Pierced Hearts (Southern Charmers 1)

“Shit.” Pierce separates us a little, allowing my leg to drop and skirt to fall. His eyes roam over me, and a cocky grin split wide. “I’m going to fuck you in this dress at some point today.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

His eyes flame, and I know he’s accepted this as a challenge.

“Good thing you’re here, Darby. Pierce has been an ass,” Miller calls from behind us.

I check my watch. “It’s not even eight-thirty,” I defend.

“I went to bed and woke up without you. My patience was wearing thin.”

My heart swells and my stomach twists the same way it always does when he says things like this. “I’m here now.”

Runner barks again, alerting us that’s he’s done waiting.

“Miller,” Pierce looks over his shoulder, “will you walk Runner around and get him familiar?”

“Let him loose,” he responds with a handclap.

Pierce unpins me, opening the back door while I go to the trunk. Runner almost falls over himself getting to Miller and then taking off into the side yard. I throw my beach bag over my shoulder and grab the large box filled with enough sugar and sweets to last most people a month.

“Jesus, baby, what’s in there?” His eyebrows arch when he takes the box and peeks inside.

“I may have gone overboard. But I was nervous and thought maybe this stuff would help ease any tension.”

“I think you’ll see there isn’t going to be any tension.”

“Let’s hope,” I respond sincerely. Since our talk in my kitchen that night, I have been mentally preparing myself for today.

Pierce changed his strategy and took a much less aggressive approach. Connie was still pissed off at him and wasn’t thrilled he wanted the kids for a full week at the beach, especially when she found out she wasn’t included at all. After hearing Pierce’s parting words that morning in the café, I expected her to slink back under her rock to lick her wounds. She didn’t.

Her retaliation was keeping them with her the last two weeks and him having to jump through hoops to see them. Connie still relied on Jill and Warren to help with their childcare, so Pierce would work early mornings and got them for afternoons before he returned them at night. Twice, Connie arrived uninvited, joining them for dinner. This set Pierce off, but I suggested he lay his feelings for her aside and try to get along instead of glowering at her like a rabid dog. I had no idea if it would work, but in my mind, I wondered if Pierce’s neutral attitude toward their mother would help lighten their confusion.

When it came to me, he took extra measures to make sure I was okay. Seeing as his children were spending every night with their mother, it gave us the opportunity to have our time. We alternated between houses and fell into a routine. Our routine. It was wonderful and scary at the same time. He gave me a glimpse into what could be if there was a chance for the future.

I loved it. I embraced it. And I made the decision I was going to own this with him.

So, while he prepared to bring them to Kiawah Island and give them an unbelievable summer vacation, I was planning on my own approach. For the first time in all these years, I wanted to be with Pierce and his children. Cole liked me; that was obvious. It was Maya I needed to move with cautiously.

Pierce takes my hand, balancing the box easily on one arm, and leads me inside. I’m immediately taken away by the house, noticing it is similar in style to my shed, only six times larger. The coastal décor is fun and chic, and the view of the outdoor living area leading to the beach is breathtaking.

I love it. He picks up on my approval, winking at me. “You haven’t seen the best part yet.” He takes us around a corner, and I cry out at the kitchen. It’s massive, it’s exquisite, and it’s pristine. If I ever had this type of home, this is my kitchen.

“This is perfect!” I squeal, wrenching my hand from his and running to the first surface. “It’s going to be exactly what we need.”

“For this?” He places the box by me.

“Yes. How long before they wake up?”

“Hit or miss. Cole will barrel down the stairs when his stomach wakes him. Maya is a wild card. She likes her sleep.”

I twist, throwing my hands around his neck. “How do you think they will react to homemade donuts?”

His fantastic blue eyes light to the color of the sky. Something passes across his features, something bright and beautiful that dips down to my soul.

“You want to be here,” he concludes.

“I do. I want to make homemade donuts with you, eat a very unhealthy breakfast that we’ll promise to work off chasing Runner on the beach and swimming until we’re exhausted.”