Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

“What about them?”

“How can I help you there? I know you’ve gotta be anxious to see them again after what went down. You want me to break the ice? Talk to them first, maybe under the guise of introducing myself or something?”

Glancing at my empty glass, I briefly contemplate pouring myself another cocktail before deciding it’s a bad idea. I have to be on point tonight. Not only because I’ll be seeing Samuel for the first time in nearly a year, but also because Stevie’s already being a top-notch fake girlfriend. I want to return the favor.

I like her idea. Having a little moral support when I approach Samuel and Emma definitely won’t hurt.

“I’ll approach them first,” I say. “Samuel will appreciate that. I’m the one who fucked up the worst, so I’m the one who needs to extend the olive branch. Just—if you wouldn’t mind being with me when that happens, I’d appreciate it.”

Grinning, Stevie extends her arm and curls her fingers over mine. Hers are cold from holding the cocktail, but I still feel a zip of warmth from the contact. “I’m your ride or die all weekend long. Just say the word, and I’ll come to your rescue.”

“What’s our word?”

She bites her lip. “Blackjack.”

“All right,” I reply.

And you know what? For the first time in a long time, I almost do feel all right.

Chapter Ten

Stevie

Grabbing my hand, Hank leads me up the front steps of Samuel’s mansion.

Hank wasn’t lying when he said his family was loud. I can already hear the voices and music from inside the massive house.

He pauses at the front door, taking a deep breath as he rolls back his shoulders.

I give his hand a quick squeeze. He glances at me, our eyes locking in the light of the gas lamp above our heads, and a shiver runs through me. It’s cold outside, yeah, but his eyes—they’re soft. Sweet.

It’s kinda cute, how nervous he is.

“You got this, Hastings.”

“Only because you’re here, Daphne,” he replies and opens the door.

The rich smell of roasting meat hits me the second I step inside. Voices rise from a distant room, and I duck my head to glance around the nearby wall. I’m so curious about Hank’s family. On the walk over here, Hank told me his family is kind of a big deal in the football world—his dad and all of his brothers played pro football.

What are they like? How did they shape Hank into the man he is today?

And what led to him kissing his brother’s girlfriend?

Fingers curl into the collar of my puffer coat, brushing against my neck.

“Lemme take this for you,” Hank says from behind me.

My pulse skips a beat. I unzip my puffer and let him peel it off me, shivering again when the warm air inside the house meets with my skin.

Hank furrows his brow. “You cold?”

“No.” I shake my head, drawing a quick breath through my nose. “Thank you.”

He puts a hand on the small of my back. The gesture is simple but foreign, and I resist the urge to arch away from his touch.

It’s not real. Which means I’m allowed to enjoy it without worrying about getting in over my head. That’s the beauty of drawing boundaries: you always know where you stand.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod. “Ready.”

“It’s not too late to back out.”

I perk up at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Hate to tell you, but I think it is.”

Rhett emerges from the hallway, his slightly red face lit up with a smile. He holds up his arms in greeting. “Y’all made it! Stevie, it’s great to see you again. I had no idea you two were actually a thing. In Vegas, I’d assumed—”

“You were out of your mind in Vegas,” Hank cuts him off. “How much wine have you had tonight, brother?”

Rhett looks at me and rolls his eyes. “Is he always this fun with you?”

“Hi, Rhett,” I say, laughing, and he pulls me into a hug. “How’ve you been?”

He pulls back and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Meh. The season didn’t end the way I wanted it to. But at least it ended. Here, y’all come on in. Samuel’s got his roast goin’, and Emma’s pouring some ridiculous wine.”

He leads us down a hallway to the kitchen.

The first thing I notice is how enormous it is. No joke, it might be bigger than my entire house back home. I’ve got a little bungalow, just over a thousand square feet, so it’s not hard to beat.

Even so, this kitchen is a showstopper by any standard. Two marble-topped islands dominate the space, along with a fancy-looking range on the far wall. Another wall is lined with stainless steel refrigeration and freezer units. A wine column with a glass door glows from within, highlighting several magnums of what is no doubt some costly stuff.