Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

Maybe being Blue with Lady V was part of what gave Samuel the courage he needed to open up to me, Emma Crawford.

Which means I was the one who helped get the ball rolling.

The whole thing is lovely and tragic. Relief sweeps through me—Blue isn’t Hank, thank God—followed swiftly by fear. Guilt. Confusion. Because if Samuel is Blue, why did he float the idea of moving in together when he was still intending to meet with his cybersex partner?

Is he a player after all? What am I missing?

But nothing changes the fact that Hank just confessed he’s got it bad for me.

I look at Hank, eyes filming over. What the hell do I do? “My turn to be honest. I’m here to see a guy I met on the internet.”

“MyBoyBlue,” Hank replies hoarsely.

“Yes. We’ve been chatting for a while now, and I asked him if he wanted to try meeting offline.”

His eyes light up. “So you’re here to meet Blue. Not Samuel.”

“Yes. But I am”—I draw a shaking breath—“I’m falling for Samuel, Hank. And now that I know they’re probably the same person…”

His expression crumples, and I feel his disappointment like a bullet to the chest.

So many emotions in such a short span of time. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from this.

But I’m not the one getting my heart torn out.

“Right,” Hank manages. “I get it.”

“I’m so sorry. I would’ve told you, it’s just—I mean, you understand why we didn’t say anything, right?” I lean forward to look in Hank’s eyes. “There was too much at risk for me. And for him.”

“So he’s in love with you too.”

I stand, and I shake. “Only Samuel can answer that, Hank.”

“And only you can answer this. Why him? He was such a dick to you, Emma. I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t.” I reach up and put a hand on his chest. “Thank God for that. Thank you for that. Hank, you’re the reason I stayed. If it wasn’t for you, I’m not sure I would’ve survived those first couple of weeks.”

That jaw muscle tics again. “But you still chose him.” Hank scoffs. “Nice guys really do finish last.”

“No, they don’t. Samuel is a nice guy. I just had to dig a little to find him.” I meet Hank’s gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront about my feelings for Samuel, and I’m sorry things are such a mess because of it. I just don’t feel the same about you, Hank. You’re a wonderful coworker and even better friend. But that’s as far as my feelings go.”

He dips his head in a slow nod. “Okay then.”

“It’s not okay. I know that. But can we at least agree to try to sort this out together? The three of us?”

Hank hesitates. Takes a breath through his nose. Hesitates some more. His eyes flick above my head. I turn around to see what he’s looking at, but I only glimpse the bar. Lindsey raises her eyebrows, sticking her thumb up. If only she knew how much of a thumbs down this situation is.

“Okay,” Hank says at last.

“Good. Now can I give you a hug?”

He scoffs again, but this one is less angry than the others. “You can always hug me, Emma. No need to ask.”

I don’t need to go up on my tiptoes to hug him the way I do with Samuel. But there’s something weirdly familiar about the way Hank wraps his arms around my waist and holds me against him. His body is warm and solid, and I silently ask the universe to send someone his way. Someone who deserves his unique brand of awesomeness.

I start to pull back at the same moment I hear footsteps behind me. Hank’s eyes flick above my head again. The look in his gaze darkens.

“Hank? Everything okay?”

He looks back at me. A beat of charged silence passes between us.

And then, without warning, Hank ducks his head and kisses me.

“What?” I say against his mouth, freezing. My heart bangs loudly against my breastbone, and my blood rushes cold. The sensation is awful, like what I imagine walking barefoot through the snow would feel like—a chill so deep it burns.

There is no tenderness in this kiss. Just hurt.

I jerk backward, our lips making this terrible smacking noise as I break contact. From the corner of my eye, I see my sister launching off her barstool.

That’s when the voice behind me spits out, “What the fuck?”

Chapter Thirty-One

Samuel

That twist in my center—it’s the knife. The one I thought for sure Emma would plunge into my back the second she got the chance.

Turns out it was my brother who ended up stabbing me.

Emma’s eyes go wide. What is she doing here? She pulls Hank’s arms off her waist and opens her mouth, but he beats her to the punch.

“Now you know how it feels, brother.”

I don’t need to ask Hank what he means by that. I can tell by the hard, mean gleam in his eyes that he did it on purpose.