Southern Bombshell (North Carolina Highlands 5)

“Maybe.” I scratch my head. “I don’t know. Whatever the case, I don’t want to hurt you again. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

She looks at me, throat working as she swallows. I cover her hand on my thigh with my own, bringing it to my lips. I brush them across her knuckles.

“This wasn’t just a hookup,” I continue.

“I know. But it wasn’t a promise either.”

I nod, feeling a familiar stab of anger. I want to make her promises, and I want to be able to keep them. But my hands are tied. I don’t know how to be with her and keep her safe.

The least I can do, though, is try. Because if I’ve learned one thing since I ghosted Milly two years ago, it’s that our connection is real, it’s rare, and it’s something I absolutely don’t want to give up. I’ve tried finding it with other people. I imagine she has too.

But here we are, sleep-deprived and sex drunk, mooning at each other like love-sick teenagers. It’s obvious I can’t stay away from this woman. At this point, it feels dumb to try.

“I want you,” I reply. “That’s all I can say right now. But I want to be with you, Milly, so fucking bad it’s killing me. If you’ll give me time, I’ll take it, and I’ll try my damnedest to make this right.”

She nods, her hair scraping over the collar of her puffer coat. “Okay.”

“Can I call you in the meantime?”

“Can you call me?” She rolls her eyes, her smile returning. “Yes, Nathaniel, you can call me, and you can get me naked.”

“Two for one.”

“Don’t get fresh.” She turns back to the wheel. “It turns me on too much, and my body is wrecked right now.”

I lean in and kiss her jaw. She turns her head again and captures my mouth in a long, lingering kiss. A bolt of desire rips through me, and I wonder vaguely what the record is for most fucks in a twenty-four-hour period and if we’ve broken it.

“Let me know when you get home,” I murmur when I pull away. “Drive safe, okay?”

“You mean drive like you.”

I grin, hooking my fingers over the door handle. “Exactly. Night, Milly.”

“Good night, Nate.”

I watch Milly’s headlights disappear around a bend in my driveway. Then I unlock the front door and step inside the cabin. Lucy greets me with a tail that wags so hard it feels like a whip against my shins.

Bending down to pick her up, I tuck her into the crook of my elbow. “Hey, you. Did Uncle Silas take good care of you? He’d better, or I’ll kick his sorry ass.”

Looks like Silas did a solid job. Lucy’s water and food bowls are full, the heat’s turned up, and she doesn’t go for the back door, which means she was recently let out to go to the bathroom.

I’m digging my phone out of my pocket to call him and say thanks when I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel outside.

Furrowing my brow, I glance out the window beside the door. Milly again? Did I forget something? I texted Silas and told him I was on my way home, so he shouldn’t be here to let Lucy out again.

Headlights slice through the window. They’re a shade of blinding, neon blue—halogens.

My stomach clenches. Dad’s the only one who drives a car new enough to have those.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask after I step out on the front porch, Lucy still in my arms. No way am I inviting this man in.

Dad closes the door and heads toward the steps. “Was that Milly Beauregard I just passed? I seem to remember her driving a white Mini Cooper. Looked a lot like that one.”

My stomach clenches again, harder.

Shit.

I don’t say a word. Dad’s like a redneck court of law—anything I say can and will be used against me. I may owe the man my life, but I don’t owe him an explanation.

Well, not about Milly.

As if he can read my thoughts, he comes to a stop at the foot of the steps and puts his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I heard you ain’t gettin’ married no more.”

Christ, I should’ve known the old bastard would find out. I don’t ask him who told him—I’m thinking it had to be Chris Noble—because it doesn’t matter. I wanted to give Chris a call tomorrow anyway to clear the air and check in with him. It’s the right thing to do. What ultimately matters is making sure he doesn’t add fuel to a potentially explosive fire.

If Dad saw Milly, he knows she and I are sleeping together. Anyone else might think she came over to talk about wedding-related stuff—cancellation fees, getting deposits back—but Dad knows better. He knows Reese is handling the fallout from calling off our engagement.