Southern Heartbreaker (Charleston Heat 4)

I chew thoughtfully for a minute.

“You make food that brings people together. Think about it, Eva. When you’re smoking a pork shoulder, you’re doing it for a crowd. Same as when you’re making a big batch of this ridiculous slaw. You’re making food for the moments we all crave the most. The ones we get to share with our friends and families. The people we love.”

She pulls back, surprised. “I’ve actually never thought about it like that before.”

“It’s true.” I reach for the tortillas and slaw. “By the way, mind if I help myself to another? Would you like one?”

“Oh! Yes, help yourself. I’m good for now,” she replies, her smile radiating with quiet pride. “So you think this isn’t totally random? Food like this?”

“I’d have to do a little more research on your brand before I can answer that definitively. Yeah, this food is different. I think it’s important we acknowledge that. But I also think it can still fit in nicely with your story if we spin it right. Bridge the connection between your first book and this one by applying your unique skills as a pit master to food not typically associated with that kind of cooking.”

“Wow.” She cocks a brow. “The businessman in you is really coming out.”

“Turn off?”

“No. No, not at all. A turn on, as a matter of fact. I always thought your smart was sexy. Competence porn is a real thing.”

“Competence porn,” I say. “That sounds fun.”

“It’s a term I learned reading romance. Which, by the way, I’m obsessed with these days. Basically refers to finding someone sexy because she or he is really, really good at what they do.”

We lock eyes. My heart skips a beat. Body warms despite the shade and the breeze.

“Welp. You’re a walking, talking version of that kind of porn,” I say, taking a bite of taco, and she laughs. “I like porn.”

“I know,” she replies, and I think about the porn we’d watch together in my dorm room bed. “I do, too.”

I grin, despite the ominous rush of blood to my groin. “I remember.”

“By the way, you kept saying ‘we’ just then.”

“After this?” I hold up the mangled remains of my fourth taco. “There is absolutely a ‘we’ going on here. Whatever you need from me, count me in. I can be your taste tester, your kitchen helper. Your sexy, competence-porny businessman muse who inspires you to make your very best comfort food.”

Eva’s eyes light up. “Comfort food. Yes. That’s exactly how I feel when I eat stuff like this—comforted. Like everything is going to be okay.”

“Like all is right in the world and life is good. In that moment, at least. And sometimes that’s all you need to get through a rough patch. I know I relied on my parents’ cooking a lot when Bryce was a baby and I had just lost Rebecca.”

Eva looks at me, expression growing serious. “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

“Not at all.” I shake my head, finishing my bite. “Rebecca had cancer. Got diagnosed when she was pregnant with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It was aggressive, and she had to deliver Bryce early so she could get treatment. Unfortunately, it was a case of too little, too late. We lost her when Bryce was four months old.”

“Oh my God.” She swallows. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know what to say except that that is really awful, and I’m really sorry. You’re an absolute rock star for not only making it through, but for being so strong for your daughter. I imagine that was tough—having to put your grief aside to take care of Bryce.”

“Toughest thing I’ve ever done. Part of me wanted to give in to the bitterness that came with the grief. It seemed so unfair, you know? But in a way, Bryce saved me. She kept me from spiraling. From giving up. For a while, being her daddy was the only good thing in my life. And I clung to that until the grief didn’t hurt so bad. I’m her rock, but she’s mine, too.”

Eva reaches across the table and takes my hand. Gives it a quick but firm squeeze. A squeeze I feel in my chest. I haven’t talked to another woman—one I’m dating—about Rebecca. Feels good to share this part of my story.

Feels even better to share it with Eva. She doesn’t offer empty platitudes. Doesn’t judge or shy away.

She just listens.

I resist the urge to take her face in my hands and kiss her. More than ever, I feel like a fucking idiot not only for breaking up with Eva, but also for breaking up with her the way that I did. People like her—real, heartfelt, crazy intelligent people—are rare. I should’ve never let her go.

Now it’s too late for us to be together. For a hot second I thought I might get a second chance, but now that I know she doesn’t want kids, clearly that’s not in the cards. It’s not my place to change her mind. Not on something like that.