Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

My God he looks so handsome. Standing beside his truck. Dark hair, plaid shirt. Juicy lips and beard and intelligent eyes.

My knees begin to wobble with a familiar weakness.

“I didn’t force anyone to come,” he says. “People just trust my taste. They know I read a lot. So when they asked me what great books I’ve read lately, I mentioned yours.”

I bite my lip. “You also mentioned the signing.”

His lips curl into a smirk. “Well, yeah. I had to mention the signing. Your book’s so good that I told them they’d want a signed copy. I said I had the pleasure of reading a first draft and that it was one of the best romances I’ve read. And I’ve read a lot of romance.”

His eyes flick over my body, once.

The space between us thrums.

My eyes fill with tears as a laugh escapes my lips. “Of course you have.”

“Olivia.”

Eli puts his cigar on the edge of the truck bed and takes a step toward me. My body leaps at the tidy determination of his movements. I have to look up as he approaches, tears spilling out of my eyes.

His sneakers catch in the gravel. “Please don’t cry.”

He searches my eyes. He’s so close. So, so close. I’m overwhelmed by the need to touch him. To be held by him.

“I miss you,” he says, words thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you so damn much. I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Olivia. Not for a minute. I’m still so fucking in love with you it hurts. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. I’m even sorrier about the way I behaved that day in the bathroom. You were right. I was feeling insecure after fucking up with The Jam. I was using you to kind of soothe that sting, and that wasn’t fair, and it definitely wasn’t right. I’m really sorry I didn’t trust you. I pushed you when I should have respected your wish for more time. I have no excuse—”

He doesn’t get to finish.

He doesn’t finish, because I’m stepping into Elijah. I’m taking his face in my hands and bringing his mouth down on mine. Hungry and hot and salty with his tears.

He kisses me. With all that pent up passion I adore. That light and intention.

And oh, that tongue.

My knees give out. He catches me, curling an arm around my waist and pulling me close. And then the kiss becomes his. He kisses me so hard and so well I see fireworks behind my closed eyelids.

I fist the fabric of his shirt in my hands. The joy of touching him again after not knowing I ever would is exquisite. My mind clears and my body throbs.

I feel weak with relief.

“Oh, baby,” he says, breaking the kiss. He wipes away my tears with his thumbs. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Thank you for your apology,” I say. “It means a lot.”

He nods. “I learned that I needed time, too. Time to process all the shit that went down at my restaurant. So I’ve spent the past four months trying my best to face my failures head on by myself.”

I just look at him.

“That must’ve sucked,” I say, breathless.

He laughs. “It’s been the suckiest time in my life. For a lot of reasons. But you know what? It’s supposed to be. The fact that it hurts so much is a testament to how much I love what I’m doin’ with my life. Failure’s awful. But it’s also taught me a lot. Mostly that it doesn’t last forever. And that it won’t kill me. Although it will turn me into a bourbon soaked Post Malone fanboy.”

“Post Malone?” I say, smiling.

Eli licks his lips, shaking his head. “Long story. My point is, I’m workin’ on being a better man, and I want to be that better man for you. I love you, Olivia Wilson. I wanna be the partner you deserve. I wanna make you breakfast and edit your books and roll out my mat next to yours for the rest of my life.”

“Elijah,” I whisper.

“I’m not asking you to move in with me,” he continues. “I mean, of course I’m still open to that idea. Always will be. But if you’re not ready yet, I’m totally cool with that. I just wanna be with you. Whatever that looks like. Whenever you’re ready to be with me—I’m ready, baby. I’m ready to live out our own version of happily ever after.”

My heart is stumbling around in my chest. Punch drunk on love. I rise up onto my toes and kiss Eli’s jaw, his chin. His mouth. Still bewildered that I’m in his arms again.

I inhale his scent. I inhale the knowledge that he’s changed. Not just for me. But for himself, too.

I don’t need to think about my answer. I’m certain. As certain about this man, and this new life, as I was uncertain about my previous life in New York. My gut is screaming yes. My head is screaming yes.