Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

Are you ever ready to look yourself in the eye and acknowledge who you truly are? That takes guts.

I have never been a gutsy girl. I was raised to be a good girl.

And now I’m starting to realize what a prison that has become.

I also realize I haven’t thought about Ted all that much this past week.

I glance at the pretty brick house, its doors thrown open to the morning, ahead on my right.

I’ve thought about Eli instead.

Eli and Gunnar. A chef and a fictional Earl. Both of them handsome. Dangerously talented with their hands. Smart.

Neither of them the man whose ring is sitting in my drawer.

The scent of bacon yanks me back to the present. My stomach rumbles.

Despite the crush of thoughts inside my head, I smile.

Breakfast is waiting. And I’m not going to let my confusion, my indecision, ruin a meal made by Chef Elijah Jackson.

Billy greets me when I step into the kitchen, but Eli is nowhere to be found.

There’s something warming in the oven. It smells so good it almost makes me dizzy.

I call Eli’s name, but I get no answer. I move through the house, looking left and right. Only when I look out the windows into the tiny backyard do I find him.

He’s lying in a hammock—shirtless, of course—his ankles crossed. All smooth skin. Biceps. Chest hair.

He’s reading a paperback book.

The door is open. I step out, the grass rustling beneath my feet.

When I get closer, I catch a glimpse of the cover. It’s bright yellow.

The Duke of Midnight by Elizabeth Hoyt. One of my all time favorites.

Turning a page, Eli chuckles. A low, masculine rumble.

My heart seizes inside my chest. It’s like the wind got knocked out of me, seeing this man—this gorgeous, talented, half-naked man—in a hammock reading Elizabeth Hoyt and chuckling out of sheer enjoyment.

Billy appears at my side. I pat him on the head, a silent thanks for his moral support in this moment of extreme distress brought on by too much joy and lust and longing.

“Eli,” I say, a little breathless. “What are you doing?”

He looks up from the book. His eyes, clear and warm in this light, catch on me. He smiles.

“Just brushin’ up on all the greats in your genre,” he replies. “Figure it’ll help me help you make Gunnar and Cate really shine.”

He folds down the corner of the page and closes the book, getting up.

I feel like I’m living inside a movie as I watch him stride across the lawn, bare chested and smiling and heading for me.

Holding the book he’s reading for me. To help me make my romance the best it possibly can be, because that’s my dream and he wants my dreams to come true. No matter how weird or difficult they might be.

Eli is a dream come true.

He wraps me in a hug and says my name and cracks a joke about oral sex in the nineteenth century. If I didn’t know it before, I know now that I am falling for this man.

Hard.

Fast.

I don’t want to. I didn’t mean to. But here I am, curling into his enormous arms, wanting more than anything to be with him. All day. All night.

My body leaps. My heart does, too.

Maybe I’ve taken the big leap without even knowing it. Makes sense: he’s the only person I’ve ever been able to truly be myself with.

I cling to him. Too scared and too turned on to let him go. His body feels so good against mine. So certain.

“You okay, Yankee girl?” he murmurs into my neck, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin just underneath my jaw.

A bolt of desire lands right between my legs, spreading liquid heat throughout my body.

I have never, in all my life, been as attracted to someone as I am to Eli. I always thought chemistry like this only existed in romance novels. But now I know that it’s real, I know it’s terrifying, too, and so painfully sweet part of me thinks I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Teddy and I are on a break. We agreed it was okay to be with other people. I wouldn’t be doing anything wrong by hooking up with Eli. I just—

I’m scared.

We already get along so well outside of the bedroom. What if we get along inside it, too? What if the sex is great? (I have a feeling it’d be really, really great). I’ll keep falling for him—how could I not?—and suddenly it will be the end of October, and I won’t be able to go back to Ted because I’m in love with Elijah Jackson.

Am I really ready to make that choice?

“I don’t know,” I say, more to myself than to Eli.

He holds me a little tighter. Pulls me a little closer against him.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t sound okay.”