Southern Gentleman: A Charleston Heat Novel

by Peterson, Jessica

  When she sees me, her whole face lights up. Smile broadening, she leaps off the couch and wraps me in a hug.

  I laugh, tearing up all over again. She is nothing short of radiant. Happiness and excitement coming off her in waves.

  “Happy wedding day, friend,” I say, giving her a squeeze. “How’s it going so far?”

  Olivia pulls back, still smiling. “I woke up with Elijah beside me. Had a cup of my favorite coffee from Gracie’s and a grits bowl, made Elijah’s way. My parents are entertaining themselves and their friends at the restaurant downstairs. And I get to hang out with my favorite women in the world while someone else blow dries my hair. Needless to say, it’s the best day ever.”

  “You are glowing. I’m so happy for y’all. And excited to celebrate! I feel like I haven’t been out or danced in forever.”

  “The band we hired is kind of the best,” Olivia says. “There’s a horn section, backup singers, the whole nine yards. I told Eli my number one request for our wedding was to see him shaking his ass on a dance floor. Everything else was secondary.”

  Gracie grins. “This is already my favorite wedding, and it hasn’t even happened yet. Wait ’til y’all see the barn.”

  “Is it magical?” I ask.

  “I took a peek this morning—Luke was up with the sun and has been helping out over there ever since—and it is gorgeous,” she says, looking at me. “You and Greyson did such a fabulous job with the space. Now that they’re dolling it up, it’s nothing short of spectacular. So, so romantic.”

  I look at Olivia. Wrap her in another hug. “Sounds perfect for our resident romance novelist.”

  “I just can’t wait to marry him,” she replies. “I never thought I’d feel this way about someone, you know? Least of all a Southern chef covered in tattoos.”

  “It’s always the guys you don’t expect that end up making you the happiest,” Gracie says. “I think all three of us can attest to that.”

  “Amen, sister,” I say.

  Olivia looks at me. “Greyson’s making you pretty damn happy.”

  It’s not a question.

  It’s a statement. She knows.

  I put a hand on my face. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Oh yeah,” Gracie says, pointing to Olivia and me. “Both of you are glowing.”

  “Things are good,” I reply. “Not perfect. But they’re really good, y’all. I’m with you, Olivia—not that I never thought I’d feel this way about someone. But I never thought that I could feel this excited after the start Grey and I had. Could be the fact that I’m feeling like myself again now that I’m out of my first trimester, but I’m kind of in love with him. In love with our life together.”

  “Aw.” Olivia wraps an arm around my waist. “I’m happy for you guys. Truly. Told you Greyson was a stand-up guy.”

  “Just had to peel back all the growly, grumpy layers,” Gracie says.

  I smile. “I don’t mind the growling.”

  “Now that sounds like an interesting kink,” Olivia says.

  “Almost as interesting as Charlotte’s broody kilted Scotsman kink,” I say. “I finished my fourth re-read of My Romp With the Rogue. Safe to say I’m obsessed. I don’t know how you do it, but I saw so much of myself—and my own story—in the characters.”

  Olivia smiles. Her eyes twinkle, the way they always do when she talks about her books. “The magic of romance. It’s a real thing.”

  “Totally,” Gracie agrees. “My Deal with the Duke was the book that gave me the idea—and the balls—to approach Luke about a little sexual deal of our own.”

  I laugh. “You fell for his penis, and then you fell for him.”

  “I think it happened all at once. Fortunately, there’s no separating one from the other when it comes to Luke.”

  “The Luke Lady Dagger claims its last victim,” Olivia says.

  We spend the morning and part of the afternoon in the suite. Chatting. Drinking mimosas (mine are, sadly, very light on the champagne) while getting fake eyelashes applied. Generally basking in our love for each other and our shared love for the happy couple.

  My heart is so full and swollen it feels tender to the touch. It’s all I can do not to wince whenever I breathe.

  The photographers arrive just as we’re finishing up a late lunch. Gracie and I, along with Olivia’s mom and aunt, help her into her dress and shoes.

  We board a bus and head thirty minutes west of the city, to Wadmalaw Island where Rodgers’ Farms is located. I’m buzzing with excitement at the prospect of seeing Grey. I’ve been away from him for all of, what, six hours, but I miss him.

  I step off the bus when we get to the farm, and there he is. The late afternoon light painting him in gauzy tones.

  Greyson.

  Standing by the barn door, like he’s waiting for someone. Hands clasped in front of him.

  Oozing George Clooney deliciousness in a crisply cut tux. Broad shoulders filling out the jacket to perfection. Satin lapels giving his look an Old Hollywood-meets-hipster vibe. Dark hair combed in a classic swoop to the side.

  Just enough scruff to make the insides of my thighs tingle. His scruff always catches me there as he makes his way down to my pussy.

  Ford is beside him. A tattoo peeking out of the sleeve of his jacket as he reaches up and runs a hand through his hair. The motion reminds me so much of Greyson. The two of them are different—Ford is warmer, chiller, freer with his thoughts and emotions—but very much alike, too.

  As an only child, I can’t help but be intrigued by that. Tickled by it, too.

  My eyes move back to Grey. I notice the cut of his tuxedo—the pants especially—is different from the suits he usually wears. It’s…tighter. A bit more daring.

  Makes me smile. Small thing, but it still shows Grey’s taking a chance. Putting himself out there.

  I love it.

  I love him.

  I drink him in for a full beat. Heart twirling inside my chest like it’s being spun around the room in a My Romp With the Rogue-style waltz. I can’t believe I just thought those words. I love him.

  I can’t believe this is happening. It’s bewildering. And wonderful.

  That’s my man right there.

  Never in a million years would I have picked him out of a lineup. But I’m pretty damn glad he’s mine.

  I move toward him, careful not to let my heels sink into the grass. He turns his head and our eyes meet.

  “Hey,” he says, lips parting as his eyebrows shoot up. “Jules, you look stunning. Wow.”

  My heart rises. Through my chest, throat. Mouth.

  It’s outside my body.

  It doesn’t belong to me anymore.

  Grey holds it in his hands as he kisses me. As he takes my hand and walks me into the barn, Ford waving us off with a smile. As the two of us marvel at how gorgeous the space is. Modern and romantic and full of character.

  The cabinets and countertops look amazing. So does the hardware I selected. Rustic with a modern, sophisticated edge. Layout is spacious without feeling empty. The beams we installed in the ceiling are statement pieces, especially with simple wrought iron chandeliers, decked out with greenery and flowers. A bar is being set up on the massive countertop at the back of the barn. The reclaimed floorboards are just the right amount of roughed up, a perfect counterpoint to the strings of fairy lights and swoops of gauze that hang overhead.

  New windows let in the pretty autumn light, bathing everything in shades of amber and gold. People mill around the space, admiring the details, the flowers. The cute programs, bound in green ribbon, that dot the long benches at the front of the barn.

  I’m smiling so hard my face aches.

  I look at Grey. He looks back.

  “Your work is magic, you know,” he says. “This place is fucking unbelievable.”

  Nudging him with my elbow, I reply, “You’re the one who gave Luke’s business a fighting chance. This is your work, too. Although mine is clearly more beautiful. Especial
ly when it’s been zhuzh-ed up by a team of wedding planners and florists.”

  He grins. Blue eyes lighting up. “I’m proud of you, Jules.”

  “I’m proud of us.”

  “You think Charlie Brown is, too?”

  I curl my hands around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. His hands go to my waist, his thumbs working small, soft arcs across the just-barely-there swell of my abdomen.

  “I think Charlie Brown is a lucky kid to have parents like us. She’s going to be just fine.”

  The ceremony is beautiful. Grey’s hand wrapped around mine, I beam the entire time. I’ve always loved weddings. But witnessing one of my best friends marry the man who helped make her dreams come true fills me to the brim with joy. She looks gorgeous in her dress and heels. Eli looks handsome as hell in his tuxedo as he pledges “to provide all the inspiration you’ll ever need for your books—the sex scenes and all the other scenes, too.”

  Sitting next to Grey, the broad expanse of his thigh pressed against mine, doesn’t hurt.

  I notice he keeps his jacket buttoned so that his crotch is covered.

  “What’s that about?” I whisper, nodding at it.

  His eyes slide to meet mine. He’s blushing a little bit. “You’ll see. Or hopefully you won’t. But it’s kind of—well. Never mind.”

  It’s over too quickly, and all of a sudden we’re standing and clapping and hollering as Eli and Olivia make their way back down the aisle, this time as man and wife. Passing by, she catches my gaze.

  She looks so happy, eyes glistening, that for a second I can’t breathe.

  We head to the counter at the back of the barn for cocktail hour. Grey grabs me a mock gin and tonic—ice, soda water, lime—while he gets himself the real deal.

  “How freaking happy were Eli and Olivia up there?” he says, handing me my mocktail. “I think their smiles had their own force fields.”

  I look at him. Grin. “So does yours.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me I’m smiling. I have to figure out how to stop, damn it. It’s not good for my reputation. It’s just…what we have feels real. I like it.”

  “Real and right.”

  He’s smiling that smile now. The kind with a force field.

  “Real and right. I love that idea.” His eyes search mine. “I love you, Julia. I am so crazy in love with you it terrifies me. But you and David Bowie showed me that can be a good thing.”

  My heart is pounding.

  Fluttering.

  Sighing.

  All those things. Grey is making me feel all the things I always hoped I would about a guy. The excitement and the lust and the respect.

  The way heroines in all the romance I’ve read feel about their heroes.

  “I’m crazy in love with you, too,” I say.

  And then he leans down and kisses the shit out of me. Tongue and everything. Right there in front of the bar for all of Olivia’s hundred and twenty guests to see.

  “Y’all best watch yourselves,” I hear Ford say. “I don’t mind y’alls’ PDA. In fact, I’m a big proponent of public displays of affection. But with Grey’s pants situation…there’s not a lot of room in there for, you know…growth.”

  I break the kiss, laughing, and turn to see Ford smirking at us as he lifts his drink to his mouth.

  “Pants situation?” I glance at Grey.

  He does this little shimmy thing, clearing his throat. Clasping his hands in front of his groin again.

  “Nuh-uh,” I say. “Show me.”

  “You said you liked it when I wear tighter stuff,” he begins.

  “Better tailored. Yeah. Why?”

  “Well.” He lets out an uncomfortable grunt. Glancing around, he quickly unbuttons his jacket and holds it away from his crotch. “Think we went with a look that’s a little too tailored.”

  I pull back with a gasp, eyes going wide. I can see the outline of Grey’s dick through the fine fabric of his pants. The head, the ridge that separates it from the shaft. The shaft itself.

  A pulse of heat moves between my legs.

  “Too tailored to the wrong body part, anyway,” Ford says.

  Luke happens to appear at that moment. He claps Grey on the shoulder.

  “Way to steal the spotlight,” he says, grinning. “All anyone can talk about is what a handsome couple the bride and groom make and that guy wearing the pants that show his dick.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathe, looking at Grey. “You’re Tuxedo Dick Pants.”

  Ford lets out a bark of laughter. “TDP. Classic.”

  I hold up my hand to Grey. “Way to go, baby. You’re already the toast of this party and it’s barely even started.”

  Laughing, Grey gives me a high five, curling his fingers around mine.

  “I was thinking about you when I had these pants made,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking about—”

  “Showing your dick to Olivia’s grandma?” Ford says, raising his brows.

  “No, you jerk off, I wasn’t thinking about that,” Grey shoots back. He turns to me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I say, grinning. “I just can’t wait to see you dance in those TDPs.”

  “But Grey doesn’t dance,” Ford says, teasing.

  I look at Greyson. “We’ll see about that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Greyson

  Despite my unfortunate pants situation, I manage to enjoy myself through cocktail hour and dinner, too.

  Julia doesn’t exactly make things easy in her tight little black dress and sexy high heels. Her bump really popped over the past week, and she’s enjoying showing it off.

  Another thing that dress shows off? Her tits. And ass. And legs.

  Everything, basically. When catching sight of just one of those things is enough to make me hard.

  The combination is gloriously infuriating.

  Julia in a nutshell.

  Goddamn I love this girl.

  I keep things under control by focusing on the food. The conversation Julia and I have with our table mates. The fact that people love the barn and seem to appreciate the work and money we put into the property.

  But when the band starts to play—first song is Al Green’s “All Night Long,” fuck me for life—I know I’m in trouble.

  Julia is on her feet before the first verse is over.

  “Wanna dance?” she asks, running a hand through her hair. The movement is slow and sensuous, and it makes me think about how slow she moves when she’s on top. Riding my cock like she’s got all day. Hands on my chest, head thrown back, tits bouncing. Back arched.

  Pussy spread open. Soft and slick.

  Jesus Christ.

  I grab my water. How long until we go back to the hotel? An hour? A year?

  Why the fuck did I think these pants were a good idea?

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” I say. “Just gonna—”

  Find that exorcist we keep talking about.

  Gargle some gin.

  You know, anything to keep my dick from literally tearing a hole in my pants until I can get this woman naked.

  Julia smiles. “Okay. I’ll go find Gracie. But don’t think I’m going to let you off easy. You will get out on that dance floor tonight.”

  Ford tips his glass in my direction. “You heard her, TDP.”

  “I will,” I say.

  If I don’t take a swim in the marsh nearby to cool the fuck off first.

  I head to the bar for that gin. Order a double and turn around, leaning against the counter. Watch the dance floor fill up.

  Doesn’t take long. The band is excellent, and people are just happy enough—just drunk enough—to let loose. Eli twirls Olivia to Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend.” During the next song, Gracie, Olivia, and a few older women—Olivia’s mom, maybe, and her friends—groove together, laughing.

  Julia is with them. She’s kicked off her heels and is wiggling her ass, her sweet little belly along for the ride as she shimmies her hips in time
to the beat.

  She is so damn adorable. And sexy. And fun.

  Makes me want to be fun, too. Makes me want to have a good time. It’s just been so long—

  Then again, who cares? Why not celebrate? Life is good right now.

  Things are good. And I’m just tipsy enough to really pull a Patrick Swayze. Or Chris Farley, depending on how it goes.

  Julia is singing now, head thrown back as she belts out the lyrics to “Mustang Sally.” Shaking that thing like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

  Her energy—zero fucks given—is contagious.

  “Dude,” Luke says, sidling up to the bar. “You all right?”

  I take a sip of gin, my eyes not leaving Julia. She’s doing the twist now with somebody’s grandma. I can’t help it. I smile.

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  Luke looks at me for a beat. Then he grins, tapping the neck of his beer bottle against my glass.

  “Cheers, Greyson. Congrats. On the baby.” He motions to Julia. “And on her. Y’all look real happy together.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate that.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised y’all ended up together. I knew it the second y’all met—you two had some special kinda connection.”

  I pull back. “But we didn’t get along. Like, at all.”

  Luke wags his eyebrows. “Exactly. Look, even your sperm knew y’all were meant to be. I knew I’d either end up callin’ the cops on you or callin’ it love. Either way, y’all two couldn’t take your eyes off each other. That first day I had half a mind to just slip on out of there to give y’all some privacy.”

  If only he knew Julia and I found all the privacy we needed in the back seat of my truck.

  “Be good to her, you hear?” Luke says.

  “That’s all I care about,” I say. “Her and that baby. Taking care of them. Making them happy.”

  Luke nods, looking at the dance floor. Looking at Gracie.

  “I know how that goes,” he says.

  I catch Julia’s eyes. She smiles. Motions for me to come join her.

  Luke sets his beer down on the bar.

  “Let’s get to it,” he says.

  I follow him to the dance floor, grateful I don’t have to weather the approach alone. Immediately Gracie loops her arms around his neck and pulls him down for a messy, wet kiss. The two of them disappear into the crowd, his hands sliding to her ass as they swing their hips to the beat.