We can get through anything together.
I make my way around the bar and extend my hand to Olivia’s mother. I’ve never met her parents before, but I recognize them from pictures Olivia has shown me on Facebook.
“Elijah Jackson,” I say. “I’m so happy y’all were able to make it. Welcome to Charleston.”
We all shake hands. Mr. Wilson clears his throat and smooths his hands over his freshly pressed khakis. Mrs. Wilson shifts awkwardly in her fashionably understated sundress.
I glance down at my chef’s jacket and apron. My sleeves are rolled up, like always, exposing several tattoos on my forearms. I catch Olivia’s mother eyeing them.
I bite back a smile. Bet that’s something she doesn’t see every day.
“So you’re the Eli we’ve been hearing so much about,” Mrs. Wilson says, eyes flicking to my face.
“I’ve heard a good bit about you, too. Olivia was saying you’ve never been down south before.”
Mr. Wilson clears his throat. “We haven’t.”
“Y’all are in for a treat.” I clap my hands and nod at the bar. “How about a cocktail?”
Mrs. Wilson’s shoulders fall as she lets out a breath. “I’d love one. Please.”
Luke introduces himself while I shake up two more Olivias. He’s charming as hell, and flirts shamelessly with Olivia’s mother. By the time I hand her a cocktail, her face is flushed and her eyes are dancing.
“People sure are friendly down here, aren’t they?” she says before taking a sip. She smacks her lips. “Wow. That is—”
“Strong,” Mr. Wilson says.
“Delicious,” she adds, grinning as she takes another sip.
“Y’all be careful,” Luke warns playfully. “Chef Elijah Jackson is famous for his deadly cocktails.”
“Among other things,” I say with a sly grin.
Other guests begin to filter in. There’s Julia, Olivia’s friend from grad school and my neighbor. She wraps me in a tight hug and plants a kiss on my cheek.
“Thank you,” she says. “For making our girl so happy.”
“Thank you for being such a good friend to her,” I reply. “She loves you.”
“She loves you.”
I smile, giving Julia a squeeze before she steps back. “I’m a lucky bastard, I know.”
She fixes me with a stare. “You hurt her, and I’ll hurt you. Got it?”
“Got it,” I say with a quick nod. “I learned my lesson the first time.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” she says, patting me on the chest. Her glance cuts over my shoulder to the bar. “What’re y’all shakin’ up back there?”
“Bourbon,” I say.
Julia nods. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Louise and her girlfriend Mabel arrive next, followed by Kathryn Score, one of Olivia’s closest writer friends. The entire Charleston Writer’s Club arrives together, smelling like gin. Approximately half the professors at the College of Charleston come in next. Naomi walks in with Sergio. Maria ducks out of the kitchen to say hello.
It’s starting to get loud inside the restaurant. Music is playing. Good smells are coming out of the kitchen. Shakers are going at the bar.
When Olivia finally steps through the door arm in arm with my sister, I think my heart’s going to explode from too much happiness. Her face lights up, and Gracie laughs when Olivia pulls her close, clearly overwhelmed by the turnout.
Her eyes catch on mine. She smiles.
“Hey baby,” she says.
I go to her and take her in my arms. I know the whole room is watching us, but I don’t give a damn. I lean down and plant a big fat juicy kiss on her lips. Our friends erupt in applause and loud, lewd whistles. Olivia laughs against my mouth, looping her arms around my neck. I pull back to see that her eyes are wet.
“Happy tears,” she explains. “You make me so happy, Eli.”
“I love you,” I say, thumbing away a tear. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Olivia smiles up at me. My pulse hiccups. Even now, almost a year since we first met, I still get butterflies when she walks into a room. This girl cracked my world wide open. I think I’ll always be in awe that I was lucky enough to find her.
That we were lucky enough to find each other.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she says, glancing around the room. “It’s spectacular.”
“I wanted to do it,” I reply. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I kinda like to cook, and I really like your friends, so…yeah. Figured I’d combine the two and throw a little party.”
Olivia arches a brow. “Little? Eli, there’s, like, thirty people here.”
“Thirty-six to be exact.” I shrug when her eyes go wide. “Don’t blame it on me. You’re the one who’s the social butterfly.”
Her eyes search mine. “Thank you. I mean that.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I say. “I invited your parents.”
Olivia’s eyes stay wide. “You did what?”
“They’re over at the bar.” I grab her hand. “Let’s go say hello.”
She’s talked a lot about how her parents are slowly coming around to the fact that she’s moved halfway across the country to write romance. She’s also talked about wanting to invite them down so she can show them around the city she’s fallen in love with. She’s even floated a few dates with them. I would have never invited them if I knew she wasn’t ready for them to visit. I figured what better time to come than Olivia’s birthday? I know she misses them.
Case in point: she starts crying all over again when her mother wraps her in a hug and keeps her there.
“I don’t know what they put in these drinks,” Mrs. Wilson is saying. “But I love it. Love it, Olivia. I’ve had three already. I love you. And I love this city! And whatever is in this cocktail—I love that too. But I love you the most.”
I cut a glance to Mr. Wilson. He shrugs in agreement, then raises his hand to order another cocktail.
There’s a tug on my sleeve. I turn to see Gracie at my elbow, cocktail in hand, a smile on her lips. My sister has always been a pretty girl, but tonight she is nothing short of radiant. She’s also dressed up to the nines. Nothing unusual for Gracie. But combined with the smile and the glow, it makes me take note.
Which makes me think someone else is taking note. Someone in this room.
“You look beautiful,” I say, giving her a hug.
She’s breathless when she replies. “Thanks.”
I see something sticking out of the collar of her dress. When I look a little closer, I blink in surprise.
“Gracie,” I say, nodding at her neck. “Is that a hickey?”
Her hand claps down on the offending spot. “Maybe it is. So what?”
I put my hands up in mock surrender. “It’s no big deal. I’ve just never seen Nicholas…er, do something like that.”
Grace takes a sip of her drink and looks away. Just like Luke did when I asked him about his love life.
Huh.
“It wasn’t Nicholas.”
“What?” I blink. “Then who did give it to you?”
“Give her what?”
I start at Luke’s sudden appearance. He’s standing across from Gracie, beer in hand, the other tucked into the front pocket of his dark wash jeans.
“None of your damn business,” I say.
“Hey, Luke,” Gracie says. There’s almost something a little…shy about her greeting.
Shy, and knowing.
Luke’s eyes darken when they fall on her face. “Hey, Gracie. You look gorgeous, as always.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome,” she says, then steps forward to embrace him.
I watch the whole thing happen, frozen to the spot: Gracie going up on her toes. Luke’s arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her against him. Guiding her body into his like he’s done it before. For half a second his nose grazes her neck, right where her hickey is, and he inhales, closing his eyes.
Gracie holds on to him for a beat too long. When she pulls back, she’s got those stars in her eyes again. Luke looks like he wants to tear her clothes off. His face is soft and hard all at once when her hand trails down his side to rest on his hip.
Oh no.
No no no no.
I know this look. The one Gracie and Luke are currently exchanging.
I know it, because it’s the kind of look I’ve only ever given to one girl. My forever girl. Olivia.
The girl I’m hopelessly, helplessly in love with.
Gracie and Luke are in love.
Or at the very least, they’re in lust.
What the fuck? I thought Gracie was happily dating Nicholas. And Luke is dating—well, everyone. I told him to stay away from her.
But before I can figure out what the hell is going on, Kip taps me on the shoulder and tells me it’s time to make a toast. Waiters are handing out flutes of champagne to the guests. I grab one and make my way to stand in front of the kitchen. People crowd around me. Olivia ducks through the throng, her parents right behind her. They stand not far from me.
Taking a folded piece of paper out of my pocket, I clear my throat. The room gets quiet.
“Thank y’all for coming,” I begin. “Olivia and I consider each and every one of you part of our family, and we appreciate all the support and love y’all have shown us over the past year. As many of you know, I was in a pretty bad place when Olivia came into my life. My restaurant was goin’ under, and I was feeling really lost. Little did I know getting to know her—talking with her, reading her work, becomin’ friends—was the beginning of my happily ever after. Going through the bad stuff was…Jesus, it was really shitty.” This earns a laugh from the crowd.
“But going through it made me a better man. The kind of man that I hope deserves a girl like Olivia.” I look at her. “I made it through the bad stuff because you were waitin’ for me on the other side, sweetheart. I was lost, but you loved me anyway. I was a jackass, but you took me back anyway. Thank you for loving me just as I am. I hope to do half as good a job loving you.”
Olivia comes to give me a hug. People are clapping. A few people are tearing up. So am I.
I unfold the paper. “I wanted to share one of my favorite passages from My Enemy the Earl with y’all. I think it really captures my feelings about love stories and happily ever after. And of course I always love showin’ off my girl’s talent.” I clear my throat. “‘I may be named Gunnar.’ His eyes flicked to meet hers. ‘And I may ride a sinister black horse. But I am not afraid to admit I like a good love story, same as you, Cate.’
She was looking down again, her hair falling around her face.
‘It’s easy to dismiss stories like that,’ Cate replied. ‘Love stories. People say they are silly. That they are fantasies. But I happen to think the fantasies improve reality. Make it more bearable, anyway. It’s nice seeing how the happiest endings arise from the most hopeless places.’
Olivia, I was in a hopeless place when we met. But with you, I found my happy ending. I love you so much. Happy birthday, baby.”
The room erupts in thunderous applause. Olivia is in my arms again, pressing messy kisses to my lips, my chin, my nose.
“Best. Speech. Ever,” she breathes into my ear.
“Was the Gunnar quote too much?” I ask.
“Is me asking you for a quickie in the bathroom right now too much?” she replies, pulling back to give me a sly little grin.
I wrap an arm around her waist and start to tug her across the restaurant. “Hell no. Let’s go.”
I hope you enjoyed reading Eli and Olivia’s story as much as I loved writing it! In fact, I loved it so much that I wrote a BONUS EPILOGUE that may or may not contain a proposal (!!!!). If you’d like to find out how Eli pops the question, you can get the bonus epilogue for FREE by signing up for my newsletter.
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Want to read the rest of the Charleston Heat Series AND save a few bucks? Grab the Boxset! It includes all four books, meaning you get over 1,200 pages of southern sizzle. Keep reading for an excerpt from SOUTHERN PLAYER, Luke + Gracie’s book.
SOUTHERN PLAYER Excerpt
Gracie
My heart is popping around inside my chest as I hit Luke’s number and bring the phone to my ear. Not daring to breathe as the ringtone blares once, twice—
“Somebody’s soaked through her pantalettes and is back for more,” Luke says.
I smile. The balls on this guy.
Acute need twists low in my belly. Heaviness gathering, begging to be let loose.
“I would have soaked through them if I were wearing any.”
A pause.
“You’re naked,” he says.
“Yes. I’m in my bathtub. Listening to My Deal With the Duke. And I got hungry.”
“Romance makes you hungry, huh? Tell me more.”
“It’s a genre that stimulates the mind as well as the body,” I tease.
“Deadly combination. Are you really in the bath?”
“I am.” I lift my leg, making the water splash so he can hear it.
He groans. “Jesus Christ, Grace.”
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Can you at least give me a chance to say hello before you get me all hard and shit?”
The image flashes through my mind: Luke lying down in his bed. One arm tucked underneath his head. The other reaching inside those fucking jeans and grabbing his dick.
My mouth waters at the memory of his taste. Salt. Skin. Him.
“Is now a good time?” I ask. “I don’t mean to bother you—”
“Baby, you callin’ for phone sex is never a bother. I always got time for that.”
My chest swells a little bit. “You sure? And how’d you know that’s what I was calling for?”
“Lucky guess. It’s too late for either of us to travel. And your voice—I could tell by your voice. It’s different. Little huskier than normal.”
My entire body pulses. The water suddenly feels a little too hot.
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you.”
I take a deep breath. Making my nipples break the surface of the water.
“Hi, Luke,” I say.
“Hey, Gracie,” he replies. He groans again, a little softer this time.
“What was that?”
“That was me lyin’ down on my bed. Figure it’s best to be comfortable for this kinda thing.”
Oh Goooodddddd.
“Are you wearing a shirt?”
He chuckles. This masculine sound that makes my nipples harden.
“As a matter of fact, I’m not. Had a long day here on the farm, so I just showered. I’m wearin’ a pair of sweats.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“They don’t happen to be grey, do they?”
Another chuckle. “Yes, they’re grey. And yes, they leave very little to the imagination.”
Picturing Luke in his big cozy bed, no shirt, smelling like the shower, uncut cock bulging against the thin fabric of his sweats—
I’m surprised I don’t have a fembot moment, my head exploding from too much hairy sexiness.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” I ask.
“Gracie. I promise I’m okay with this, and that you’re not bein’ a bother. I’d let you know otherwise.”
“Okay.” I let out a breath. “Okay.”
A beat of uncomfortable silence. Now that we’ve agreed to do this, I feel a little…awkward. Since I’m the one who initiated, I need to be the one to take the lead here. I’m just not quite sure how to do that.
I try to focus on the sensations moving through me. Focus on what Luke said yesterday.
Tell me everything.
You got the prettiest little pussy I ever seen.
Yup, that’s it.
“If you were here, you’d…” I say, switching my phone from my right hand to my left. How did this
bathtub sex thing go down with Max and Jane again? “You’d come into my bathroom and kneel beside the tub.”
“There bubbles in that bath? Or is the water clear so I can see everything?”
I glide my hand down my chest and cup my breast. “No bubbles. I use epsom salts.”
Another groan. “What do your tits look like?”
“You look at them, and my nipples get hard. So you roll up your sleeve and you reach down, cupping one.” My pulse is drumming. But I’m too turned on to stop. “You play with my nipple.”
I start to do the same, running my thumb over it. A slow, patient circle. Just how Luke would do it. A charge of heat bolts through me, landing in my clit.
“Aw. Aw, yeah. Okay.” He sucks in a breath. “Then what?”
“Then you’d play with the other. Eyes on my face the whole time. You’d make me wet. Really, really wet.”
“You like it when I play with your nipples,” he says.
“I’m playing with them right now.”
“Fuck. Gracie—honey, I gotta touch myself. Tell me how.”
I bite my lip. Luke took charge last night. But he’s asking me to take the lead.
I am the one calling the shots.
The thought excites me.
I don’t know why I’m surprised by this. I guess I didn’t think I’d like dominating. Too much exposure to Christian Grey or something.
But I am turned on by it. The idea that I have complete control over this giant piece of man. No denying that.
Immediately resistance rises up inside me. Too weird too dirty too embarrassing.
I hesitate.
But then I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Then another. My body blinking awake with awareness as I walk those negative thoughts back.
Luke is handing me one of my fantasies on a silver platter. I don’t know when I’ll have an opportunity like this again.
I have to take it. I owe it to myself to try.
My heart marks a staccato beat. Try. It. Try. It.
Try it.
I pinch my nipple.
“You gonna do exactly as I say?” I ask.
“Down to the stroke. Yes. But for fuck’s sake, make it happen sooner rather than later. I’m hurtin’, baby.”
Southern Charmer Page 27
