Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

“I hate that guy,” I say, blood pressure rising. “Her ex. I ain’t never one to wish ill on another. But I can’t say I’ve never imagined feedin’ him to my brush hog. Machine would chew him up and spit him right back out in a hundred tiny, bloody pieces.”

Eli pulls his lips into an exaggerated frown and nods. Very Silvio-from-the-Sopranos.

“Farm would be a great place to hide a body. Just sayin’.”

I grin. “Just sayin’.”

“Really though. Gracie came into this thing with some pretty big trust issues. But here she is, trusting you. And that’s something, Luke. Enough to make me think y’all got a real shot at this.”

“At what?”

He reaches out. Lands a soft jab on my shoulder—the good one.

“The real thing, dummy.”

I scoff. The shadow retreats.

Still too early to tell how things will shake out. But I do want the real thing with Gracie. I wanted it before I touched her.

Now that I’ve touched her—now that I’ve spent real time with her, now that we’ve had real conversations that went beyond the usual small talk at bars and barbecues—I want her so bad I ache with it.

Common ground.

Open minds.

Trust.

We can do that.

I can do that. If Gracie wants to see more of my world, I’ll give her the best I got. Have a little fun with it while I’m at it, too. She’ll appreciate that.

I’ll show her a good time. Show her who I am and where I plan to go.

And if I get lucky, maybe—just maybe—she’ll wanna go there with me.Chapter Twenty-OneGracieJane woke the morning after the ball with a headache and a heavy heart.

It was a grey day, cold and blustery. But she needed to walk. Lick her wounds in solitude. So she put on a heavy coat and sturdy boots and made her way outside.

Jane only looked up when it began to drizzle. And that’s when she saw him.

Max. Wearing naught but a pair of muddy riding boots and a coat.

He was coming toward her from across an empty field. Gaze steely. His long, powerful stride determined.

Her body began to shake. Max drew up before her. The set of his broad shoulders imperious. But his eyes—they were soft.

“You did not come to my chambers last night,” he said. “I have come to fetch you, as I apparently can’t go more than a day without touching you. Come.”

He held out his hand.

A sharp pain lanced her breast as she looked at his fingers, making her draw a breath. Their arrangement could not go on. She was in love with him. And that love would only hold him back. He meant to take Parliament by storm. He meant to change the world.

And he couldn’t do that with someone so plain and frankly so strange at his side.

“I will no longer be visiting you,” she managed, throat welling with emotion. “I am afraid I must end our arrangement. I do not belong in your world.”

His eyes went wide. “But I don’t understand. Have I not made you feel welcome? Do you not feel like you belong in my bed, having been invited there night after night?”

Jane tried to swallow. She couldn’t.

“Let me go, Max,” she whispered. “I’m begging you. I cannot help you make your dreams come true. You deserve more than—”

“Than what?” he snapped.

She searched his eyes, her vision blurring. “Than me.”

I hit the volume knob on my stereo with the flat of my palm, killing the audio.

As deliciously angsty as that scene was, the scene I’m currently looking at through my windshield is just plain delicious.

A big green tractor is crossing the gravel driveway in front of me.

Driving that tractor is a hairy, hot, shirtless farmer.

Luke raises his hand. A simple, stationary wave. Like this is a regular Saturday night occurrence here at Rodgers’ Farms.

He’s wearing those jeans I love. A pair of dusty boots. A backwards baseball cap and aviator sunglasses.

No shirt. Just pecs and biceps and a deep, even tan that tells me he rides around half-naked on this tractor more often than not.

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. Happy tingles running up and down my sides like fingertips.

A hit of heaviness settling between my thighs.

Rolling down my window, I lean my head out. The smell of diesel tints the air.

“How’s the throb?” I shout.

Luke motions to his lap. “Why don’t you come find out?”

Pompous ass.

I’m smiling so hard my face is gonna break.

“Follow me back to the house,” he shouts back. “We’ll go for a ride.”

He turns the tractor around, movements easy, lanky almost. Muscles in his arms bunching as he turns the wheel and drives the tractor up to the house.

I follow a little bit behind, my view partially obscured by the dust the tractor’s enormous tires kick up.

Luke pulls up in front of his house. I park where I did last time, beside his truck on the other side of the house.