeling all kinds of hot. So I turn to shovel some ice into my latte.

“You’re back,” she replies.

I give the glass a little swirl, watching as tendrils of espresso curl into the oat milk. “What does that mean?”

“Means you haven’t been your usual awesome self lately. I could see it in your eyes. But today…” She looks at me. “Hell, Gracie, you’re glowing. The boss I know and love is back.”

I put a hand to my face, my stomach dipping. Is it really that obvious?

Has one (admittedly incredible) sexual encounter with Luke really changed me all that much? I knew I felt pretty great for this early in the morning. But if I’m still sporting an obvious post coital glow how many hours after the fact…

What does that mean?

Be careful oh God be careful.

“Really?” I say, as much to myself as to Dylan. “I—”

We both look up at a knock on the door. Julia is there, waving at us. She’s usually the first in the door when we open at six, jonesing for her first hit of caffeine. Like me, she’s a total coffee fiend.

I’m already pouring her usual large cold brew over ice when Dylan unlocks the door.

The second Julia’s eyes are on me, she grins.

“Holy shit, you did it! And from the look of it, it was good.”

Dylan’s eyes go wide as they bounce from me to Julia and back again.

“Whoa whoa whoa. Gracie, you got laid?”

“Yeah she did,” Julia says, taking the iced coffee I hold out to her. “So I guess your brother approved of it, huh?”

I’m blinking and blushing and smiling, all at once. Dylan comes to stand beside me, the three of us making a little circle around the register.

“Approved of what?” Dylan asks.

I glance at her. “I may or may not be hooking up with Eli’s good friend. His best friend, as a matter of fact. Luke.”

“Luke Rodgers?” Dylan’s eyes are so wide now they look like they’re about to pop out of her head. “Of ‘Luke Lady Dagger’ fame? I thought that was him in here the other day.”

People in this town like to talk. Apparently nothing is off limits—not even penis size. Back before Luke bought his farm out on Wadmalaw, he spent a lot of time at bars downtown. And slowly but surely, a lot of people started talking about how well endowed he was. I don’t know who called it the Lady Dagger, but the name stuck. Someone even created a page on Facebook dedicated to it.

Now that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing said Lady Dagger in the flesh, I can attest the name is fitting.