Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

He’s still ripped as all get-out. His biceps are on the verge of splitting the sleeves of his T-shirt, Hulk style.

From what I gather, all the Beauregard brothers are incredibly well-built. Must be their genes. It makes sense, considering their father was also a football great.

“Couldn’t help myself. Your mastery is a thing of beauty, Emma. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The wines you picked? And that thing you did with the champagne? I knew you were something special from the way Beau talked about you. But damn, girl, you know your shit, and you’re not afraid to use that knowledge as a weapon.”

Warmth blooms inside my chest. “Wow. Thanks for that. I’m worried I took it a little too far, but overall, I’d like to think I did well.”

“You dominated, no question. And let’s be real, it was fun to watch you put Samuel in his place. I’m sorry he’s been such a moody SOB. I promise he’s not usually like this.”

I scoff. “I’m glad you said that. I wish he could be a little more like you. You know, nice.”

“You think I’m nice?”

“I do, yeah. I hope you don’t mind me asking,” I say, “but what is Samuel’s deal? He seems to get along with everyone else. What sore spot am I hitting?”

“Fuck if I know.” Hank puts his hands in his pockets. “On the surface, Samuel can be a big bullshitter. But when it comes down to it, I think he has trouble trusting new people. Letting them in. Be patient.”

I nod. “I can do that.”

“Anything I can help with in the meantime? I’d be happy to show you around the resort. I’m sure I could finagle you an appointment at the spa if you’re into that stuff. We’ve got plenty of outdoor activities too. Just say the word and I’ll line it up, free of charge. I’ll tell Beau—I mean, my boss—that you’re doing ‘resort research.’”

I laugh. “Is that a real thing?”

“Nope. But I can make it one if you want.”

“Thanks.” I grin. “I appreciate the offer, really. I see why Beau put you in charge of guest relations. You’re good at making people feel at home here. Me included. Makes Blue Mountain Farm stand out.”

He grins too, handsome and glowing and clearly proud. “I appreciate the kind words. A lot of what I do is kinda invisible work, you know? It’s not as sexy as, say, one of Milly’s weddings, or Samuel’s Tony Stark wine cellar.”

“Did he actually have the cellar built in Iron Man style?”

“Yup.”

“Of course he did.” I roll my eyes, and Hank laughs. “But yeah, I see what you mean. You’re the glue that holds it all together. The food, the weddings, the activities, the accommodations—I’ve worked in hospitality long enough to know it all only runs smoothly if there’s a shit ton of work that happens behind the scenes.”

Hank’s gaze meets mine. “I like you, Emma.”

“I like you, too, Hank.”

“So, hey.” He rocks back on his heels, and at that moment, I see a teddy bear, not a mountain man. Really, why can’t Samuel have Hank’s personality? It would certainly make my life a lot easier. “I know you’re super busy, but if you ever have time for another tasting, I’d love to do one with you.”

“Anytime. But you have to promise not to freak out the way Samuel did if I outmaneuver you.”

His smile broadens. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Samuel walks into the restaurant at eight o’clock on the dot. He smiles at the restaurant’s manager, Raquel, and nods at one of the dishwashers heading into the kitchen.

His greeting isn’t exactly warm or personal. But it gets the job done. The hum of activity surrounding us is a testament to the respect Samuel’s employees have for him. So are The Barn Door’s stats: turnover is very, very low—much of the kitchen and waitstaff has been with the Beauregards since the resort opened a few years ago—and employees consistently give him the highest rating on Blue Mountain’s biannual performance reviews.

He’s not wearing a suit this morning. Instead, he’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved white thermal. His white and neon orange sneakers would look ridiculous on anyone else. But on Samuel, they’re sexy. Probably because he wears them with I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-you-think swagger.

Guy’s got balls of steel, I’ll give him that.

His eyes lock on mine and despite my best efforts to remain calm, cool, and steady—this is not your first rodeo, Em—my stomach somersaults.

The image of his bare ass immediately flashes across my thoughts. Did I really trespass on Samuel’s property last night to peep him in his pool?

Thinking about your co-head’s naked, perfectly pert ass is not the best way to start your third day on the job.

As if he can read my dirty mind, Samuel’s smile disappears.

“Emma,” he says.

I clear my throat. “Morning, Beauregard.”