Southern Heartbreaker: A Charleston Heat Novel by Peterson Jessica

Author:Peterson, Jessica
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peterson Paperbacks
Published: 2019-10-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Eva

I don’t know what I did to get Bryce to warm up to me so quickly, but she is a little ball of energy as she tugs me through the barn. Grip firm on my hand, she shows me the drawings she did of fish—“daddy says you make the best”—corn, trees, and, a bit puzzlingly, gnomes.

“Am I missing something with the gnomes?” I murmur to Ford as he passes by, arms laden with extra trays.

“It’s just what we’re into this week,” he says, winking at Bryce. “Better than last week’s obsession with Emojis. Of course she got fixated on the eggplant one—purple is her favorite color—which was super fun when she kept drawing these gigantic phallic shapes at school. We had a great chat with her teacher about that, didn’t we, bun?”

Already I’m smiling so much my cheeks hurt. My nerves recede just the tiniest bit. In the midst of the stress and hurry of all the prep work required to cook for an event like this, I forgot that today might actually be fun.

That bringing people together with my food is actually a really cool thing. In the past, I’ve kicked around the idea of hosting cooking classes, but I never really got around to doing it. Maybe now is a good time to start. It’d be cool to create this sense of community on a more regular basis.

After she’s done showing me her decorations, Bryce asks me to help her sprinkle all the tables with tiny pieces of confetti and handfuls of glitter. When I see the confetti is gold and shaped like pineapples, I just about die of cuteness overload.

“Did you pick these out?” I ask, holding my hand up high over a table as I let the confetti sprinkle down onto the tablecloth.

Bryce tries to do the same. Half the confetti ends up either in her hair or on her crocs. I decide to let her run with it. A little extra sparkle never hurt anyone.

“I did,” she replies proudly. “My daddy helped, though. He said pineapples mean ‘welcome.’ Like, they are saying hello to your friends.”

My heart skips a beat. Ford is busy. But he still took the time to not only organize this whole shindig, but to also incorporate cute, thoughtful touches like pineapple freaking glitter.

Delighting his daughter in the process like the rock star dad he is.

I hear his laugh, and my heart skips a beat again when I glance over my shoulder and see him helping my dad set out the food on two long tables at the front of the barn. Dad unwraps a big bowl of brisket, orange, and jicama salad, which I dressed in this deliciously tangy, peppery vinaigrette. Ford gently tugs the tablecloth back into place, then smooths it out with the flat of his palm.

I feel that tug in my chest. The movement of his palm over my skin. I suck in a breath.

Why why why does he have to be so excellent?

“Eva! Hey!” I turn to see Gracie beside me, lit up and smiling.

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