Southern Hotshot: A North Carolina Highlands Novel

by Peterson, Jessica

  “Doesn’t change the fact you kissed her to hurt me.” I climb inside the car.

  Hank rests his hand on the top of the door and leans against it. “No, it doesn’t. But it also doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me. Over and over.”

  “Go to hell, Hank.”

  I shut the door, lock it, and start the engine.

  My brother is still standing there when I pull out of the lot.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Emma

  I won’t be the reason your relationship with your brother falls apart.

  I’ve seen how much you love your family, and I’m not sure you can make peace with them if I’m around.

  Driving up the mountain to the farm, I run through a zillion possible lines. Whatever I end up choosing, I have to make it clear to Samuel why we can’t be together.

  I have to make him see why I’m leaving Blue Mountain Farm for good.

  I told the guys we all needed time to cool off. But it’s clear I’m bad news for the Beauregard family. And if I’m the reason they’re torn apart, what’s left for any of us? If the family goes down, so does the resort.

  Everyone’s hearts will be broken. I won’t do that to Samuel, and I won’t do it to the people he loves.

  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.”

  “You’re not a shithead. You’re hurt.”

  “I just…I don’t need a perfect life. But I do need some semblance of stability. I’d like a salary, for starters. And benefits. And regular hours. I had all that and more at Blue Mountain.”

  “That’s fair. You can still have all that, Em. Just…don’t be rash.”

  All these fucking tears. “I’m in love with him, Linds.”

  She puts a hand on my back. “Which one?”

  I shouldn’t laugh at that, but I do. So does she.

  “Too soon,” I say.

  “Is it?”

  “How am I gonna get over him?”

  My sister purses her lips. “I’m telling you, sleep on it before you make any big decisions. Here, I’ll go raid the nearest wine store, and we can hang out in your super cool cottage and get shit-faced off Chardonnay and cry our eyeballs out. Then we’ll get a good night’s sleep so you wake up with a clear head and a heart that doesn’t hurt so much. Then you decide if you should leave.”

  I shake my head. “Samuel will come over. He’ll try to convince me to stay, but I can’t. In my gut, I know I have to get out of here.” I take a breath through my nose and straighten. “He messes with my head, clearly. Ever since we met, I’ve made one disaster of a decision after another. I have to go.”

  Lindsey slowly nods. “Okay. If that’s the way you really feel, then let’s get you packed up and back home.”

  “Can we still get shit-faced off Chardonnay?”

  “Of course,” she says with a smile. “My treat. By the way, despite what my Instagram says, my life is not perfect. Far from it.”

  But before I can ask her what she means, she shoves open her door. “If you’re worried about Samuel coming over, we should hurry.”

  * * *

  I turned off the heat in my apartment before I left, so it’s freezing when we arrive an hour later, weighed down by way too much luggage for two people.

  I’ve never thought of my apartment as drab. It’s in a building that
was once a textile mill back in the twenties. It has exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and enormous steel windows that overlook the city. I’ve always loved it.

  I still do. But the evening’s low light paints everything a different shade of gray. Or maybe it’s just the cloud in perpetual residence above my head that’s got me feeling so down and lonely.

  I’m also reminded that I’m living in a rental. Will I ever be able to afford to buy my own place? I’d love to own a home, a spot I could make my own with paint, cool fixtures, maybe even a wine closet.

  Will I ever not have to sweat health insurance? And what about that retirement I want (really, need) to save for?

  Cybersex. Love triangles. Wearing glittery shoes to a date that ended my career.

  I have never felt more like a joke than I do now.

  I look at my sister through the open bedroom door. Bless her heart, she’s busy unpacking my suitcase, carefully hanging up a pencil skirt in my teeny tiny closet. Watching her, I feel a surge of gratitude. Lindsey and I were close growing up. But as adults we’ve grown apart. Truth be told, I haven’t exactly missed her over the years.

  But now I’m really glad she’s here. Even if her fancy clothes and car and diamonds are a stark reminder of the stability and success I definitely do not have and probably never will.

  Headlights outside the window catch my eye. My stomach flips. Then clenches when I realize Samuel has no idea where I live. It’s both a relief and a crushing dose of reality.

  I’m really doing this.

  I’m really giving up the job and the guy and the life I love.

  Closing my eyes against a barrage of tears, I head for the kitchen. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and my stomach flips again. I know without looking that it’s Samuel. He’s called a dozen times and left twice as many texts.

  Where are you?

  Please call me.

  Can we talk?

  I’m so fucking sorry.

  I can’t stop thinking about you.

  I hope you’re okay.

  Just thinking about them opens the floodgates all over again. I texted him earlier, telling him that I was all right but that I needed time.

  I know what I’m going to do. I just need to figure out what I’m going to say. My argument has to be watertight. And because Samuel is Samuel, he’s going to give me a lot of pushback, so I need to be prepared.

  But I also know that Samuel is hurting right now. Badly. And I’m only hurting him more by not answering his calls.

  Against my better judgment, I finally pick up the phone.

  “Hey.”

  “Em.” He lets out a breath. “Thank God, you answered. Where the fuck are you?”

  The gravelly timbre of his voice makes my skin break out in goose bumps.

  “You sound like hell,” I say.

  “I am in hell. Where are you?”

  “I came home.”

  Silence.

  “You left the farm?”

  “I told you, I needed space.”

  “You said you needed time. It’s been two hours. Can I come to you?”

  “No. Not right now.”

  More silence. Then in barely a whisper, “How are you feeling?”

  “Terrible. You?”

  “Same.”

  “For a second, I found myself wishing I had a chat date with MyBoyBlue. He always made me feel better.”

  “Funny, but Lady V had the same talent. I still can’t believe it was you.”

  “I still can’t believe I didn’t figure out that you were Blue sooner.”

  “Maybe we didn’t want to see the signs. Maybe we needed a simple escape when our real lives got complicated. It was a good kind of complicated, though. Still is.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “What can I do? To fix this?”

  I close my eyes. “Samuel, I don’t think it can be fixed.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Throw my lines back at me.”

  “Why? ’Cause it reminds you how fucking perfect we are for each other?”

  “It doesn’t matter if we’re perfect for each other if being together means hurting the people we love and burning down our lives. I didn’t want to do this tonight, but…Samuel, you need to focus on your family. And I need to focus on…me.”

  “What? Em, no. Please don’t.”

  I want to cry, but I steel my spine instead. “This is my two weeks’ notice. I think we all know y’all are better off without me. I just witnessed firsthand how much hurt I’ve caused you and your family. I also saw firsthand how much family means to you. I won’t mess with the special thing y’all have going on up at Blue Mountain. Also, let’s be real—the chances of me building a career there went up in smoke the second I walked into the restaurant tonight. That spectacle? Samuel, everyone’s going to know about it if they don’t already. I’ve worked too hard to live under a cloud of rumor and judgment and so have you. One of us needs to go, and it makes the most sense that it’s me.”

  Several beats of awful, bottomless silence fill a handful of heartbeats. I grab the nearest bottle of wine—an Arneis, perfect—and, tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder, try to dig my thumbnail inside the foil.

  “You’re resigning,” he says.

  “I am.”

  “Well, too damn bad because I don’t accept your resignation.”

  I sigh. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk to you until—”

  “Until what, Em?”

  “Until I was ready. But I guess I’ll never be ready to leave you, so now’s as good a time as any.” I glance over my shoulder and find Lindsey a few steps behind me, arms crossed, expression serious. “Hey, I gotta go. I asked for time, and I need you to respect that. We’ll work out the details of my transition at the restaurant tomorrow, okay?”

  “I’m begging you, baby, don’t shut down on me. Don’t I have a say in this?”

  I hand Lindsey the bottle and close my eyes. “I’m sorry, but my decision is final. It’s better this way. I’ll call Beau when I hang up with you.”

  “Let me tell him. Please. I need to be the one who explains…everything. When I’m done I’ll let you know so you can give him a call. Sound good?”

  “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  “Em?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

  I curl my fingers around the edge of the countertop, pressing the pads of my fingertips into the granite until they turn white. “Samuel, I already left.”

  The silence that follows makes me want to die.

  “Whatever happens,” he says at last, “I want you to know that I loved you before I found out you were V, and I love you now, and I’m pretty damn sure I always will love you, Emma Crawford. Because of you, I found myself again. I’m proud of who I am now. I like who I am. I’m focused on the right things, and that’s because I met you. You’re magic.” He clears his throat. “The time we’ve spent together has been fucking magical, baby, and I hope you’ll at least never regret that because you changed my life. Good night.”

  Jesus Christ, I can barely breathe.

  “Night, Samuel.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Samuel

  “I should fire your ass.”

  I meet Beau’s gaze across his kitchen table. He’s in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and he’s got a snoozing Maisie curled into the crook of his arm. Clearly, he was on his way to bed when I barged into his house half an hour ago.

  It’s no surprise he’s looking at me with daggers in his eyes.

  I clear my throat, praying my words don’t catch on the lump there. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m resigning.”

  Beau rolls his eyes. “Dude, now is not the time for jokes, okay? I’m tired as fuck, and Bel—”

  “Is impatiently waiting for you in bed,” she calls from the bedroom. “I may or may not
be wearing pajamas.”

  I let out a silent sigh of relief at the much-needed humor warming Bel’s voice.

  “For shame, y’all, there’s a baby present,” I say, loud enough for her to hear across the family room.

  “There won’t be when Maisie goes to bed.” Beau glowers at me. “Which won’t happen until you get the fuck out of my house. If you wake up in hell tomorrow, you’ll know who killed you. Hint: it was me. I shot you right between the eyes because you did exactly what I told you not to do and slept with Emma. Only the sommelier I’ve been trying to hire for two fucking years. The one woman who can not only expand our wine program, but who can take it to the next level. Take the entire resort to the next level and put us in a class of our own. Goddammit, Samuel, I could wring your neck.”

  My entire being burns with shame. I will the floor to open and swallow me in a single gulp.

  “I knew it,” Annabel yells. “Samuel, from the moment I saw you and Emma together, I knew y’all were trouble.”

  “I should’ve seen it. Maybe I did see it, but I was otherwise occupied.” He looks down at Maisie and smiles, then looks up at me and scowls. “You should go.”

  I dig the letter out of my jacket pocket and slide it across the table. “I’m serious, Beau. This is my letter of resignation, effective immediately. I’ve included my recommendation for my replacement.”

  “I’m not dealing with your bullshit right now.”

  “I’m not bullshitting.” I nod at the letter. “Open it.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, grabbing the paper. He scans it, eyes going wide. “Holy shit, Samuel. Just—holy shit.”

  “Told you I’m serious.”

  “But the cellar. The staff. No one can shut up about how great your little scone and martini breakfast icebreaker thing was. Brother, you were just hitting your stride.”

  I flatten my hands on the table to keep them from shaking. I’m scared as fuck, but I’m going in anyway.

  After I got off the phone with Emma, I didn’t hesitate. I knew exactly what I had to do.