Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

Milly leaps up from her seat and wraps her arms around my neck. “We’re welcoming Stevie into our family the Beauregard way.”

“By crashing my first weekend in her hometown?”

“Yes!” Milly holds me at arm’s length, hands on my shoulders. “You’re welcome.”

Beau pulls back his arm and takes my hand in his, our palms clapping. “But really. To show you we’re one hundred percent committed to y’all’s relationship—”

“And to show you just how much we adore you both,” June says.

“We’re going to do a whole weekend in Nashville together.”

“Just the nine of us. Isn’t it wonderful?” Rhett deadpans.

Mom claps her hands together. “The best. I cannot wait. I do love a Honky-Tonk.”

“Of course you do.” I tug a hand over the top of my head. “Jesus Christ.”

I was really looking forward to spending the majority of this weekend with Stevie. Alone. In bed.

But in true Beauregard form, my family is here to ruin the fun.

I want to be pissed off. I can’t imagine this is how Stevie wanted to spend her days off.

My face hurts as I pull out a chair for her. Only when I see her smile do I realize I’m smiling too.

Hard.

Hardest I’ve smiled in a long ass time.

I put my hand on the back of the chair beside Stevie’s. “This seat taken?”

“Actually”—Milly slips between us, settling into the chair like she owns it—“it is. Hi, Stevie. Thanks again for inviting us.”

“You and I both know she didn’t invite any of y’all,” I say, falling into the seat beside Milly.

Stevie puts her hand on top of Milly’s. “You guys are always invited. Always. Come visit anytime.”

“See?” Milly raises a brow at me. “That’s how you treat family.”

Samuel elbows me. “Really, I hope it’s okay we’re here. I wanted to tell you, but the powers that be decided a surprise would be more ‘special.’”

I shake my head, but this smile just won’t quit.

Thing is, the surprise does feel special.

This feels special, having everyone I love most in this world gathered around the same table.

“Thank you,” I say gruffly. “I’m glad y’all are here.”

Samuel claps my shoulder. “We’re glad you’ve found what you were looking for. Congrats.”

Stevie’s eyes meet mine over Milly’s lap. They’re wet, dark. Lovely.

“You’re a rock star,” I mouth.

Her shoulders hunch forward, like she’s suppressing a giggle. “What?” she mouths back.

“You’re a tambourine goddess.”

Now she really is giggling. “What?” she mouths again.

“I am so glad you took a gamble on us.”

“What?” she finally says out loud.

“Is he being a pervert?” Milly asks. “If he’s being a pervert, Stevie, just say the word, and I’ll kick his ass.”

“Nope. Just reminding Stevie I’ve got all my cards on the table. It turns out, I got lucky—or maybe I had an ace or two up my sleeve she didn’t know about.”

“Any eights, though?” Stevie asks, grinning.

“If there are, I know what to do. I learned from the best, after all. As a matter of fact, I look forward to learning much, much more from you.”

“He’s definitely being a pervert,” Beau says, shielding his face with a menu. “And that’s definitely a euphemism.”

I hold up my hands. “Never said I was a saint.”

“Thank God for that,” Stevie replies. “Because I really like sinning with you.”

Half my siblings erupt in middle schools sounds. An extended ew, a mention of cooties. The other half whistles and claps.

And me? I keep smiling.

If this is what sin feels like—well, I ain’t mad at it.

THE END

Epilogue

Stevie

Four Months Later

It’s a warm summer evening—perfect weather for a wedding.

Emma and Samuel beam at each other as they exchange vows in Blue Mountain’s boathouse. Hank stands proudly beside him as one of Samuel’s three best men, the others being Beau and Rhett, of course, with Milly as his only best woman.

Tears spring in my eyes as I take in the sight of the Beauregards all together. I grab June’s hand—she’s sitting beside me in the front row—and give it a squeeze. It’s a silent thank you for creating this wonderful family and for welcoming me into it with open arms.

The preacher pronounces Samuel and Emma man and wife, and the three-hundred-plus guests erupt in hoots and hollers when the newlyweds go in for a long, rowdy kiss.

I get a kiss of my own the second I walk into Stag Pavilion for cocktail hour. Hank greets me by wrapping an arm around my waist and covering my mouth with his.

“Hey, honey,” he murmurs.

Pulling back, I use the flats of my fingers to wipe his damp cheeks. “Hey, baby. You did great up there. I am digging this suit, by the way.” I give his lapel a quick tug.

Hank rolls his eyes, even as his lips twitch. “Gonna have to disagree with you there. I think I look like a douche.”

In true Samuel style, he dressed all his groomsmen in blue seersucker. I’m talking head-to-toe Carolina blue-and-white stripe, from the custom Gucci blazer and trousers to the matching horsebit loafers.