Southern Seducer (North Carolina Highlands 1)

Behind the last row of chairs, a table is set with sweating glass dispensers of water, blackberries and slices of cucumber floating inside, sweet tea, and a big batch of homemade whiskey sours. Made, of course, with none other than Kingsley whiskey. Not their top-shelf stuff, granted. But even their cheapest distillation is pretty damn delicious. Much as I hate to admit it.

A string quartet practices what sounds like an instrumental version of a Coldplay song—really?—on a patch of grass beside the chuppah.

Farther up the lawn, the pavilion is lit up. Its entrance is covered in an arch of more blooms, thousands more, and on the patio beside it I can hear the band performing a sound check.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see that the surface of the lake is dotted with floating magnolia blooms.

“You like?” Milly asks, tucking a stray curl out of her face with the back of her wrist.

I turn to her. She looks tired but satisfied.

Licking my thumb, I erase a smudge of something—dirt, marker—from her cheek. “Milly, it’s fucking magical.”

“Thanks. Tent guy nearly gave me a heart attack, and somehow the catering kitchen ran out of pimiento cheese.”

“Lord save us.”

“I know, right? What’s a Southern wedding without pimiento cheese?”

“A shitty one, that’s what.”

“Exactly. So we had to loot local grocery stores. Thankfully, we came up with about a gallon of some good stuff. Was still a close call.”

“You doing those passed endive things again?”

Milly shakes her head, lips twitching. “You know I don’t like to repeat myself. This time we’re doing these mini fried chicken and pimiento cheese biscuits.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” Milly cuts me a glance. Lowers her voice. “How are you?”

I run a hand down my scruff, then sigh. “Not good.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” I slide my hands into my pockets. I feel twitchy. On edge. I’m hungry and I’m hungover and I hate myself. “I miss her. So damn much, Milly. But I can’t. I can’t reach out to her. Even though it’s killing me not to.”

“I don’t want to sound mean, but—yeah. That’s just dumb.”

“You’re dumb.”

“Apologize. That’s not nice.”

“Sorry.” I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just—”

“Not yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Ever consider Annabel helps you feel at home in your skin? And that she might keep you happy here”—Milly pokes a finger into my chest—“and healthy here?”—that finger moves to my forehead.

I hadn’t considered that.

Is that why I feel so…disconnected? I did Bel wrong, and I despise myself for putting her through that. But is Milly right? Do I feel so lost and torn up because Bel was the one who kept me balanced? Kept me in check?

And does it even matter now that she’s gone?

We both look up at the sound behind us: the throaty, smoker’s-cough throb of a diesel engine.

My chest tightens when I see a familiar white pickup truck making its way around the lake.

I take a deep breath. I don’t want that tightness to spark to anger like it did last time Nate Kingsley was here. It’s a waste.

I’ve already wasted so much time and energy on stupid shit. On excuses that don’t hold water. I’m done making that mistake.

Squinting, I hold my hand to my forehead. “Any idea what he’s here for?”

She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Trust me?”

“Milly.” I give her a look. “What did you do?”

“Just hear him out. That’s all I ask. Okay?”

“Explain.”

“Well, for starters, the groom requested another case of Appalachian Red last minute. Apparently, they finished off the one they already ordered at the rehearsal dinner.”

I shake my head. “I thought everyone was kinda shit-faced last night.”

“Kinda? Try very. Least they didn’t make too much of a mess.”

“You shoulda told me,” I say. “About the extra case. I could’ve sent one of our guys down to the distillery to get it. You know I don’t like Nate coming around here.”

Milly rolls her eyes. “It will be worth your while.”

Scaling the small hill leading up from the lake, Nate tips his head at Milly, like he’s wearing an imaginary cowboy hat or something. The sudden politeness is jarring. What is happening? “Evening, Milly.”

“Hi, Nate. Thank you,” she says, surveying the bottles in the crate he holds out. “I can’t thank you enough for coming through on this, and so last minute. I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Our pleasure. Place looks amazing, by the way.”

“Doesn’t it?” Milly beams. “We’re getting there.”

I stare. Since when do Milly and Nate get along like old friends?

But before I can ask the million questions I have, Nate’s eyes dart in my direction. “A word?”

“With me?”

“Yes.”

I look at Milly. She gestures for me to follow Nate, imploring me with her eyes to behave.

“It’s all right, Milly,” Nate says.

She smiles at him. “Thank you. Again.”

He watches her disappear into the pavilion, along with the two assistants she called over to help with the whiskey.