Southern Heartbreaker (Charleston Heat 4)

Yep. Definitely gotta step up my game.

I just have to rush home to see my daughter and give her a bath first. I was out with clients last night, so I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning—I went into the office early today so I wouldn’t be rushing around like an idiot tonight.

Wishful thinking.

On the drive home, I move through my to-do list in my head. Speaking of games, Bryce has requested cleats (“like the ones Miss Eva wears!”). I make a mental note to tell Hannah to take her shopping before the weekend. The washing machine is broken. I wonder if the repair guy ever showed up today; I haven’t heard from Hannah since she sent me a text at noon detailing the lunch Bryce refused to eat. Should I have Hannah grab something else for tomorrow’s lunch? That means I need to leave extra cash on the counter tomorrow. Do I even have cash? Should probably leave some for the cleats, too. How much do cleats for four-year-olds cost these days anyway?

Reminds me, I’ve been meaning to set up a debit card for Hannah to use. Ugh, I need to do that. Would make stuff like this much easier.

The projections my analyst came up with in his model for a new restaurant concept we’re developing felt overly optimistic. I should probably go over the numbers again tonight before bed. If they’re wrong, I’ll have to have a word with the analyst—this is the third time his model’s been less than stellar. Ugh, I hate those conversations. Makes me wish Grey was back at work. He’s good at playing the bad cop.

It’s almost September, which means the sign up for ballet and tap has already come and gone. Shit, I meant to sign Bryce up this year.

I pass a state trooper parked on the side of the road. Glancing at my dashboard, I see that while I’m only driving five over, I’m about thirty seconds away from running out of gas.

I dig the heel of my hand into my steering wheel, gritting my teeth. This fucking day.

Good thing I get to see Eva. She’ll calm me down. Make me feel slightly less manic.

When I finally get home, I catch Bryce at the dinner table. Thankfully she’s eating the roast chicken and broccoli I had Hannah make for her without complaint. While Hannah cleans up, I go through Bryce’s bedtime routine. Bath time, brush teeth, story time, bed. When she finally goes down half an hour late, I tear through my closet and manage to throw on a pair of jeans and some comfortable shoes. I don’t bother looking in the mirror. No time. I just thank Hannah and make a run for the restaurant.

Luckily Eva’s running late too. She appears at the hostess stand just as I’m bellying up to the bar.

She’s dressed to the nines—jeans that show off the delicious curve of her ass, a lacy top that’s so sexy it should be a crime—but when she takes off her sunglasses, I notice there are purple thumb prints beneath her eyes.

“Long day?” I ask, passing her one of the Manhattans I ordered.

Eva kisses my mouth, quick and sweet, and takes the drink. “Oh yeah. I have the headache from hell that won’t seem to quit. And this deadline is kicking my ass. I knew it’d be tight, but I’m kind of starting to panic. What I’ve got is good, but it still needs work. The part I’m most worried about, though, is the one I haven’t written yet. I still need a handful of solid recipes to round out the comfort food concept, and I’ve already raided my mom’s recipe book and my abuela’s, too. No idea where to look next.”

“No chance you can push it back? The deadline?”

Sipping her drink, she shakes her head. “Not if I want to keep this business afloat. We’ve already asked my publisher for an extension. And the longer I go between release dates, the more nervous I get about losing the readership I’ve spent years building. This book—I mean, I know what it is, I know what I want it to look like. It’s just a matter of getting the damn thing done already.”

“Well. By this time next week, it will be.” I tap my glass against hers. “Wednesday’s the deadline, right?”

“Yup. I cannot wait to be done.”

Underneath the bar, I gently prod a wedge between her thighs with my knee. Arousal twists low in my belly when Eva takes half a step forward, melting her groin and torso into mine. Her dark eyes go even darker.

I lick my lips. “You trying to kill me?”

“Nah. Just trying to distract us from the crushing responsibilities of our adult lives. How was your day? Crazy as usual?”

“Even crazier, if you can believe it.” I set my drink down on the bar. “But it’s better, now that I get to hang with you. How was practice?”