Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

Either way, I ain’t saying no to Gracie Jackson.

“All right,” I said. “Lemme take you out on a date, then. Show you my favorite spots. Show you around the farm. But on one condition.”

She smiles, and I swear my heart stops beating for a minute.

“What’s that?”

“You spend the night this time.”

Her smile broadens. “Deal. But only if you spend the night here.”

“Right now?” I say, pulling back in surprise.

She nods. “Right now.”

“Wow. Lots of firsts tonight.”

“Hey.” She shrugs. Fucking adorable. “Maybe I wanna try this whole making love thing again.”

“I was that good, huh?”

“I was that good.”

I kiss her.

Maybe it’s a reckless kiss. Maybe it isn’t.

But I’m sure as hell gonna do it again. And again and again. Until she leaves me or we burn each other to the ground or global warming ends life on this earth as we know it.

“Yeah you were good. Better than that. The best,” I say.

I never been a liar. Tonight’s no exception.Chapter TwentyLuke“Jesus fuck, Luke, are you whistling?”

I glance up from the crate of watermelons I just dropped on the counter in the kitchen at The Pearl. Eli is looking at me like I got a dick growing out of my forehead—with deeply confused, unadulterated disgust.

I hook my thumbs through my belt loops and smile proudly. I’m being a total ass preening like this, but I can’t help it.

“Sure am. It’s Shania Twain. You recognize the song?”

“Beat off,” he says, sidling up beside me to survey the melons. “I know what this means, by the way.”

“The song is ‘You’re Still the One’. Total Shania sleeper, but probably my favorite,” I say. “Anyway. Tell me—what does me showing up on a Saturday afternoon whistling mean?”

He shoots me a dark look. “Please. No details. I don’t need to hear the specifics of you…doing whatever it is you’re doing with my sister.”

My pulse jumps at the mention of Gracie. For half a second a shadow moves over the brightness rising in my chest. We still have a lot to figure out.

But last night was fucking fantastic. And this morning—

Lordy, it was even better. We made love a handful of times between when we got to her condo and when I left a few hours ago. Also checked that sixty-nine line item off her bucket list. Played a fun little game of just the tip, butt stuff edition, too.

My dick is sore, and I am fucking exhausted.

Worth it.

She’s due at the farm tonight at six. I glance at the clock above a row of lowboys that line the opposite wall. Only three hours, twenty-four minutes aaaand eight seconds to go.

“You know I ain’t never been one to kiss and tell,” I say, unhooking my thumbs to slide my hands in my pockets. I lean against the door jamb, crossing one ankle over the other as I watch Eli lift a watermelon out of the crate and set it on a cutting board. “But I want you to know that Gracie and I are having a real good time together. She’s—E, she’s everything.”

Eli grabs a humungous knife and wipes it slowly on a towel. Eyes on me the whole time.

He’s never been known for his subtlety.

“Gracie is special. I’m not just sayin’ that because I’m her brother and I’m proud as hell of her. I’m sayin’ it because it’s true. Yeah, she’s successful. But she’s also a good fuckin’ person. She gives a shit. And she deserves someone who’s as decent and as big hearted as she is.”

I blink. How did he—

Shit, he’s giving me advice I needed but didn’t know how to ask for.

He’s pointing out all the things Gracie girl is on the inside. Still acknowledging all the amazing things she is on the outside, too.

Just focusing on the deep stuff. The stuff that, like she said, really matters.

“I’m tryin’ to be that man,” I say.

He grunts, slicing the watermelon clean in half. Inside is bright pink and perfectly juicy. Just like Gracie.

I blink, trying to blot out the image of her on her hands and knees this morning, pussy spread wide in front of me as I slipped my fingers into her from behind.

I can’t think about that shit when I’m in Elijah’s kitchen. It’s disrespectful.

Still. That image sticks around for another heartbeat. Too fucking sweet to let go.

“You bein’ good to her?” he asks, glancing up from the melon. “Y’all not breaking each other’s hearts? ’Cause I know y’all want different things out of this…little arrangement you got goin’ on.”

I nod. “We’re working on it, yeah. I was up front with her about my intentions. I told her I wanted a relationship, and she said she’d keep an open mind about it.”

He slices the melon into quarters. Then eighths. “Is she? ’Cause she’s gotta be good to you, too. I told her as much.”

“She’s been real good to me.”