Southern Playboy (North Carolina Highlands 4)

“Hell no,” she says. “Because I’m the one giving it to you.”

And then she takes off at a sprint and launches herself into the water, diving in headfirst.

Amelia in a nutshell.

She emerges from the water with a yell. “Wooooo, that feels nice!”

“Cold?”

“Not at all.”

I debate whether or not to test it out.

Screw it. I dive in after Amelia. The water’s pretty shallow, so I’m careful not to go too deep. My knuckles still scrape the rocks on the bottom, my lungs squeezing at the onslaught of cold, cold water.

Coming up for air, I flick my head, moving the hair out of my eyes. Amelia’s right there waiting for me, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“It’s fucking freezing!” I splash water at her. “Thanks to you, I may have shrinkage that lasts for days. Days, Amelia. Days.”

She splashes me right back, then loops her arms around my neck and climbs me like a tree. “Let’s see how bad it is—”

“Hey—don’t you—” But she’s already reaching down, and then I am too, grabbing her wrist. She writhes against me, face split open with a smile as she struggles to reach for my junk. I hold her, but she still struggles, calling me every name in the book. You bastard, let me feel. Dickless jerk—and yes, I mean that literally, because I can only assume your dick has indeed disappeared if you’re trying so hard to keep it from me. I didn’t even need to bite it off!

I throw my head back and laugh. A big old belly laugh that fills the night around us.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Amelia

I wake up sore and horny.

There’s a strange new feeling inside my torso. A lightness that makes me smile, even though for several beats I have no idea what I’m smiling about.

Then it hits me: I had sex with Rhett last night.

Porny, feely, rock star sex that was satisfying on a soul-deep level.

Not only that. We had the best date ever. The clearing in the woods? And that food? The conversation and the wine and the way we clung together in the water, keeping each other warm until the stars came out and our hands and feet were pruny?

Chase the wild.

Flopping onto my back, I cover my eyes with my hand.

“Oh no,” I say aloud.

Oh yes, my heart says, making me wince and smile harder, all at once.

I grab my phone off its charger beside the bed. My pulse races as I tell myself not to be disappointed if Rhett hasn’t texted. I’ve gotten my hopes up before, and I keep saying I’m not going to make the same mistakes again.

Does sleeping with your ex nine years after you broke up count as the same mistake?

I don’t want to dive too deep into the answer to that question, so I hit the button on the side of my phone instead, the screen blinking to life.

There’s not one but two texts from Rhett Beauregard.

Night A. I had a great time and hope you did too.

And then today at 7:01 A.M.: Morning. Sorry for the early text, but Liam was up before six. We may have left you a little something on your doormat.

Heart lurching, I hop out of bed and run to my door. Yanking it open, I see a tidy paper bag marked with Blue Mountain Farm’s fancy insignia waiting for me on the mat. I open it to find a to-go cup of tea—English breakfast from the smell of it—and a bacon, egg, and pepper jelly sandwich wrapped in foil.

I glance down the hallway. First to my right, then to my left. I feel a surge of regret at having missed them.

And then, looking at the egg sandwich, I feel a surge of something else. Something big and happy, and it threatens to crack open my rib cage.

I drop the sandwich into the bag and start to cry.

“Are you crying?” Rhett asks when I call him a second later. “Don’t tell me they fucked up the order. Did you get coffee instead of tea? I’ll wring Samuel’s—”

“The tea is perfect.” Sniff. “Same goes for the sandwich.”

Also, I’m in love you.

“Aw, honey, why the tears then?”

“It’s just sweet of y’all. Thank you for thinking of me.”

I hear the smile in his voice when he replies. “Told you I was getting sweeter. You need me to come over? Liam and I are still in the car. Can you say hi to Amelia, Li?”

Li. Rhett’s got a nickname for his son now. I love that too.

“We-wa hi!” The sound of his little voice has a hand gripping my heart and squeezing.

“Hey, buddy! I miss you.”

“We miss you too,” Rhett says. Lowers his voice. “How are you feeling?”

Letting out a breath, I take a sip of tea and reply, “In the interest of honest communication—great. Really, really great. I had a blast last night. You?”