Southern Seducer (North Carolina Highlands 1)

I take a deep breath, then let it out, gathering the moment inside my chest. I’m damn fucking proud of this right here. The years spent planning and saving, then working. The millions raised and invested. The hundreds hired.

It was all worth it. I’m just glad I get to witness the resort in all its glory.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Samuel asks as he climbs out of the cart.

“It does,” I say. “You’re both killing it. I’m proud of you, brother. Even if I do want to beat your ass.”

Samuel grins, shooting his cuffs. My brother was always equally at home in a custom Brioni suit as he was in scuffed-up work boots and a flannel. “I’ll take both those things as a compliment.”

“So, listen.” I climb out of the cart, and Hank stands beside me. “I mean it this time, Samuel. Do me a favor and don’t sleep with Emma, all right? I know you’re not crazy about hiring a sommelier, but if we want to take our wine and food programs to the next level, we need someone like her. Got it?”

Samuel looks away. “You really think I’d sleep with a potential employee? C’mon. I know better than that. Plus, I have a girlfriend.”

“No, you don’t,” Hank says.

“Shut up,” Samuel replies crisply.

“I’m serious, Samuel. I’ve been after Emma for years. She’s the best of the best. Don’t fuck this up.”

While working at Blue Mountain Farm is a draw for employees, living in a small town pretty much in the middle of nowhere isn’t. The booming foodie scene in nearby Asheville has made hiring chefs, line cooks, servers, and bartenders a little easier, but I’ve had trouble finding a top-tier sommelier.

“I know my way around wine.” A muscle in Samuel’s jaw clenches. “No one’s collection beats mine, despite what Forbes says.”

Each of us Beauregard boys has our own indulgence. For me, it’s cars. Hank loves watches. Rhett has become a mini real estate mogul. Even Milly has her own collections of bonds and bags.

But Samuel? Samuel collects girls and wine. In fact, part of his massive wine collection became the foundation for our wine program here at the resort.

As director of food and wine at Blue Mountain Farm, he wanted to continue to oversee the wine program. But it’s a big job, and I know our guests expect a certain caliber of professional knowledge Samuel just doesn’t possess.

“Fine,” Samuel groans. “By the way, did Milly tell you about Nate Kingsley? He’s coming up to the mountain tomorrow to make a delivery for that big wedding she’s doing in April for John Bevin and Celeste Loo.”

John Bevin is a famous R&B star. His fiancée, Celeste, is an even more famous Thai-American model. Landing their wedding was a huge win for the resort. It’s our first celebrity wedding, and we hope it won’t be the last.

It’s my turn to groan. “I try with Nate, I do, but he just doesn’t like me. At all. I feel like he’s always trying to provoke me, you know? The way he looks at Milly—”

“I know. But the groom is into rare whiskeys, and few are rarer than Appalachian Red, which is why we’re taking delivery of it four weeks before the wedding. When it’s available, you gotta jump on it.”

“God, I wish that stuff wasn’t so good,” Hank says.

“No shit,” I say. “It’s against the laws of the universe for a douchebag like that to make some of the world’s best whiskey.”

“You ever figure out why he hates you so much?”

I lift a shoulder. “Fuck if I know. Feud’s been over for decades now. I wish he’d get the memo.”

Back in the day—I’m talking pre-American Revolution here—our families, the Beauregards and the Kingsleys, had a little Montague-and-Capulet thing going on here in the Great Smokies. The details are obscure and probably embellished to the point of ridiculousness. But each family occupied one side of Blue Mountain. Apparently, a Beauregard son had the bright idea to fool around with the daughter of his father’s enemy, Mr. Kingsley. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, forbidden love was too juicy for these backwoods babies to resist, and the girl got pregnant. When the dude’s daddy refused to marry him to the chick, a war of tit-for-tat broke out that lasted centuries and claimed tens of lives.

Shockingly enough, the feud only petered out for good after my daddy died back in 2006. Not a coincidence, as Daddy could be mean as a snake in his later years. Especially toward Old Man Kingsley.

Nate, though? He’s Old Man Kingsley’s first son, and he’s had it out for me as long as I can remember. We’re the same age, and we went to school together, so I’d remember if I ever crossed the guy. No way he could be mad at me for shit my Daddy said how many years ago.