Southern Heartbreaker (Charleston Heat 4)

“Yes,” I say, relieved and hopeful and practically panting at the idea of seeing her. “We’d love to come.”

She laughs. “Wow. You’re really not one to play hard to get, are you?”

“Never was. What time do you want us? And what can I bring?”

“Welp, what time does Bryce go down? Maybe a couple of hours before so we can all hang out?”

My heart skips a beat. I remind myself for the fiftieth time to not get my hopes up.

Good fucking luck. Because I really hope this means what I think it does.

“Gonna be early then. Five o’clock or so.”

“Fine by me. How does Bryce feel about pizza?”

“Loves it. You’ll be glad to know her daddy does, too.”

“Perfect. And Ford—just bring yourselves. I’m excited to see y’all.”

I’m smiling like an idiot, and I don’t care. “We’re excited to see you too. By the way—I’m totally addicted to My Marriage to the Marquess.”

“Told you!” Eva says, laughing. “So good, right?”

I’m up at 4 a.m. Friday morning to cruise through my crushing to-do list so I can leave work early and make a stop at the florist before heading to Eva’s.

We’re at her door at five ’til. I’m holding a bottle of locally distilled whiskey, and Bryce is holding a bouquet of flowers.

Too much? I hope it’s not too much.

Spearing a hand through my hair, I catch a whiff of something good. Gotta be a smoker on a porch somewhere.

Bet it’s Eva’s porch. I furrow my brow, leaning over the railing to glimpse around. I hope she didn’t go too crazy—I honestly was expecting delivery pizza and maybe a cocktail. Which would be perfect, considering Bryce’s palate is…simple, to say the least.

The door opens and I quickly pull back. Eva is wearing a big smile and tiny jean shorts. Her lips are done up in some kinda yummy looking gloss—yeah, gonna have to kiss that off of her later—and she’s wearing long, dangly earrings.

For a second I can’t breathe. She looks—

“Beautiful,” Bryce breathes, staring up in wonder at the woman I am so far gone for. She holds out the flowers, just like I showed her.

Eva’s smile grows. She crouches down and takes the bouquet, giving the daffodils an exaggerated sniff.

“Thank you so much, Bryce. Daffodils are my favorite kind of flower.” Her eyes flick to meet mine. Daffodils symbolize new beginnings—I looked it up the first time I bought Eva flowers. We’d just started dating our sophomore year, and I wanted her to know just how obsessed with her I was, and how much our new relationship meant to me. “How did you know?”

Bryce just keeps looking at Eva, suddenly shy. She curls an arm around my leg.

“Bryce helped me pick them out at the florist. Isn’t that right?” I say, smoothing Bryce’s hair back from her face.

“I like the pink ones,” she replies.

“I hear you like pizza too,” Eva says. “Are you hungry?”

Bryce nods. Eva stands, the muscles in her legs flexing against her smooth skin, and holds out her hand. “Well come on in, then. I’ve got a pizza with your name on it.”

“Okay,” Bryce says and takes her hand.

Eva leads her inside, tossing me a smile over her shoulder.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Can’t help it. I lean in for a kiss. Bryce pulls a face—not gonna lie, part of me hopes she stays in this phase forever where she thinks kissing is gross—and I laugh.

“Yucky, right?” I say.

Her grimace morphs into a grin. “So yucky, daddy.”

All this smiling. My face feels like it’s been split in half. I’ve never brought my daughter on a date with me before. Ever. This is new territory for me. I tried not to have high hopes, but…yeah.

Yeah, I definitely did. And they’ve definitely been smashed.

Looking at Eva looking at me, I feel the joy bubbling up inside me take on a sharp edge. I was in love with Eva before, when she was an idealistic kid who loved her food and her whiskey and her books. But now—now I think I’m even more in love with Eva the accomplished entrepreneur, writer, and aquatic exhibitionist.

If this goes sideways, it’ll destroy me.

I shove the thought aside. Things are on the up and up. No use dwelling on what could go wrong. I’m already in, and it appears Eva is, too.

I follow her and Bryce inside. Music is playing; nostalgia grips my heart and won’t let go when I hear it’s Dave Matthews Band. Like any college kids worth their salt in the early 2000s, Eva and I would make out for days to the “Crash” album. Days, y’all, dry humping each other like our lives depended on it. “#41” still gets me, all these years later.

My skin feels a size or two too tight when I think about doing it again. The humping. With Eva. But with Bryce in the picture now, I have to take it slow. Be intentional about how often she sees Eva and in what context. As much as I want Eva in my bed tonight, I can’t run the risk of Bryce seeing her around the house yet. Least of all in the middle of the night or in the morning.