Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

Luke and I have our traditions. Among them getting banged up when we’re having girl problems. Nothing like Fireball and fried food to clear the mind. I don’t necessarily approve of blacking out. But if blacking out means forgetting Olivia for a minute, a second, an hour—means making a light bulb go off that might help me win her over…

Well.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.* * *The bartender, Jake, pours Luke and I a shot of Fireball. Then he pours one for himself and holds it up.

“Thanks for stopping by tonight, Chef,” he says.

I pick up my shot glass and touch it to his. “Thanks for helping us get fucked up.”

“It’s an honor,” Jake says solemnly. He knocks back his shot.

I do the same. It’s been a while since I had Fireball. It’s somehow way worse and way better than I remember. The sticky sweet cinnamon liquor burns its way down my throat, leaving an astringent, slightly spicy trail of warmth in its wake.

I cover my mouth with my fist to hide a gag.

“Oh, God,” Luke says, wincing. “We’re too old for this shit.”

“Yeah, but that means we’re old enough to know the lyrics to almost every damn song those guys’re gonna play.” I gesture to Buns ’n Roses, a band of middle aged, man-bunned dudes who are setting up on the other side of the patio. Best eighties cover band in town, hands down.

It’s one of the reasons we chose to come to the The Spotted Wolf tonight, my favorite dive bar downtown. Granted, it’s gotten less dive-y as of late. But the crowd, the drinks, and the music are still on the right side of skeevy, and the patio is the best in town. It’s actually the hollowed out basement of an ancient mansion that used to occupy the site. Original brick arches are open to the night sky; strands of Edison bulbs form a kind of open-air ceiling.

“Fingers crossed they play some MJ.” Luke gestures to a tall blonde in a far corner. “Ten bucks says that girl gets down to ‘Billie Jean’.”

I hold out my hand. “I’ll take that bet.”

“Done.” Luke shakes my hand, then nods at Jake for another round.

The second shot goes down easier than the first. I roll back my shoulders. Roll my head, releasing the tension in my neck. I catch a woman, cute and busty, checking me out. She smiles.

I blink, waiting for the familiar tingle of interest.

None comes.

I turn back to Luke, bewildered. Been a long ass time since one girl ruined me for all the others.

“So, Olivia,” Luke says. Man’s got an uncanny ability to read my thoughts. “I take it you haven’t figured out her story yet.”

Grabbing the Bud Light Jake slides across the bar, I take a long pull.

“Nope,” I say. “Not for lack of tryin’.”

Luke sips his beer and meets my eyes. “Ever consider that maybe she’s just not that into you? Meanin’ no offense.”

I raise one shoulder in a half shrug. “Could be. But I just get this feeling about her. The way she looks at me. Smiles at me. The way she writes—”

“She writes?”

“Yep. Romance. Smart, sexy, hot romance.”

Luke takes a swallow of beer, eyes suddenly wide. “Go on.”

“I could go on for hours,” I reply. “But suffice it to say I fuckin’ love her writing. Writing that she’s sharing with me. No one else. Just yesterday she came over, and we talked for pretty much the whole goddamn morning about her book, about other books, her life. I swear to God she was gonna kiss me at the end. I could see it in her eyes—how bad she wanted to do it.”

“But she didn’t,” Luke says, furrowing his brow.

I shake my head, taking another pull from my bottle. “Nope. It’s like—almost like she’s holding back. Fighting it.”

“And you made it clear you wanted her to plant one on you,” he says.

“Just short of puckerin’ up, hell yeah. I was looking into her eyes. She’s got these gorgeous blue eyes, Luke.” I shake my head again. “She called me a friend. But I want to be more than that, and I think she does, too.”

“Huh.” Luke takes a thoughtful sip. “I get that this girl is special. But the fact that you’re wantin’ her to kiss you so bad—that you’re so in your head about this girl—I don’t know. Makes me think it has something to do with your restaurant being in trouble.”

“What?” I pull back, feeling a rush of indignation. “Writing’s been on the wall for a while now at The Jam. You know I’ve made my peace with it.”

Luke cocks an eyebrow. “You really gonna tell me you’re feelin’ just fine about a restaurant you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into failing? Never mind the fuck ton of money y’all are gonna lose. And all those jobs…c’mon, E. This time last year, you stood in this very spot and told me The Jam was the restaurant you’ve always wanted to open.”