Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

I nod. “So what’s tying you down?”

Olivia blinks.

“You know, no one’s ever asked me that question.”

I hold up the pages. “No one’s ever read your book.”

She swallows again, slowly, and rolls her lips between her teeth. “Not too long ago, if you would’ve asked me if I was tied down, I would’ve laughed in your face. I feel like I worked so hard to have it all—everything a thirty-something woman is supposed to want. Great career. Great house and car and a closet full of great clothes. And I do—did—have it. But then after a while…” Olivia shakes her head. Sighs. “I don’t know. I started to feel suffocated by all these things I was supposed to want. All these things I’d worked hard to get. I had them, and I am—was—I was proud of them. But none of it really felt right. I felt like I was living in someone else’s dream world. I think that’s because I had to hide so much of myself to fit into that world. I thought if I just tried hard enough, the person I hid would kind of just…disappear. I mean, really, who in their right mind wouldn’t want the best of everything? But I’m realizing that maybe I can’t change who I am, as much as I want to. And I really, really want to be the woman who has it all. I want it so badly I’m not sure I can let it go.”

Her voice wobbles a bit on that last sentence. I resist the urge to reach for her hand. She could probably could use a little moral support at the moment.

“Sounds a lot like expectation’s the thing that’s holdin’ you hostage,” I say, picking my words carefully. Olivia is opening up to me, and I don’t want to scare her away. “People—your parents, maybe, your peers—expect you to live a certain way. You’re wantin’ to please them, so that’s what you’ve done. You’re responsible. Practical. Dutiful. Even though deep down, you’re anything but.”

A ghost of a smile plays at Olivia’s lips. “Maybe. I don’t know if I have the balls to be anything other than responsible, though. Where I’m from, people are obsessed with keeping up with the Joneses. They don’t—they don’t value authenticity—” She shakes her head and straightens. “Anyway. Thanks for the advice about keeping things simple.”

“Olivia,” I say, spearing her with a look. “You’re changin’ the subject.”

She meets my eyes. Hers are wet. Pleading.

My heart twists.

“I’m not used to talking about this stuff with anyone, Eli. Least of all a shirtless stranger. Give me time. Please.”

I don’t wanna give her time. I want to peel back her layers and tear down her walls and get to the center of who this talented, interesting, tortured woman really is.

But that’s not my place. She’s not my girl.

Although the more I get to know her, the more I’m thinking I’d like her to be.

“Take all the time you need, Yankee girl.” I offer her a smile. “And I’m not a stranger anymore. I’m a friend, remember?”

Olivia smiles at that. Genuinely smiles.

“Yeah.” She digs her teeth into her bottom lip. Her gaze flicks to my mouth for half a heartbeat. “You’re the first friend I’ve made down here.”

I offer her a grin. “I’m honored. You’re somethin’ special, Olivia.”

I look at her. She looks at me. The space between us crackles. Begs me to make it smaller, to step forward and take her face in my hands and kiss her soft and deep and good.

She’s attracted to me. I can tell by the flicker of white hot heat in those big eyes of hers.

But she just asked for time. She’s not ready for me.

Not yet.

I stand up, gathering our plates and empty mugs.

“I gotta head over to The Jam in a bit,” I say.

Olivia walks me to the door. We pause in the threshold, awkwardly. She’s trying not to look at my chest.

Trying, and failing.

I shove my hands in the back pockets of my jeans to keep from reaching for her.

“When can I expect the next installment of Gunnar and Cate?” I ask.

That makes her grin. “I have plans to find a coffee shop and write it this afternoon.”

“Need a suggestion for a good spot?”

“I’d love one.”

“Holy City Roasters. Cute little place on Wentworth Street. Their iced coffee is second to none, and you can walk from here. I happen to know the owner—she’s my sister. Tell Gracie I sent you.”

“Your sister owns a coffee shop? How cool! Thank you for the tip.” Olivia looks up at me, suddenly shy. Before I know what she’s doing, she’s wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me into a hug. “And thank you for breakfast. And for reading my romance. And for listening to me. Basically, thanks for being such an awesome human being and letting me be myself with you.”