Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

He wanted me to see him kissing Emma. Because I lied to him. Often, though not without remorse.

But I had my reasons. Good reasons. If he’d only let me explain—

No. This fuckwad is the one who owes me an explanation.

“What are you doing here?” I growl.

Hank’s nostrils flare. “I followed you.”

“What the f—”

“What else was I supposed to do? You’ve been lying constantly to me. You’ve been checked out, mentally anyway, for weeks. When I ask how you’re feeling, you shove me aside like I don’t matter. I was worried.”

“Jealous,” I snap. “You were jealous. Don’t you dare confuse the two.”

I stare him down, rage ballooning inside my body down to my fingertips. His face is bright red.

I ball my hands into fists.

A blonde with Emma’s chin and cheekbones appears at my elbow. “What in the world is going on?”

“I’ll explain everything in a minute, Linds.” Emma turns to Hank, holding the back of her hand to her mouth. “Why’d you do that? Kiss me?”

“Because he wants to hurt me,” I say. “Biggest dick move in the book.”

The blonde gasps. Emma grimaces.

Hank just stares me down, his shoulders starting to tremble as he takes deep breath after deep breath.

I’m trembling too. I’m not used to feeling this way. Like I’m raw inside and out, bare nerve endings breaking through my skin to deliver shock after shock of agony. The depth of the pain is staggering.

It knocks the wind out of me.

This is what Emma was talking about when she said living this way, making myself vulnerable, is hard.

“Even bigger dick move?” I ask, just barely managing not to shout. “Touching a woman without her permission. Apologize, Hank. Right fucking now.”

He glances at Emma. “I’m sorry,” he says gruffly. “But not gonna lie, right now I hate y’all.”

“Feeling is mutual,” I reply.

“Stop,” Emma says. “Hank, what you did was so not okay, but I won’t be the reason you guys are fighting. Let’s talk this through. Hank, I know you have feelings for me—”

“He said that?” I turn to my brother. “You motherfucker. You accuse me of lying, yet you’re guilty of the same sin? You literally told me you didn’t have feelings for Emma. What kind of bullshit is that?”

“Your kind, actually,” he replies smoothly. “I learned how to bullshit from you.”

Fuck.

What the hell do I say to him? He’s not wrong. But this is not the time nor the place for this conversation, and at the end of the day, it was a dick move going after Emma, knowing there was something between us.

“You know what?” I manage. “You’re right. I wasn’t upfront about my feelings for Emma. But there’s a reason for that.”

“Many reasons,” Emma adds, silently imploring me to…what? Stay silent? Tell him everything?

“So do it,” Hank says. “Be honest. Right now. Tell me everything, both of you.” The restaurant has gone completely silent. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for the next line of dialogue in this ridiculous tragicomedy we’ve got going on.

I clench my jaw. Lock eyes with Emma for a beat. This is not the way I wanted to tell her I love her. I wanted something better for us. Something special, a memory that’d make us smile while we shuffle our walkers through the nursing home together fifty years from now.

Welp. Leave it to me to fuck that up. But I’ll do what I can to salvage the moment. I move my gaze over her body, memorizing everything about her. The set of her shoulders. The color of her jeans. Her shoes—

My hand comes down, hard, on my chest. Good news: my heart is not a hole. Bad news: I think it just stopped working.

The stilettos are even more killer in person. They’re sky-high, giving Emma a good boost in height. The decoration on her heels glitters in the restaurant’s low lighting, making me blink.

Emma is Lady V.

I glance up at Emma and stare. “V?”

Emma’s eyes glisten. She nods.

“Wow,” I say like an idiot. I laugh, a hushed sound. “Wow. Now that I’m thinking about it…the ’76 Riesling you talked about, and our safe word…Jesus Christ, Em, how did I not see it sooner?”

She sniffs, offering me a watery smile. “I know, right? We’re blind. Or maybe blinded by our—um, witty banter.”

“My God,” Hank scoffs.

I ignore him and step toward Emma.

“Baby,” I say, and without thinking, I reach out and cup her face in my hand. “Please don’t cry. I’ll fix this, I promise. And you know I don’t make promises lightly. Not anymore.”

“You,” she breathes, tears leaking out of her eyes left and right. They’re good tears. Bad tears. I feel each one like a pinprick in my heart. “It was you all along.”

“The way you dominate,” I say. “The bossiness—”

“Stop,” Hank says.

“Please don’t,” the blonde says. “I want more.”

I look at Emma and nod with a slight tip of my head, giving her the lead. Her chest rises on a deep inhale.