Southern Bombshell (North Carolina Highlands 5)

My throat thickens. “So this is your way of paying it forward—giving me a leg up.”

“Exactly. I see how hard you work, Nate. Take the shot I’m offering you. I have no doubt it will turn out to be an excellent investment for us both.”

I scratch my head. “How the hell is it an investment for you?”

“I’d like to call in a favor at some point. I don’t know what that favor will be, but I only ask that you answer my call whenever it comes in the future.”

I find myself nodding, the relief inside me growing wings. “I’ll always answer your call. Same as I hope you’ll answer mine.”

“It’s a deal.”

I scoff again, and so does Reese.

“What?” she asks.

“You made that too easy,” I reply. “Now I’m thinking the next phase of my evil plan is going to be that much more difficult. I mean, it’s gotta go down the shitter after this, right?”

“One, your plan isn’t evil. It’s good business sense, and it’s an even better indicator of your personal growth.”

“Wow. Some high praise there.”

“You’re different,” she says, pausing to find the right words. “I mean that in a good way. For so long, you made it your job to smooth whatever feathers Wilson ruffled. Now you’re finally telling him to take a hike. You realized you have better things to do, like ruffle feathers of your own.”

I’m smiling, even if I feel a little sad. “Boundaries are a cool thing.”

“My point exactly. They’re a good thing. And in terms of your plans going down the shitter, that’s not how the universe works. It’s not one step forward, two steps back. It’s just always, always getting back up after whatever ass-kicking you endure and then heading in the right direction. Let’s be real here. It’s not like you’re sending your dad to live in a tent on the side of the road. You buy him out, and he’ll have enough money to live a fancy life wherever the hell he wants.”

“You’re right,” I said. I’ve thought about the idea, but hearing it said aloud makes it feel more concrete.

Makes it real. I’m not hanging Dad out to dry. I’m not leaving him alone and destitute.

In fact, I’m offering a much better deal than he deserves.

“I’ll start the paperwork tomorrow,” Reese says. “Good luck, Nate. I’m rooting for you.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “This means a lot, Reese.”

“Thank you for understanding how important it is to me to be who I am. You respect my need for freedom, and that means the world to me.” I hear her swallow. “Keep me updated on how things go?”

“Absolutely.”

My gut settles—this feels right—and I straighten, reaching behind me to tuck the tail of my shirt back into my jeans. I catch a whiff of something good, so the chicken must be in the oven.

Is life really allowed to be this good?

Better question: why not?

“And Reese,” I say.

“Yeah?”

“I know this severs your ties with Kingsley Distilling. But stay in touch anyway, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

“Take care of yourself, friend.”

“Be careful, Nate.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up. I hear a familiar scrape, and I turn to see Milly peeking through a crack in the front door. Our eyes meet.

I smile.

Without a word, she opens the door and launches herself through it. She takes a running leap into my arms, giggling like an idiot as she presses her lips to mine.

“You did it.”

“We did it.”

“Can we do it again tonight?”

I laugh. “Yeah, baby. We most certainly can.”

Chapter Thirty

Milly

I wake up slowly, luxuriating in the cozy, nubby warmth of Nate’s flannel sheets.

Lucy’s tucked between our right thighs—I’m on my stomach, Nate’s on his back—and when I stretch, she does too, tenting the covers with her stubby little legs.

It’s Saturday, the weekend after Thanksgiving. Most people are enjoying an extended holiday, but I have work to do with Nate. We have to figure out how to confront his dad. I have work to do at the office for the wedding next weekend between the bitcoin billionaire and her fiancé. Needless to say, there’s a lot on my to-do list.

A familiar pressure builds inside my chest. I should get up, make a pot of coffee, and crack open my laptop. Answer some emails and check in with next weekend’s bride and groom.

But I stay put instead. The to-dos will always be there. But this? A quiet morning in, waking up next to the most gorgeous man on earth after a night of epic wins and even better sex?

It’s special. So I make the choice to set aside the complicated tangle of productivity and self-worth that lives inside my head, and I just . . . lie here.

Turning my head on the pillow, I open my eyes to see Nate looking at me.

The happiness in his brown eyes is somehow both soft and sharp. His stubble is back to being deliciously overgrown; it’s copper in the sunlight that slants through the window above the bed. Lips full, still a little swollen from last night.