“Wow,” Monty groans, shoveling a huge forkful of arroz con pollo into his mouth. “Just—wow, Eva, this is incredible.”
“So good,” Alex agrees around a mouthful of grits.
I curl my arm around Mom’s shoulders and pull her in for a hug. “Thanks for thirty years of meals, Mom. You’re the one who inspired all this.”
“And you’re the one making it happen.” She hugs me back. “Congrats, mija. This next book is going to be a huge success, I just know it.”
“Agreed,” Ford says. “Eva, everything is seriously delicious. You done good.”
Bryce, who is doing a little happy dance in Ford’s lap while she eats her mac ’n cheese, nods, a piece of pineapple glitter falling from her hair. “You done very good, Miss Eva.”
“Is that the best macaroni you’ve ever had?” Mom asks.
Bryce nods. “Oh yeah. Daddy makes the kind from the box—”
“I deserve the father of the year award, I know,” Ford says with a groan, and we all laugh.
“Which is good. But this is good too.”
Mom and Bryce go on to have a conversation about cheese and how it’s one of their favorite things. Mom is beaming. Bryce is laughing.
Their obvious joy wraps around me like a hug.
And Ford—Ford is in his element. Cleaning his plate, he gets up and makes the rounds. He’s laughing and talking, lit up as he moves from table to table, checking in on everyone. I do the same, getting some amazing feedback on the food. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt prouder.
Bryce joins me. Quietly holding my hand while I chat with fans, friends, and family. Then the two of us sit at a table together and spend time making animal shapes out of the pineapple glitter pieces. I make Bryce giggle with my terrible cow; she makes me smile with her “doggie wearing a bow”.
Every so often, Ford and I meet eyes across the room. And every time, my heart and my stomach and basically the rest of my organs do this delicious little dip.
I want to be with this man. Which means I’m going to need to make a choice.
A really big choice.
I just hope that, by considering the whole kid thing, I’m being brave and taking a chance. Not succumbing to societal pressure, or trying to fit a round peg into a square hole, convincing myself that the predominant cultural narrative of love, marriage, baby carriage is the right narrative for me.
Then again, maybe that’s what it comes down to. Making the choice that’s best for you. For some women, that’s the choice to remain childless. For others, it’s the choice to have children.
Either way, it’s the right choice as long as it’s yours.
I was so certain what my choice was going to be. But now?
Now, giggling with Bryce as we pore over pages of my cookbook (I promise to get her an apron in her size after she says she likes the ones I’m wearing in all the pictures), I think I’m changing my mind.
Can I really do the parent thing and not give up my dreams? Eliza did it. Ford is doing it. So is Julia.
Who’s to say I can’t do it, too? What have I missed out on, being scared?
Still. The decision about whether or not to become a parent is a big one. A huge one. Am I a chump for even considering a compromise? I like my life as it is right now without kids.
I also really, really like Ford. And I like his daughter. A lot.
I can see myself ending up with him. With them. As part of their family.
I can also see myself continuing on the path I’m following right now. No kids, and all the freedom in the world to pursue my dreams.
But what if my dreams are changing? What if one of them is having a family of my own?
Then again, things may be great now. But what will happen when shit goes wrong? The way it did with my family? Things were fine until Mom had to sacrifice her career altogether when Alex lost her shit in high school.
Who’s to say the same thing won’t happen to me down the road?
Who’s to say it will? I remember what Ford said—that bit about trusting the universe. What’s the right call here?
So many questions. I’m starting to think I might have the answers. Answers that I wasn’t at all expecting. But I’m still not ready to make that call.
I’m moving toward making a decision. I’m just not ready to pull the trigger quite yet, though.
But I am ready to get Ford alone. Any way that I can.
Maybe working off some of this nervous energy with a backseat quickie will help clear my mind. I want to give him a proper thank you for everything he did to make today so special.
I want to be with him. Because even though all this angst I’m feeling has to do with him, I know he’ll make me feel better.
Chapter Nineteen
Ford
My family and I stay behind to help clean up when the tasting is over. Loading up Mr. Lacy’s truck with empty platters, I finally allow myself to admit that I’m probably—most likely—aw, fuck, definitely—in love with Eva Lacy.
Again.
For the same reasons I fell for her the first time, and some new ones, too.
Namely, how fearless she is. And talented. And good with my daughter.
I keep having days like this—fun, careless days where I eat so much and laugh so much my ribs hurt—whenever I’m with Eva.
There’s a pattern here. One I do not want to break.
But it’s gonna have to break. Same as my heart.
God, I hope she doesn’t break my fucking heart. To be fair, it’s only what I deserve after breaking hers. Despite the fact that she’s told me she can’t make any promises, I want her, I want us to be together, I want her in my life.
I want to make the ultimate promise to her.
I shove the back doors shut and the old truck rocks, its axle creaking. Could I be more of an idiot? I’m always so careful in everything that I do. My job is literally to make sound decisions based on thorough research that will lead to desirable outcomes.
Being a freewheeling jerk-off is not in my repertoire.
To my credit, I started the day with the intention to keep things fun, like Eva and I agreed. The intention to be patient, like Grey said. But then I saw her smile and her legs. I saw her beautiful, lovingly crafted food. I saw her nerves and her uncertainty melt into laughter with my daughter at her side.
I saw a spark ignite in Bryce’s eyes when Eva helped her with the glitter, and when she agreed to teach Bryce how to make Mrs. Lacy’s insanely addictive macaroni.
I knew then I was totally, completely fucked.
I knew I wanted to fuck Eva more than I wanted my next breath.
I sink down onto the rust-encrusted bumper, raising my arm to wipe my forehead on my sleeve. I need to take my brother’s advice and cool my jets. As much as I want to see her again, and feel the way I do when I’m around her, someone has to be the adult in the room.
“Ford, baby, is that you? We’re just about finished up inside.” My mom ducks her head around the truck. She furrows her brows when she sees me. “You all right?”
Straightening, I tug a hand across my face. “Yeah. Just tired. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure? You don’t look fine. I thought today went well, no?”
“It went really well.” I offer her a tight smile. “Eva’s going to kill it with this cookbook, no question.”
Mom tilts her head. “Then why the puppy dog eyes? Something happen?”
“No. Nope. Really, Mom, I’m okay. Let’s go say goodbye to everyone, all right?”
Mom studies me for a moment. I know this look. She’s debating whether or not to buy my bullshit.
We both startle at the piercing wail that fills the air.
“Five o’clock?” I ask, twisting my wrist to check my watch.
“Yep,” Mom replies. “Gotta give it to Bryce. Girl’s always on time.”
I rise to my feet with a groan. My stomach and my chest feel uncomfortably full. “When it comes to the witching hour she is.”
Back inside, Bryce is in Dad’s arms sobbing about—well, difficult to make out when she tells me, something about glitter and a gnome and her tooth, but at this point, it hardly matters. She’s toast. If I don’t get her home soon, we’ll be in full meltdown mode. And that is not fun for anyone.
“We should get going,” I say. I grab Bryce’s backpack from a nearby chair and hook it over my shoulder. Then I take Bryce and wrap her in a hug.
My daughter curls into my chest. I stroke her hair, trying my best to calm her down while sneaking a glance around the barn. Eva is in a far corner with Alex, the two of them folding tablecloths. Eva is lit up and laughing. On cloud nine after a hugely successful day.
Longing grips my heart and squeezes.
Pump the brakes.
I have to stop wanting her like this. At least until she gives me her answer.
I just wish I knew how.
I wish I could make this fullness in my chest go away. Protect myself a little better.
I turn back to my parents to see them looking at me. Then they look at each other.
“What?” I ask, immediately suspicious.
Mom nods at Bryce. “Why don’t we take Bryce for the night? Give you some time to…rest.”
“Or to, you know, catch up with an old friend,” Dad adds, cutting an unsubtle glance in Eva’s direction. Eva catches him doing it. I grimace; she just grins.
“Dad,” I say.
“What?” Mom replies for him. “We’ve seen the way you and Eva have been makin’ eyes at each other all day. You’ve done nothing but smile, and it’s a look we like on you. Y’all go out. Have some fun. We’ll have a sleepover with Bryce at our house.”
Dad is already taking Bryce’s backpack off my shoulder. “Take your time picking Bryce up in the morning. Just in case you and Eva, say, want to grab dinner and breakfast.”
“First of all, Eva and I are just friends. Second, I should take Bryce home.” Maybe if I say it out loud, I’ll actually start to believe it. “Probably best if she sleeps in her own bed anyway.”
“I don’t want to go to bed!” Bryce wails.
“Aw, sweetheart.” Mom runs a hand across Bryce’s back. “What if you came to Grandma and Grandpa’s house instead? Would you like that? Grandpa made ice cream.”
That stops the next wail in its tracks. Dad retired early. He’s kept busy by learning how to make all kinds of sweets. His bread pudding and ice cream are Bryce’s favorites.
“Is it peach?” Bryce says.
Dad nods. “Of course it is.”
“Okay.”
I roll my eyes. “Good Lord, Mom, y’all are shameless.”
“And you and Eva are cute,” Mom says, rolling up onto her toes to kiss my cheek before untangling my daughter from my arms. “See you tomorrow. Don’t hurry to pick this one up, you hear?”
Just like that, I’m left standing alone in the middle of the barn. I feel hot and sticky and tired.
Watching Eva approach me from across the room, I also feel horny.
Jesus fuck. I can’t catch a break.
I steel myself against the onslaught of wild hair—she’s wearing it up today, revealing the pretty lines of her neck—and skin and smile. She curls her arms around my neck and wraps me in a hug. Thighs pressed to mine.
Her nipples harden against my chest. Like she’s as turned on by me as I am by her.
Be cool be cool.
“Ford, thank you,” she says. “For everything. Today was the most wonderful day ever.”
She steps back, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her itty bitty jean shorts. Making them even itty bittier. If that’s even a word.
Be. Fucking. Cool.
Be patient.
But my body isn’t listening. My cock presses against the fly of my shorts. Heavy with want.
I want to be in her mouth. Between her legs.
I mean. Come on. This girl is all tan legs and warm smile and bare shoulders. Summertime in female form.
I tug a hand across my face.
“My pleasure. No doubt you’ll have another bestseller on your hands.” I keep my hand on my face so I don’t reach for her. “I don’t think you’re prepared for just how big this is going to be, E.”
She smiles, her dark eyes lighting up with mischief. “That’s what she said.”
A bark of laughter escapes my lips. The fullness in my chest spreads to my skin. Gathers between my legs, taking on an edge of urgency.
Fuck. This girl.
“So, no pressure,” she says, glancing over my shoulder. “But it looks like your parents took Bryce home? If that’s the case, I’d love to take you out. Maybe buy you a drink. My way of saying thanks for everything you’ve done for me. I have no idea where you found the time to put this whole thing together. But I really appreciate it. You taking care of all these details allowed me to really focus on the food, which was a huge help.”
I shouldn’t. Really, really shouldn’t.
I should go home. Take advantage of a rare night alone by doing a couple loads of laundry and going to bed early. I can sleep in. Workout in the morning, maybe grocery shop in blessed solitude. I love a lot of things about being a dad, but doing the week’s grocery run with a four-year-old in tow is not one of them.
I should.
But what I want?
I want to take Eva home. I want her in my bed. I want to stay up all night exploring every inch of her body. I want to fuck her so well and so much we’ll both be sore for days.
Then yeah. I’d love to take her out for a long, lazy breakfast. Maybe with mimosas. When was the last time I got a buzz on in the morning?
When was the last time I had the house to myself? No alarm clock, no kid, nowhere to be?
Still. It’s a bad call. On many levels. I have too much to do to prep for a crazy busy work week coming up. And I know, somewhere in the swirl of my thoughts, that I’m gonna catch bigger and bigger feelings if I take Eva home and get her naked.
I’m diving into the deep end every time I see her. Over and over again.
Eventually I’m going to drown.
But I can’t seem to stop. I feel myself giving in even as my rational mind condemns my decision. I always do what I should do. And I’m tired of always being responsible. I’m tired of living to check shit off my to-do list.
I want to keep enjoying the weekend. Enjoy Eva’s company. Indulge in her wild for as long as she’ll let me, because I know how rare it is.
I spear a hand through my hair. Is this what insanity feels like? Making a choice even though you’re pretty sure it’s going to absolutely crush you?
“How about you make me a drink instead?” I don’t recognize my voice. “At my place.”
Eva’s gaze locks on mine. Steady. Sure.
“You have whiskey?”
I cross my arms, shooting her an are-you-serious look.
Her teeth come down on her bottom lip. “All right then.”
I reach out. Drag my thumb across that lip, releasing it from her teeth. It feels soft and full. Hot.
The simmer inside my skin ignites into a full blown fire.
Alex passes by us, a stack of neatly folded table cloths tucked underneath one arm.
“So…” she says. “Yeah. Gonna assume y’all are riding home together?”
“Uh-huh,” Eva replies absently, eyes still locked on mine. “See you later, Alex.”
“Right. I’ll get gone.”
Going home with Eva is not a sound decision by any stretch of the imagination.
But the feel of her skin against my palm as I wrap my hand around the nape of her neck? That feels right.
Listening to Dave Matthews Band on the ride back to my place, that hand on Eva’s bare thigh, feels really fucking right.
Chapter Twenty
Ford
Seeing Eva work her culinary magic in my kitchen is the best kind of mind fuck there is.
I’m sitting on a stool at the island—my God does it feel goo
d to be the one sitting for a change—while Eva stands across from me, cocktail shaker held in both hands over her shoulder. The muscles in her arms work as she gives it a solid shake. Bringing it down, she opens it with a solid crack. She pours a foamy, golden liquid into two crystal glasses over ice, the smoky-sweet scent of whiskey blooming between us.
It’s adult and sexy and I want it in my kitchen every Saturday night. Considering the last beverage I served up was lukewarm apple juice this morning, a handcrafted cocktail is a treat.
“My version of a whiskey sour,” she explains, sliding a glass my way. “You get that nice tart note from the lemon and lime, a little sweetness from the simple syrup, and then the foam from the egg white.” She brings her glass to her lips for a sip. “What do you think?”
I keep my eyes on hers as I try my cocktail. The heady combination of flavors hits my tongue, and I grin. Tart, sweet, satisfying. Strong, too; I can already feel the whiskey start to warm the space inside my skin.
Exactly what I do and don’t need.
“Classic with a twist,” I say, smacking my lips. “Just like your food. You think there’s room in your book for a chapter on cocktails? Because this is fucking delicious. Refreshing but strong.”
“I hadn’t thought about that. But I like the idea.” Eva takes another sip, then sets her glass down and leans over, resting her elbows on the edge of the island. Giving me a view of her tits through the v of her shirt. They’re propped up, smushed together between her arms. “I got a lot of new ideas today, actually.”
I gulp my whiskey. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. One that sticks out is an idea I got while watching Bryce love up on my mac ’n cheese. Showed me that I’m making family friendly food. You know, stuff that can feed a crowd and please it, too. It made me feel like I’m on the right track.”
My heart starts to beat. I sip my cocktail. Sip again.
“You’re really good with her.”
Eva grins. “Thanks. She’s a cutie. I love how much personality she has.”
Southern Heartbreaker: A Charleston Heat Novel Page 16
