Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

Olivia just smiles, pushing off the truck. Making my heart beat faster.

“You’ll see. C’mon.” She tilts her head toward the house. “Let’s go inside so you can change.”

“Change?” I’m so confused. “Into what?”

“Luke has something he wants you to wear.”

What in the world? Does he, like, want me to wear a negligee or something? A bathing suit? Are we going swimming?

What is going on?

Olivia slips her arm through mine, and together we head up the front steps and into the house.

I’m immediately hit by the scent of coffee. Freshly brewed from the smell of it.

We pass by the kitchen and I see my brother at the stove. Shirtless, of course. A towel thrown over his shoulder as he shimmies a sauté pan back and forth over a burner.

“Eli?” I say.

Now I’m really confused.

He glances over his shoulder. “Don’t mind me. Go with Olivia and get dressed.”

“What are—”

“You’ll know soon enough. Get dressed, Gracie.”

I feel lightheaded as Olivia leads me to a back bedroom on the first floor.

There’s a beautiful white dress laid out on the bed, along with a pair of the cutest nude-colored ballet flats.

I stare at it. Wanting to smile. Cry. Ask a million questions because I am even more mystified now than I was when I pulled up to the house.

Instead, I let Olivia help me into the dress. It’s got a low neckline and an empire waist. These sweet little sleeves that pucker out at the ends.

“Almost looks like something one of your heroines would wear,” I say, smoothing the pristine fabric over my stomach.

“It’s a little big,” Olivia remarks. “We didn’t have a ton of time to put this together. But I still think it looks fabulous on you.”

“This was Luke’s idea?”

“This was all Luke. Yes.”

I turn to see her smiling. That knowing smile she wears whenever I mention Luke. Whenever we’re together.

She tugs the zipper up my back. “Feel okay?”

“Feels great. Just wish I knew what it was for.”

“Put on your shoes,” she says, dropping them at my feet. “Then I’m driving you to the barn.”

This time I don’t even ask about the barn, because I know I won’t get an answer.

I’m brimming with anticipation as Olivia guides Elijah’s gigantic pickup down the driveway. Sun setting behind us, casting the world in a pink-orange glow. The air is warm but not humid tonight. Cool enough to have the windows down.

When the barn comes into sight, it looks just like it did the other day.

I furrow my brow. Why, then, do I get the feeling something about it is different?

Why do I get the feeling everything is about to be different?

Olivia pulls up to the side of the barn and puts the truck in park. She points at the large barn door in front of us, painted wooden beams marking an x across it.

“Go in there,” she says, looking at me. “Don’t be afraid to give the door some muscle.”

I look at her. Look at the door.

I put my hand on the truck door, my fingers working nervously over the cool leather. Look back at Olivia.

“I don’t know what you’re doing. But if you’re doing it to help Luke—help us—then thank you. Thank you for everything, Olivia. If you hadn’t written Max and Jane’s story—if you hadn’t been there to help convince my brother that me hooking up with Luke was a good idea—I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. And even we don’t end up working out, I’m glad I got to be with Luke. At least for a little while.” I manage a smile. “I’m so glad I have you. Eli is stupid lucky to have literally almost run you over.”

She laughs, even as her eyes get wet. She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I was the one who almost ran him over, Gracie. Either way, I’d like to think we’re lucky to have found each other.” Her eyes flick to the barn. “Same as you’re about to get lucky in there. Go.”

“Get lucky?” My internal temperature spikes. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

“I’ve already said too much. Go.”

I feel like I’m floating as I head for the barn. This whole thing is surreal.

Surreal and weirdly wonderful. I’m on the cusp of something. That much I know.

And this is the breathless before. Before I either take off flying or fall on my face. When nothing is certain and everything is possible.

It’s bittersweet.

My pulse is going crazy as I slide the barn door open with a small grunt.

I step inside.

I feel a swift, sudden swell of emotion. Breath leaving my lungs as I take in the cavernous space around me.

It’s rustic. Unpainted and clean. Smelling of—is that more coffee?—and fresh flowers. I inhale, looking around. Looking down to see that the floor is strewn with petals. Pale pink and perfect.