Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

“All right,” he says against my throat. “But first, lemme return the favor. Lemme have you, Grace. All of you.”

Like he even needs to ask.

I nod. Yes yes yes, I tell him.

He takes me home and lays me down and doesn’t let me go until the very last minute.Chapter Twenty-SevenLukeThere is no routine for Gracie and I to settle into over the next week. We’re both busy as hell. I’ve got the farm to look after, research to do, half a dozen meetings—venture capital folks, marketing teams, my insurance agent. Gracie’s running around prepping for the grand re-opening on Saturday.

But I’m heartened by the fact that we somehow make it work. There’s only one day we don’t see each other.

The rest, we do.

Gracie drives out to Wadmalaw a couple times. Answers emails from my kitchen table while I fix us some dinner. I meet her downtown for lunch one afternoon after wrapping up some meetings. Another night I meet her at Holy City Roasters. We take a meandering walk back to her place, where I tear off her clothes and fuck her right there on the table in her entry hall because I’m an animal and I cannot for the life of me keep my hands off her.

That’s also the night we finally check that anal line item off her list. I’m pleased to say Gracie enjoyed it. A lot, if her multiple orgasms were any indication.

We’re together as much as we can be. Sleepovers. Showers. Pre-dawn oral sex marathons.

And still I hunger for her. All day. All the time. When she’s not with me, I feel like a piece of me is missing. Like I’m down a lung or a leg or something.

It’s a sickness.

It’s exactly what I asked for. I finally understand what Gracie meant when she said she was ravenous. That’s how I feel about her.

It’s strange and wonderful. So wonderful I stop thinking about that damn Venn diagram—the one that shows just how different my world is from Gracie’s. Yeah, I don’t really see all that much of her world over the course of the week. We’re too busy devouring each other to socialize much.

But we are making it work. We’re finding a literal middle ground between Wadmalaw and downtown. Makes me think when the time comes we’ll find some social common ground, too.

Because I want that. I want it so bad I ache with it.

Maybe those dreams of babies and farmers’ markets and forever aren’t as far off as I was starting to think they were.* * *Still.

I’m feeling some nerves as I head into town for Gracie’s grand opening. Nerves I haven’t felt since I was on the bag back in my major league days in Chicago.

But those were good nerves. These—

These don’t feel so good.

It’s a beautiful summer night. Sky wide open as I cross the Ravenel Bridge. I picked up Mama and Gwen from their place at the beach, and they insisted on taking the bridge so they could see the sun set over Charleston Harbor.

View is nice. Water lit up like fire, horizon painted a bright rainbow of reds and pinks that fade to purple at the edges.

I got Trisha playing. Hoping it will ease these nerves. I just got this bad feeling—

“So you and Gracie,” Mama says, nudging me with her elbow. “Y’all are makin’ it official tonight, huh?”

I tug a hand through my hair. It gets stuck. I forgot I used some product to tame it tonight—don’t usually do that anymore.

I untangle my fingers. Change lanes. Exit’s up ahead.

“I guess so,” I reply. “We been official for a bit already.”

“We love her,” Gwen says.

“Love her,” Mama adds, clapping her hands before rubbing them together. “I’ve been waiting years for y’all to get together. I don’t mean to put pressure on y’all or anything—”

“No pressure,” Gwen says.

“—But I would love me some grandbabies. Has she put your zucchini in her muffins yet?”

I jerk the steering wheel a little too hard, making my truck shudder.

“My—what?”

Mama and Gwen share a knowing glance.

“Yeah she has,” Gwen says.

“Oh yeah. Bet she loves his produce somethin’ fierce.” Mama puts her hand on my arm. “Baby, I’m so glad we decided not to get you circumcised—”

“Y’all, please stop,” I say, taking the Morrison Drive exit ramp. Leave it to my mamas to steer a nice conversation in the direction of dicks. “My produce and Gracie’s…baked goods are none of your business. She’s my girlfriend, I care a lot about her, and I want tonight’s opening to be everything she’s dreamed of and more. Which means y’all can’t be running around makin’ everyone feel uncomfortable with your vegetable innuendos, all right?”

Mama and Gwen just look at me. Blinking.

They’re both smiling.

“He’s smitten,” Gwen says.

Mama nods. “Bless his heart, he’s in love, isn’t he?”

“Aw, yeah he is.”

“We won’t say a thing, baby,” Mama says, doing a zipping motion across her lips.