Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

Tears stream down my face.

“Hey.” Lindsey puts a hand on my leg. “You want me to drive?”

“I got it. Thanks, though.” I sniff, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my coat. I didn’t bother taking it off. Now I’m burning up, my insides churning with sorrow and shame and embarrassment.

Of course my perfect older sister was there to witness the spectacle. I can only imagine what my parents will say when she tells them I quit my dream job because I was involved in a love triangle with two of the owners who—get this—are also brothers.

“I bet that kind of shit doesn’t happen at the offices of Hanock, Hanock, and Brigley,” I say with a scoff.

Lindsey doesn’t smile, though. Giving my leg a squeeze, she looks out the window. “It’s not as exciting there, no. But believe me, there’s still drama.”

I wait for her to finish that thought, but she doesn’t. We’re quiet for the rest of the drive. My embarrassment builds to the point that I’m crawling out of my skin by the time we pull up to my cottage.

I turn off the car and let my hands fall onto my lap. Closing my eyes, I take a breath. “Okay. I gotta pack up my shit and get out of here. I’m sorry you came all this way and the day ended so horribly. How about I call up to the main house for something to go for your ride home?”

Lindsey cocks her head. “One, are you sure that’s the right move? Running? And two, if you are sure, then I’ll get you food, and I’ll help you pack.”

The lump in my throat softens. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m your sister. Of course I do. Now talk to me about how we went from ‘oh shit two dudes are in love with me’ to ‘I’m leaving my dream job and my dream guy.’”

Ugh, fresh wave of tears. “One, my professional reputation was just shot to hell, and now there’s no way I’ll be able to build a career here at the resort.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” I stare at her. “You of all people should understand the importance of reputation. What do you think everyone will say when they hear about what just went down? How do you think they’ll see me? Lemme tell you, the first thing that pops into their heads isn’t going to be ‘wow, what a knowledgeable and hardworking sommelier she is.’”

“Okay, that’s fair. But if you give it time—”

“I don’t have time!” I burst. “You saw the way Samuel and Hank just spoke to each other. They would’ve never said those things before I got to the farm.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know they hate each other. And it’s my fault.”

“That’s not entirely true. As a matter of fact, that’s, like, ninety-nine percent not true. They hate each other because no one was honest about how they felt. To be fair, you weren’t, either, but you had a very good reason not to be. Plus, what’s going on between you and Samuel is none of Hank’s business.”

“That’s not entirely true. We all work together. And Hank helped me out when Samuel wasn’t.”

She blinks. “All right, I’ll give you that point.”

“Look, whoever’s at fault here, it’s obvious the three of us shouldn’t be working together. I’m going to make the choice easy and resign.”

Lindsey raises her brows. “I think that’s a mistake, Em.”

I lift a shoulder. “Lindsey, this is the kind of thing that destroys families. The longer I stick around, the more that hate between Hank and Samuel is going to grow. I’m just a thorn in that family’s side. The family that employs me. You really think this story has a happy ending?”

Lindsey just stares.

I just shake my head and scoff, looking out the windshield. “I knew this would blow up in my face. I knew it. Honestly, how stupid could I be? Ten years in the business and I haven’t so much as laid a finger on anyone I’ve worked with. I should’ve stuck to my guns, but instead, I let myself fall for the one guy who had the power to ruin everything. And he did. I did. I was so close to having it all…”

“Em.” Her voice softens. “Your life isn’t ruined. You can still have it all. If you want it, which…I don’t know, I’m not sure that you should dream of having it all.”

“That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve had it all for as long as I can remember.”

Her expression contracts. “That’s not true.”

“Really? Isn’t that what your Instagram says? ‘Hello, look at my perfect life, I have the perfect everything’?”

She cuts me a look. “You’re lashing out at me. You’re better than that, so stop it.”

I swallow. Putting my hands on the steering wheel, I lean my chest against it, suddenly deflated. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m being a total shithead.”