Pierced Hearts (Southern Charmers 1)

My guess is she’s staying at the farm, so that’s where I’m heading.

Chapter 4

Darby

“You knew this could happen, sweetie. Don’t act so shocked,” Mom says breezily like she didn’t just drop the bomb that Pierce showed up at the house this morning looking for me.

“I was prepared to run into him in public, not have him stroll casually up to my house like a welcome visitor.”

“Don’t know how you could run into him in public when you live like a recluse.”

I disregard her remark and chew nervously on the inside of my cheek. “First, he shows up at Evin’s work, and now, he comes there? Why, why, why???”

“My guess is he wants to talk to you.”

“But why? How does he even know I’m back in Charleston?”

“That is a good question. I didn’t ask him that. Our visit was cut short when Jessie showed up.”

I swallow the groan at the thought of Jessie meeting Pierce. Jessie is Mom’s twenty-something occupational therapist. She’s tall, voluptuous, and not one part of her body has been touched by gravity. I’ve seen the way she looks at Evin and can only imagine what went through her mind when she got a glimpse of Pierce.

I have no right to jealousy, but old habits die hard. Even if I haven’t laid eyes on him in… Wait! What did my mom say? “Did you say your visit was cut short, meaning you invited him in for a chat?”

“Oh, look at the time! I need to go… um… need to finish making these boxes. Don’t forget to check your email. I sent you a few notes. See you tonight!” She hangs up before I can question her more.

“UGGGGGGHHHH!” I scream into the dead air.

Runner lets out a weak ‘woof’ and rolls to his side, clearly irritated with being woken. There’s a loud banging on the door that causes us both to jump, and this time he spurts up, clearly excited about having visitors.

I press the app on my phone that allows me to view the front parking area and the door. When I see the black truck parked in the first spot, I roll my eyes. There’s no telling why Evin would come to the bakery in the middle of the day, but whatever the reason, it’s most likely going to annoy me. Mom probably called him first, scared I was going to crumble apart, and he hightailed it over here.

The banging starts again, and I flip the deadbolt, speaking as I open the door. “No need to worry. I’m not curled on the floor in the fetal position, rocking back and forth. Just because I shed a few tears the other night doesn’t mean—”

The words die on my lips, and my heart lodges in my throat. It’s not Evin standing at my door.

Pierce Cole Kendrick.

His iridescent blue eyes pierce into me, and I’m motionless.

The image of the twenty-three-year-old I’ve held on to for all these years is nothing compared to the man standing in front of me.

It should be impossible, but he’s even more gorgeous than ever. Time has been good to him. His dark, thick hair is messy and unruly like he doesn’t care. The Kendrick Construction shirt stretches against his broad chest and shoulders, straining over his biceps. His cheeks, chin, and lips are covered with a light stubble that I know from experience is soft to the touch. He’s tanned from working in the sun, and the color of his complexion sets off his mesmerizing blue eyes. My gaze rakes up and down, taking in every inch of him.

He’s always towered over me. I loved the feeling of standing next to him and having that sense of protection. Today is different.

I feel the burn as he glowers down at me.

“Darby.” Harsh, bitter, flat… not an ounce of emotion when he says my name.

A chill dances over my skin as time stands still, and I stare at the man I’ve loved for almost half my life. Pain stabs in my chest, and I clasp the door handle with all my might, hoping it will give me the support if my knees give out.

I open my mouth to respond, but it’s hard to talk over the rock stuck in my throat.

“Darby, can I come in?” This time, there’s a slice of warmth to his tone.

I step back, opening the door wider. He breezes by, the scent of his cologne lingering, and my grip on the door handle turns into a death clutch.

Runner picks up on the tension and nudges his body through the space, sniffing the area around Pierce. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for him to decide there’s no threat, and he starts butting along Pierce’s calves.

So much for a guard dog.

“Run, sit,” I croak out, finding my voice.

Runner plops on his butt, swishing his tail and panting at Pierce expectantly.