Southern Player Read online

  Okay. We’ve pretty much checked off every item from Gracie’s bucket list. The anal, the sixty-nine, the sex in public. Although—

  Wait, we haven’t checked off role play.

  My pulse leaps. What if we role played Regency romance style? Could be a nice segue into how I changed my erring ways and why. I need to explain everything to her. Make her understand that what I thought was my truth was really just a perversion of it. Warped by fear and insecurity.

  No better way to show a girl how secure you are than to show up dressed like a Regency Duke, right?

  Right.

  At least I hope I’m right.

  The whole thing needs to be romantic and thoughtful and fucking perfect. Only what Gracie deserves. Especially after what I put her through.

  But what if it’s not enough?

  What if she doesn’t even answer my goddamn call?

  I lace my fingers and bring them to the back of my head, letting it fall back as I blow out a breath.

  There is a very good chance Gracie shoots me down. But I gotta try. I gotta show her how sorry I am, and how much she means to me.

  Because I don’t think I can go on without her. She’s the one. My very own Lady Jane. The woman who turned my world upside down in all the best ways.

  I want forever, and I want it with her.

  So I pull a Max the Duke. I grab my phone, sit back down on the bed, and open a blank page on my notes app.

  I start to write. First an apology. I want to make sure I get down all the things I’m feeling. All the things I want to say. I ain’t risking my future happiness with some half-assed impromptu speech. This gotta be good. Cute and funny and heartfelt.

  Something Gracie would appreciate and connect with.

  I cry while I write it.

  I cry, too, when, finished memorizing my speech, I start to type out a to-do list. Setting this up is gonna be a full time job for a lot of people. I make a note to call my mamas, Eli. Marie.

  Fuck, I need to find someone who knows French. Or maybe attempt to learn a few lines myself.

  I’ll do it.

  I’ll do anything to get my girl back.

  Surveying my list, I queue up my contacts next. Grab the book and settle it on my lap.

  Olivia is my first call.

  She picks up on the second ring.

  “Luke!” she says. “I’m so happy to hear from you. Did you get the book?”

  “I did. Thank you. I actually just finished it.”

  She whistles. “That was fast.”

  “I fuckin’ loved it. Thank you for sending it over—it was just what I needed. Gave me so many ideas to get Gracie back.”

  I hear the smile in Olivia’s voice when she speaks. “So you’ve seen the error of your ways, then?”

  “Lordy, have I. Max and Jane have been an education, Olivia. In more ways than one. But let’s talk about them another time. Right now, I need your help.”

  “Talk to me.”

  I glance down at the guy on the cover. “Do you happen to know where I can find some breeches?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Gracie

  I’m not able to check my phone until after eight, when my meetings for the day wrap up.

  My heart falls out of my chest onto the floor when I see I have a missed call and a voicemail from Luke Rodgers.

  My hands shake as I tap the voicemail and bring my phone to my ear.

  “Gracie. Hey. It’s Luke. Um. Luke Rodgers.” A pause. “I’m not really sure where to start here. Totally understand if you delete this message without listening to it. Only what I deserve after the way I treated you. I’m so—” Another pause. This one longer. Filled with feeling. “I’m sorry, Grace. I never been more sorry in my life. I’ve done some thinking. Some ass kicking. Kicking my own ass, I mean. Again, totally understand if you want me to fuck off forever. Just say the word and I won’t bother you ever again. But if you’d have me, I’d like to see you. I have some things I’d like to say. If you’re okay with that, would you like to meet me at the farm sometime later this week? Tomorrow evenin’, maybe? I’ll work my schedule around yours. I hope to hear from you, Gracie. I miss you, baby.” He lets out a strained breath. “So damn much. Hope you’re havin’ a good day. I’m sorry. Bye, Grace.”

  Tears spring to my eyes. Unwelcome and hot.

  I hold my other hand to my mouth as I fall into the chair behind my desk.

  I’m shaking.

  What do I do what do I do oh Jesus what the hell do I do here?

  Do I make him sweat? The past couple days have been horrible. Horrible. I want him to feel this kind of searing, soaring pain, too.

  I want to hurt him the way he’s hurt me.

  But then I listen to the voicemail again. And again. My stomach dipping each time at the naked pain in Luke’s voice.

  The guy is already hurting. That much is obvious.

  Setting my phone down, I stare at it as I fall back against my chair. Do I trust that Luke is for real this time? I mean, sure. Maybe he’s done some thinking. Maybe he’s feeling better about things today.

  But he changed his mind so suddenly—so swiftly—two days ago. Who’s to say he won’t change it again? Feel better today only to feel hopeless enough to walk out on me tomorrow?

  That’s not him.

  Somewhere deep down, I recognize that isn’t Luke. He’s a good man. A steady, stable guy.

  But that same guy made me question things about myself I should’ve never had to think about. Like whether or not I was good enough for him.

  Whether or not I was enough, period.

  I am done playing that game.

  I also miss him. So much. I cannot—

  I can’t stand to be away from him like this. The violence of this craving I have for him scares me. I feel sick with it. With the need to just be with him. Smell him and touch him and exist in the same room with him.

  I miss the way he made me feel. Like everything is going to be all right.

  Like I’m all right, just as I am.

  I pick up my phone. Tears leaking out of my eyes as I listen to his voicemail again, the sound of his voice making goosebumps break out on my arms.

  I’m in love with him.

  That was not a choice.

  But giving him another chance? That is.

  Trusting him again is a choice.

  I have to decide. But how can I do that if I don’t talk to him first? If I don’t hear him out? Give him a chance to explain himself?

  It’s a risk. I know that if I see Luke again, it’s going to be very, very hard not to cave at first sight.

  But I can trust myself. Same as I can trust him to be real. He wouldn’t be asking to meet if he didn’t have something important to say.

  Luke would never waste my time. That much I know.

  I’m still shaking when I pick my phone back up. Heart throbbing in my ears when I hit his number.

  It hardly rings before he picks it up.

  “Hey, Gracie.”

  Just his voice.

  The sound.

  My name.

  Relief and anguish on both sides of the phone.

  “Hi.”

  I hear him let out a breath. “How you been?”

  “Not great.”

  Another breath. “I’m really sorry, Grace. If it makes you feel any better, I been goin’ through hell, too. Haven’t slept. Can’t eat. I just…I guess I just think about you and go for long sad rides on my tractor. When I’m not ridin’, I’m listenin’ to Trisha—just her sad songs, though. And Lordy are they sad.”

  I scoff. “Are you shirtless when you’re doing all this?”

  “‘Course.”

  “What is it with you and my brother never wanting to wear clothes? Y’all, like, make some kind of pact or something to live your lives half naked?”

  Luke laughs. This rumbly, delicious, familiar sound that makes my gut contract.

  I’d worried I’d never hear that sound again.


  “Guess we just like to be free is all. I hear the women in our lives don’t exactly mind it. Olivia said it was the first thing she noticed about your brother when they met—that he never wore a shirt.”

  “No surprise there,” I say, smiling. “Worked out all right for them.”

  “I hope it works out for us, too, Gracie.”

  My heart flips. For a second, I don’t know what to say.

  Am I being an idiot for talking to him like this? Like we’re back to who we were before? Eli’s baby sister and his best friend. Flirting like we have nothing to lose.

  Or am I doing the right thing, offering this gorgeous, giving man another chance?

  “Luke,” I say. “I don’t understand what happened.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I cannot say that enough to you, Gracie girl. If you’ll let me, I’d like to explain myself. There’s a lot I’d like to say.”

  I exhale. It gets caught on the lump in my throat, making more tears spring to my eyes.

  “There’s stuff I’d like to say, too,” I manage.

  “Aw, baby—you cryin’?”

  I nod. Unable to speak.

  “Tomorrow,” he says. “You free? I don’t mean to be pushy, I just—I can’t take you hurtin’ like this. Please let me see you tomorrow.”

  I nod again. Face crumpling against the force of all the things that this call—this man—is making me feel.

  “Tomorrow works,” I say.

  “Good.” He lets out a breath. “And Gracie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you. For giving me a chance. I don’t deserve it. But I promise I will make it worth your while.”

  I swallow. Look down at my lap.

  Heart torn halfway between hurt and hope.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Luke

  I step into the barn to see my mamas running around the space like chickens with their heads cut off.

  “You got the candles?” Gwen calls, spearing stems of lilies into a crystal glass.

  “Have ’em right here,” Mama huffs, setting a cardboard box down on the table in the middle of the room. “Flowers’re looking mighty sexy.”

  “Thanks, honey.” Gwen turns to kiss Mama. “So are you.”

  “All this romance in the air got me in some kinda mood, I’ll say that much.”

  “Think we got time for a quickie—”

  “No,” I say, my ridiculous riding boots making a racket as I move toward my mamas. “Nope. No quickies. Not until everything is perfect, y’all hear me?”

  Mama’s face lights up when she turns to look at me.

  “My, my. Aren’t you a vision!”

  “Who’re you supposed to be again?” Gwen asks, adjusting her glasses. “Paul Revere? King George? That hunk from Outlander—what’s his name?”

  “Jamie Frasier. Sam Heughan. Same thing in my mind.” Mama beams at me. “You’re just as handsome, Luke. Who knew my boy looked so good in a cravat?”

  I tug at the garment in question, clearing my throat. “I’m supposed to be Maximilian John Lockley, the fourth Duke of Haverford, from Olivia’s book—My Deal With the Duke. Not sure if I’m really pullin’ it off, though. I feel more like an idiot than I do a Duke.”

  “Coulda fooled me,” Mama says, kissing my cheek. “Gracie is gonna love it.”

  I set down the plates I carried over from the house. Let out a breath. I’m so nervous my hands are shaking a little.

  “That’s the hope. I need to pull out all the stops, Mama. I gotta get this girl back.”

  “You will,” she replies, matter-of-factly. “No one can resist you. Whether you’re dressed as a farmer or a very fetching aristocrat.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I shoot back. “Think it’s safe to say you’re biased.”

  “Course I am! But even so. I know you better than anyone, Luke. Flesh and blood aside—you’re a good man by any standard. You work hard and love harder. Look around you.” Mama gestures to the barn I’ve labored day and night to turn into a Regency restaurant-slash-dreamscape-slash-ballroom-slash-bar. “You’ll go to great lengths to make the people you care about feel loved. Feel seen. Gracie loves Regency romance, so you’re bringing a scene from one of her favorite books to life. Costumes and candles and all. If that’s not good love, I don’t know what is. The rest will fall into place.”

  I swallow the tightness in my throat. “Thanks, Mama.”

  Let’s hope she’s right.

  “Doesn’t hurt that you’re so handsome,” she adds.

  “You got good, girthy produce, too,” Gwen says. “Don’t forget that important detail.”

  I laugh.

  Needed that.

  “So we’ll set the table. Get the flowers and the candles ready.” Gwen looks up from her vase. “What else can we do?”

  I reach down, wanting to slide my hands into my pockets. Only my breeches don’t have pockets, so I dig my pocket watch out of my waistcoat instead. Overkill? Yes. But like I said, I need to pull out all the stops here. I’m going for one hundred percent authenticity. Right down to the candles and the coffee I ground by hand.

  Although I guess the grits, the beer, and the instrumental Trisha Yearwood I found on iTunes didn’t exactly exist in Max the Duke’s time.

  Going for ninety percent authenticity, then.

  I look down at the watch. It’s quarter to five. Two solid hours before Gracie arrives.

  “Elijah is deliverin’ the food here in a bit here. Marie is bringing dessert. Otherwise, I think we’re set. Thank y’all for your help. There’s no way I could’ve done it without you. I appreciate it, Mama.”

  Mama smiles. “We’re happy to help. You know we love Gracie. I can’t wait for y’all to make up so you can live happily ever after and make me some grandbabies.”

  My heart skips a beat. I don’t want to get my hopes up too high. There’s no guarantee Gracie will accept my apology and take me back.

  But if she does—

  We got a future of tractor rides and good food and good people and, yeah, hopefully some babies ahead of us.

  Damn do I like the sound of that.

  Gracie

  I’m surprised to see my brother’s truck pulled up outside Luke’s house.

  I’m even more surprised to see Olivia leaning against it, a small smile on her lips as she watches me approach.

  Heart beating loudly in my ears, I roll down my window.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  I pull into the spot beside her. Turn off the engine.

  Olivia just smiles, pushing off the truck. Making my heart beat faster.

  “You’ll see. C’mon.” She tilts her head toward the house. “Let’s go inside so you can change.”

  “Change?” I’m so confused. “Into what?”

  “Luke has something he wants you to wear.”

  What in the world? Does he, like, want me to wear a negligee or something? A bathing suit? Are we going swimming?

  What is going on?

  Olivia slips her arm through mine, and together we head up the front steps and into the house.

  I’m immediately hit by the scent of coffee. Freshly brewed from the smell of it.

  We pass by the kitchen and I see my brother at the stove. Shirtless, of course. A towel thrown over his shoulder as he shimmies a sauté pan back and forth over a burner.

  “Eli?” I say.

  Now I’m really confused.

  He glances over his shoulder. “Don’t mind me. Go with Olivia and get dressed.”

  “What are—”

  “You’ll know soon enough. Get dressed, Gracie.”

  I feel lightheaded as Olivia leads me to a back bedroom on the first floor.

  There’s a beautiful white dress laid out on the bed, along with a pair of the cutest nude-colored ballet flats.

  I stare at it. Wanting to smile. Cry. Ask a million questions because I am even more mystified now than I was when I pulled up to the house.

  I
nstead, I let Olivia help me into the dress. It’s got a low neckline and an empire waist. These sweet little sleeves that pucker out at the ends.

  “Almost looks like something one of your heroines would wear,” I say, smoothing the pristine fabric over my stomach.

  “It’s a little big,” Olivia remarks. “We didn’t have a ton of time to put this together. But I still think it looks fabulous on you.”

  “This was Luke’s idea?”

  “This was all Luke. Yes.”

  I turn to see her smiling. That knowing smile she wears whenever I mention Luke. Whenever we’re together.

  She tugs the zipper up my back. “Feel okay?”

  “Feels great. Just wish I knew what it was for.”

  “Put on your shoes,” she says, dropping them at my feet. “Then I’m driving you to the barn.”

  This time I don’t even ask about the barn, because I know I won’t get an answer.

  I’m brimming with anticipation as Olivia guides Elijah’s gigantic pickup down the driveway. Sun setting behind us, casting the world in a pink-orange glow. The air is warm but not humid tonight. Cool enough to have the windows down.

  When the barn comes into sight, it looks just like it did the other day.

  I furrow my brow. Why, then, do I get the feeling something about it is different?

  Why do I get the feeling everything is about to be different?

  Olivia pulls up to the side of the barn and puts the truck in park. She points at the large barn door in front of us, painted wooden beams marking an x across it.

  “Go in there,” she says, looking at me. “Don’t be afraid to give the door some muscle.”

  I look at her. Look at the door.

  I put my hand on the truck door, my fingers working nervously over the cool leather. Look back at Olivia.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing. But if you’re doing it to help Luke—help us—then thank you. Thank you for everything, Olivia. If you hadn’t written Max and Jane’s story—if you hadn’t been there to help convince my brother that me hooking up with Luke was a good idea—I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. And even we don’t end up working out, I’m glad I got to be with Luke. At least for a little while.” I manage a smile. “I’m so glad I have you. Eli is stupid lucky to have literally almost run you over.”