Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

As for me, I try very hard not to stare at the breadth of his back. The guy is huge. And hugely confident. He prowls the floor like he owns it (I mean, he kind of does), massive shoulders rolling as he waves to one guest, then smiles at another.

He is all smiles for the world. But for me? Totally different story.

He holds the door open. I step outside, welcoming the slight chill in the air. I’m feeling overheated. Also a little trepidatious. It’s dark out here.

I walked to the restaurant earlier. My cottage is close by, and I knew I’d be drinking, so I didn’t want to take the golf cart provided with my accommodations. No big deal when it was light outside.

But now that it’s dark, I’m not so sure. I’m not necessarily worried about a serial killer leaping out of the trees and grabbing me. But I imagine these woods are home to all kinds of animals. Bears. Mountain lions. Snakes.

Samuel’s shoes catch on the flinty ground beside me.

Now that we’re away from the smells of the restaurant, I can smell him.

My heart skips a beat.

“You didn’t wear it,” I say, looking up at him. “Your cologne.”

The lights from the barn catch on his thick, stylishly parted dark hair. The expression in his eyes—I can’t read it.

“You walk here?” he grunts, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah. You?”

He tips his chin toward the darkness. “C’mon. I’ll make sure Eddie and David leave you alone.” He starts walking.

“Eddie and David?” I ask, hesitating. The snakes, the fact that Samuel might actually be looking out for me—I don’t know which one scares me more.

“The black bears that live up the hill here.”

I hustle to catch up to him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not,” he says, slowing his steps a little. “For the most part, they leave us alone. Except for that one time.”

“What happened? Did someone get hurt?” My heart skips again, but for a different reason. Small lights illuminate the path we’re walking, but otherwise the darkness is complete. Makes me hyper aware of the steady sound of Samuel’s footsteps. The pulsing of crickets around us.

Wait, what did I just hear? Was that a rustle in those bushes over there?

“David ate a baby.”

Without thinking I grab his arm. “A baby? Like, a human baby?”

“Yup. Grabbed him right out of his stroller.”

“Oh my God! How did I not hear about this? Is the baby okay?”

The arm I’m holding starts to shake, and I realize Samuel is laughing.

Jerk.

“God, you’re easy to mess with,” he says. “David likes blackberries more than babies. Obviously.”

I shove him away. “Not cool, Beauregard.”

“About as cool as that bullshit tasting you just put me through, Emma. But really, we tell all our guests to keep an eye out for wildlife, and to avoid walking around the resort alone if they can. Especially at night.”

Oh, God, Samuel really is looking out for me.

He really is being a gentleman. Which absolutely does not square with the guy I met yesterday.

I thought I had this guy pinned as a self-absorbed egomaniac. But now? Now I’m not so sure.

I don’t know what to say when we get to my cottage. I fully expect Samuel to leave me at the gate, but instead he opens it, allowing me to pass through first, and walks me all the way to the front door.

I root around my bag for the key and notice my hands are clammy. Like I’m nervous or something.

Like Samuel and I are on a date, and this is the will-he-or-won’t-he-kiss-me moment.

I find the key and slide it into the lock. The heat of his gaze makes me feel like a teenager again—hot and sweaty and painfully self-conscious.

“So. Eight AM tomorrow at the barn.” I keep my eyes on the lock.

I hear his feet shuffle on the gravel pathway. “You move fast.”

“Me asking around to find out when your day starts is moving fast?” I glance at him over my shoulder. I’m a few steps up on the porch, but he’s so tall that we see eye to eye. “Just trying to be a team player.”

There’s that look again. The one I can’t read.

“I don’t believe that,” he says. “Not for one fucking second.”

And then he turns and stalks into the night.

I usually reserve my sky-high stilettos for special occasions.

But I’m feeling all kinds of mixed up after my very long, very weird first couple of days at Blue Mountain Farm Resort. I need to gather myself before I start my chat with Blue.

And nothing makes me feel more gathered than slipping on a killer pair of heels and playing with sexual power dynamics.

Plus, I want to celebrate tonight’s victory.

I take off my blazer and unzip my skirt. Next comes bra and undies. Then I step out of my stupid kitten heels, and step into the stilettos.