Southern Bombshell (North Carolina Highlands 5)

“Of course I’m excited. I never thought we’d be out of the red, Reese, so to know we’ll be turning a profit—”

“A big one. With bigger years to come.”

“It’s fucking great. I’m proud of us”—I raise my glass—“and proud of you. Cheers. And congratulations on crushing it in Charleston.”

“We still have a ways to go before we close the Blowfish deal, but I’ll cheers to Kingsley Distilling,” she says, and proceeds to rattle off a series of insanely high and insanely exciting numbers.

We talk more numbers after we order our food. My head throbs and my stomach rumbles, and when our food finally arrives after a small eternity, I want to cry tears of joy.

Only, looking at my artfully arranged but mostly bare plate of what is essentially a toddler-sized nibble of lamb, I just want to cry, period.

“Look how beautiful that is!” Reese gasps. “Good thing I don’t like lamb or I’d have to steal a bite.”

But seriously, good thing she doesn’t like lamb, because after she took a bite there’d be none left for me.

“I started a new book,” I say. “Elton over at Malaprop’s recommended this epic fantasy. Name of the Wind. It’s fucking excellent—I’m only a quarter of the way in, and I can already tell it’ll have a spot on my keeper shelf right next to Lord of The Rings.”

Reese cuts one of her two ricotta raviolis in half. “That’s cool.”

“It’s so beautifully written it actually hurts to read it.”

Reese shakes her head. “I give you credit for reading like you do. I haven’t read a book in…God, has to be a year. Maybe more.”

“I got you that Kindle Fire thing,” I say, furrowing my brow. “You said you downloaded some books on it.”

“I did, and it was a great gift, Nate. Really. But then I discovered I could use it for answering emails, and any time I picked it up to read, I just ended up working instead.”

I scoff. “Not you.”

“I know,” she says with a smile. “I am my father’s daughter. Oh! Speaking of Dad—that social media manager he’s been after, you know, the woman who was working with Ketel One? He finally got her to agree to talk!”

I stare dolefully at my empty plate. I’m still hungry. “Great news. She’s next level.”

“Totally. I can’t wait to pick her brain about the ideas she has for Kingsley Distilling. I think we really work the ‘here’s what makes us different’ angle—the tradition, the legacy. The fact that y’all make your whiskey in North Carolina. It will help cement our reputation as a destination for whiskey drinkers.”

“Speaking of destinations.” I wipe my mouth on my napkin before folding it in half and settling it on my lap. “Have you given the honeymoon any more thought?”

Reese drops her fork and puts her hand on her forehead. “Oh, shit, I haven’t! I’m sorry. You still stuck on Scotland?”

“I’d love to do Scotland, yeah.”

“We can talk about it.”

“Can we talk about it now?”

“Actually.” Reese glances over her shoulder at the bar, where people have begun to dance. “How do you feel about a nightcap over there? It’s been a long week . . .”

I’m hungry. I’m tired. I want nothing more than to take this girl home and take her to bed. We still haven’t had sex, and I miss it. I miss her.

I still follow Reese to the bar and order us another round, jostling for space among the writhing bodies that seem to press in on us from every angle.

I lean in to shout over the music. “Come home with me.”

We still haven’t figured out what we’re going to do when it comes to our living arrangements. Reese owns a swanky condo in one of the new high-rises downtown. I wouldn’t say I hate it, but it’s just . . . not my scene. Being the on-the-go city girl she is, she doesn’t exactly love my cabin way out in the woods either. Luckily, we’re both willing to compromise, and we’ve talked about finding a plot of land somewhere between here and downtown where we could build Reese’s dream house. Nothing has caught our eye yet, but we’re looking, and we’re working out what our plan should be in the meantime. Reese’s condo is bigger than my place, but I have a great yard for the dog. The cabin is closer to the distillery, where Reese and I both have offices, but her condo is closer to the city’s booming restaurant and bar scene.

We’ll figure it out.

“Can you come home with me?” Reese shouts back, shimmying her hips to the music. “I have a hair appointment in the morning downtown.”

“I have Lucy,” I reply.

“Lucy! How could I forget her? What about tomorrow night then?”

“Tomorrow works. Let’s make it a deal, as long as we pick a spot for the honeymoon.”