Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

“Scared.”

The word makes my gut contract. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you put all that therapy to use and try to work through that fear?”

“To do what? End up with this guy?”

“Not necessarily, no. You work through it so you can enjoy whatever it is you’ve got with this football god of yours. I know you don’t want to end up with anyone—”

“I don’t. Not in the slightest. That kind of setup is a prison.”

“Hey,” Kate shoots back. “I have that setup.”

I lift my head and close my eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to imply—what you and Jane have, it’s different, you know? I mean that in a good way. But after what I went through, it’s not what I want for myself.”

“That’s fair. But that begs the question, what do you want?”

I open my eyes and glance up at the sky. The sun has started to sink; it’s late afternoon, which means I need to head back to Hank’s soon to get ready for tonight’s party.

I put my hand over my belly to calm the sudden flutter there. Excitement? Nerves? The thought of being all lovey-dovey with Hank tonight seems both wonderful and terrifying.

A part of me wonders if I should leave. But another part . . .

“I want to stay,” I say quietly. “I like how I feel when I’m with him.”

“See? He’s already worlds better than Dan.”

“Kate, I was with Dan for a decade. I’ve been with Hank for all of, what, one and a half weekends? Of course I’m going to like how Hank makes me feel. Wanting to be with him is easy, because I don’t have to pick up after him or ask him to take out the trash six hundred times. This isn’t real life.”

“Exactly. So, really, there’s nothing to be afraid of, is there? Y’all are living in fantasy land. Maybe that’s why you’re getting all these feels. Who wouldn’t be bowled over by the weekend you’re having? Hot dude. Hotter sex. Being taken care of by the five-star staff of a five-star resort. Lady, that’s heaven, and when you leave, the crash will be hard enough. Don’t make it any harder by letting fear hold you back. You’re not gonna fall in love with this guy, okay? If anything, it’s a temporary infatuation of the teenage variety that’ll fade after a week or two.”

“Yeah,” I say, even though I’m not sure I buy it. “Yeah, you’re right. What we’re doing, it’s just a sexy little weekend where I play a part, and he plays my body the way he plays his guitar. He fucking knows how.”

“Oh, shit, he plays the guitar?”

I close my eyes again. “Yup.”

“He does sound lethal, I’ll give you that.”

My pulse pounds. “It’s just a sexy little weekend.”

“Right.”

“I don’t want to take care of another man. Which is why weekends like this are perfect—because the man takes care of me, and we all go home happy.”

“Like I said, heaven. Now stop psyching yourself out and go, I don’t know, engage in some ass play in your billionaire’s wine cellar. Fuck in his sauna. Suck his enormous dick in his heated pool. He has a heated pool, right?”

I smile. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know. We’ve been kinda confined to his house.”

“Welp, it’s a long weekend, which means you have forty-eight hours to fuck in forty-eight different ways. If you need reconstructive vaginal surgery, Jane knows a guy.”

“Jane is that guy,” I say, and I mean it. Kate’s wife is a partner at one of the best plastic surgery practices in Nashville.

“She’s sexy, right?”

“The sexiest.”

“Cool.” She sighs. “You good?”

I’m not sure if I’m good. But I do feel the tiniest bit better. Maybe I just needed the reminder that Blue Mountain Farm isn’t the real world, and if it’s not real, then I can’t be in any real danger.

“I’ll be okay. Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Anytime. And Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know not all guys are like Dan. And not all marriages end up like your parents’. Jane and I are an incredibly imperfect testament to that idea.”

My brows snap together at the mention of Mom and Dad. As much as I want to believe Kate’s comment is out of left field, I know better, and so does she.

“There’s these studies,” I say, walking. “Studies done on older married couples. I’m grossly paraphrasing here, but when the wife dies, the husband’s happiness goes down the drain. But when the husband dies, the wife’s happiness goes through the roof.”

“Ha. I believe it.”

“Makes sense, right? All her life, she’s had to take care of him, and the kids, and the dog and the house and everything else. But when he goes, she’s free. I bet my mom would be happier without my dad, as fucked up as it is to say that. It’s a total relief not to wait on someone day and night.”