The proceeds from today’s event—officially a “Grits ’n Grinds Fundraiser”—will go to a local food bank. Eventually, we’d love to be able to fund some cooking classes in public schools in the area. Maybe even fund scholarships for people wanting to go to culinary or business school.
Big scary goals, sure. But honestly? With Gracie at my side, I feel like anything and everything is possible.
I never been so genuinely excited for the future.
Starting with today.
We pull up to the barn. My mamas are there waiting for us, ready with a carload of flowers and plants to decorate with. The four of us start setting up for the brunch. Unloading the coffee, setting up the tables.
Eli and Olivia arrive not long after. Truck full of food. Trays of my grits, made with stock, gouda, and half and half. There’s shrimp, fried chicken. Fried oysters and braised collards and quarts of pimiento cheese.
Marie arrives to set up the dessert table. Everything on it made with Rodgers’ Farms produce.
I’m surprised when Lilly shows up early, too, a handsome fifty-something guy in tow.
“This is my husband, George,” she says, introducing me. “We were so excited for y’all we couldn’t stay away. How can we help?”
I smile, genuinely touched by the offer.
“How about y’all set up the beer? We got some kegs that need to be put on ice.”
George grins, giving my hand a good shake. “Mind if we give ’em a taste, too? Quality control is real important.”
“I’m all about quality. Help yourselves. Just don’t drink it all, you hear?”
Lilly waves me away, a sly little smile on her lips. “I make no guarantees when it comes to a good IPA. I love me some hops.”
Now I’m grinning, too. Look at us. A shipping CEO and a farmer, bonding over some beer.
I ain’t mad at it.
Greyson is the next to show. He’s all business as usual.
“Lookin’ good,” he says, shaking my hand as he surveys the bustle inside the barn. “You see that email from Julia this morning?”
I nod. “Gonna be mighty sexy, this new barn. Gracie and I really like her ideas.”
“Who wouldn’t? She picked the best of everything. I swear to God, that woman couldn’t stick to a budget if her goddamn life depended on it. I’m gonna have a word with her.” He tilts his head to look around me. “She here yet?”
Furrowing my brow, I reply, “Not that I know of.”
Grey’s growling isn’t anything new. He growls at a lot of people about a lot of things.
But there’s a sharpness to this particular growl that makes me take note. Almost like he’s personally offended by Julia’s tardy arrival.
“Figures,” Greyson mutters. “She’s always late.”
Lilly sashays over then, a red solo cup in each hand.
“Y’all look like you could use some refreshment. My word, Greyson, what are you fumin’ about now?”
We take the cups she presses into our hands. I bite back a smile when I see Grey take a long, savage sip, eyes narrowed as they scan the barn and the fields surrounding it. As if Julia was out there somewhere hiding from him. Cackling at him from behind a bush or something.
Huh.
“Nothing,” Greyson snaps. “It’s just been a long day.”
Lilly cocks a brow. “Long day? It’s ten A.M. On a Saturday.”
He grunts. “Beer is good.”
Then he heads into the barn.
Lilly and I exchange a glance.
“Is anything going on between him and Julia?” I ask.
“Who and Julia?”
Gracie appears at my elbow.
“Greyson,” I say, nodding in his direction. “Wouldn’t stop talkin’ about how pissed at her he is.”
Gracie blinks, clearly surprised. “I don’t think so. Those two—I mean, they couldn’t be more different if they tried.”
“You know what they say about opposites and the laws of attraction,” Lilly says, wagging her brows.
Elijah calls us over then, asking for help with some portable burners.
The morning goes by too quickly. All of the sudden it’s noon, and guests start arriving. Trickling in at first. But the makeshift lot beside the barn quickly fills up, and soon the barn is filled to the rafters, too.
Gracie’s friends. Mine. Kids and babies. The smells of coffee and fried chicken thick in the air.
It’s loud. Crowded. Bodies making it warm enough for us to keep the big barn doors open.
Gwen is helping George give the keg a pump. She says something, and he throws his head back and laughs.
Who knew he appreciated a dirty joke so much?
Lilly boogies in the corner to Luke Bryan with Mama and Dylan and a little girl in pink cowboy boots.
Everyone—every single person who comes through the doors—stops me to shake my hand. They introduce themselves if we’ve never met. Thank me for the invite if we have.
The buckets we set up by the food overflow with dollar bills.
Hardly half an hour into the thing, and I’m overflowing, too. So much good stuff I’m getting a little choked up here.
I grab a beer and duck outside. Take a minute to catch my breath. Watch through the door as my world and Gracie’s collide in a million ways, big and small.
This.
This is it. The dream, coming true right in front of me.
My dream and hers, all rolled into one.
We’re fucking doing it. A day at a time, we’re creating our own world together.
Aw, shit, now I’m really gonna cry.
Gracie comes over. Hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she looks up at me, one eye screwed shut against the ardent autumn sun.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I sniffle. Look down to toe at an invisible pebble.
“Was it the buckets of money for charity?”
“Yeah.”
“The incredible turn out?”
“Yup.”
“The really good grits and better coffee?”
This one I can’t even reply to. So I just nod.
Gracie steps forward, the toes of her Nikes coming into view.
“Just think, Luke,” she says. “This is only the beginning.”
I look up. She’s smiling at me. With her eyes and mouth and heart.
I’m leaning down to kiss her when we hear a muffled bang. Muffled growl, too.
Turning my head in the direction of the sounds, I see the back door of a nearby Yukon—new and shiny—open.
Greyson steps out. Glancing around as he tucks the back of his shirt into his slacks.
I duck so he doesn’t see me. Gracie does the same.
A second later, Julia emerges from the car. Face flushed. Frantically curling her disheveled hair behind her ears.
“Oh my God,” Gracie breathes. “They were totally fucking, right?”
“Oh yeah.” I watch as Greyson says something to Julia. Julia scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Hate fucking, from the look of it.”
“I didn’t see that one coming.”
I turn back to Gracie and hold up my hand for a high five.
“Nice pun.”
She slaps my hand. “Thank you.”
I catch hers.
“Thank you. For giving me a chance. For seeing all this,” I glance up at the barn, “before I could.”
Gracie gives my hand a squeeze. “I love you, Luke.”
I kiss her in reply. She sighs into my mouth. Body melting into mine.
Adore worship conquer.
I’d say I did a pretty damn good job.
* * *
Thank you so much for reading Luke and Gracie’s story! I seriously fell head over heels for them and I hope you did, too. If you’d like to find out how they first met ten years ago—complete with mullet and pervy produce puns—you can get their adorable, sexy meet-cute BONUS SCENE for FREE by signing up for my newsletter!
Thank you very much for rea
ding Luke and Gracie’s story! Look out for SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN, the next book in the Charleston Heat Series, coming Spring 2019. This will be Julia and Greyson’s story. Think alpha in a power suit + hate sex + banter galore. Be the first to read exclusive excerpts from SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN by joining The City Girls, my reader group on Facebook. I always share my work there first!
In the meantime, be sure to check out SOUTHERN CHARMER if you haven’t already. This is Olivia and Eli’s story, and the first book in the Charleston Heat Series. Like all my books, it’s available in Kindle Unlimited. Keep reading for a super sexy excerpt!
If you’ve already burned through the Charleston Heat series but are wondering which of my books to read next, give ROYAL RUIN a try. It’s a super fun, second chance royal romance!
I love nothing more than interacting with readers. Feel free to drop me a line at [email protected], or follow my (not so) glamorous life of a romance author on Instagram @JessicaPAuthor.
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Southern Charmer Excerpt
Eli
The patio is really getting packed. People hang out in front of the stage, waiting for the band to begin. I look up when the lead singer from Buns ’n Roses introduces himself into the microphone. A beat later, the band bursts out into a loud, throbbing version of “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard.
Immediately the front half of the patio turns into a dance floor. Hands are in the air, there’s hollerin’ and hootin’ and some pretty egregious dry humping going on.
I turn to Olivia, half hoping she’s got a look of disgust on her face because she hates eighties music and/or Def Leppard. I need a reason to want her a little less. A reason to help me pump the goddamn brakes.
Instead, her face is lit up with a smile as she mouths the lyrics, nodding her head in time to the beat.
“You like Def Leppard?” I say, raising my voice so she can hear me.
Olivia nods, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. “Love ’em. Although Bruce Springsteen is probably my favorite. From the eighties, at least.”
My uncle introduced me to The Boss when I was a kid. I’ve been obsessed ever since.
I meet Luke’s eyes over her head.
Goodness.
I’m in big fucking trouble.
As if on cue, Buns ’n Roses plays “Dancing in the Dark”.
Olivia looks at me. I look at her.
“Wanna dance?” I ask.
She chews on her bottom lip. My heart falls. She’s gonna turn me down again. God, why do I keep doing this to mys—
“Would love to,” she replies with a smile. She looks at Luke and Grace. “Are you guys going to be okay? I hate to leave you…”
“Y’all go have fun,” Luke says, hardly giving us a glance as he turns to my sister.
I shoot him a dark look.
“You two behave.” Then I nod my head toward the band. “Let’s go, Yankee girl.”
She follows me as I try to nudge my way through the crowd. It’s slow going; the patio is really packed. I turn around to see some asshole cutting Olivia off, shouldering her aside.
“Hey!” I shout at the guy, stepping back. “Watch it.”
Then I reach behind me and grab Olivia’s hand. For a second, it stays lax in mine. I worry I’ve made her uncomfortable. But I don’t want her to get lost in the throng. Shit—
But then she firms her grip, fingers curling around my palm. I glance over my shoulder and she meets my eyes.
“All right?” I ask.
She nods, her smile returning. “All right.”
My pulse hiccups. Her hand feels small and warm in my own. She’s trusting me.
I feel like I could fucking fly.
I turn back around and head for the stage, keeping Olivia close. Once, when I stop unexpectedly, she kind of crashes into me. I swear to God I almost bite off my tongue at the feel of her tits pressed against my back. Am I imagining that she lingers there for half a heartbeat?
I keep moving. I don’t wanna do something stupid. We burrow our way to a spot in the middle of the dance floor. The lead singer has busted out a saxophone, and everyone around us is going nuts. Olivia comes to stand beside me, her hip brushing against mine when she shimmies.
I take a chance and give her hand a squeeze.
Olivia smiles, squeezing back.
I can’t let her go. Not yet. I crave this. Whatever this feeling is.
I raise my arm and twirl her around. Then she raises her arm and attempts to twirl me, and even though I bend my back, I somehow manage to fuck it up, spilling beer all over the front of my button up shirt. Her eyes widen when they fall on the stain. She puts the flat of her palm over it. Over my stomach.
“Sorry!” she shouts.
My entire body warms at the simple contact. I don’t wanna read too much into it. That she’s the one touching me now.
But I do.
I lean into it. Into her palm.
Into her.
And she doesn’t pull away.
“Don’t give me an excuse to take my shirt off,” I reply.
Olivia laughs, taking a step closer. “Like you need one.”
I cock a teasing brow, my free hand going to the top button. “Should I?”
“I don’t wanna get kicked out yet. Band’s too good,” she replies, swatting away my hand.
Her playful touching—her flirting—is driving me up the wall. It’s such a fucking turn on. The blood inside my skin feels downright giddy.
I catch her hand, guiding it onto the back of my neck. Her eyes flash with heat, and she steps into me, sliding her other arm onto my shoulder. Pressing our bodies together.
The solid, soft feel of her against me is enough to make me wanna scream. Our bodies fit together perfectly.
Her curves are all over me.
My cock starts to feel heavy when she digs the tips of her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, gently dragging her fingernails across my scalp.
I curl an arm around her waist and hold her closer. Duck my head to murmur in her ear.
“I like that.”
Olivia’s nose brushes against the line of my jaw. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not. But it turns me on in a really big way.
“Thought you might.”
Her voice is different. A little husky.
The band is playing “Jesse’s Girl” now. Olivia pulls away a little. Just enough to meet my eyes as she starts moving her hips, her body practically writhing against mine.
Don’t get a boner.
Do. Not. Get. A. Boner.
I’m terrified of scaring her off. She’s never been so open with me. So free. Her fiery side has finally come out to play, and I’m not about to send it back into hiding by poking her with my badly behaved dick.
So I twirl her a few more times, hoping to put some distance between us. But then she turns around and presses her ass into my crotch, rolling it to the beat of “1999”, the song the band plays next.
I brush her hair over her shoulder so I can lean down to her ear again.
“You tryin’ to kill me, Olivia?”
She shoots me the sauciest, sexiest, hottest look ever over her shoulder. For a second I can’t breathe.
“What? You really expect me not to dirty dance to Prince?”
Jesus, take the wheel.
By some miracle, I manage to keep my body under control. The night is warm and the music is loud, and Olivia and I dance like we have nothing to lose. No worries. No disappointments. It’s just us and Pat Benatar and U2 and Foreigner underneath a cloudy night sky.
At one point, I glance toward the bar. I let out a silent sigh of relief when I see Gracie there with her boyfriend Nicholas. Luke is MIA.
Good. Gracie’s in safe hands. I don’t have to worry. Which means I can focus on Olivia.
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She’s one hell of a dancer. Never would’ve guessed the girl in the designer shades would act out the lyrics to “Addicted to Love” in public while taking slugs of Bud Light. But here she is, laughing, making me laugh, rolling her hips and biting her lip and throwing her arms in the air as she sings about one track minds.
Throwing her arms around me.
It starts to rain. Just a sprinkling of droplets. No one seems to notice. Least of all Olivia, who’s behind me now, hands on my hips as she encourages my ass to press into her crotch.
I oblige my lady, and give her as much booty as she can handle until I pull her around, her back to my front, and hold her against me, our bodies moving in tandem.
We’re both sweating. Both breathless. My heart is going apeshit inside my chest. I feel like I’ve been plugged into a socket, blood electric, skin charged. Our chemistry is real.
My feelings for this romance writing, dirty dancing woman are real.
Feelings I would very much like to express physically. I’m too warm and too turned on. I want her too much.
It begins to rain in earnest, followed by an ominous rumble of thunder.
I look down at the back of Olivia’s head. She’s been raking her hands through her hair all night, making it messy.
Just how I like it.
The band calls it a night, blaming the thunder for their shortened set.
Without a word, I grab Olivia’s hand and head for the covered bar. But we’re not the only ones with that idea, and about five seconds later, the bar is packed and we’re edging back out into the rain.
I notice Gracie is still here with Nicholas. I wave to her.
“You okay?” I shout.
She gives me a thumbs up.
“C’mon,” I say, giving Olivia a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay,” she replies, jogging after me.
We leave the bar, only to find ourselves on the crowded sidewalk. People are on their phones, trying to get Ubers. The rain is really coming down now.
I start to dig my phone out of my pocket, but Olivia tugs on my arm.
“Let’s just walk. It’s not that far. We’re already soaked.”
Southern Player: A Charleston Heat Novel Page 29
