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Knowing it’d crush Emma too.
I couldn’t have done a worse thing. I didn’t ask for consent. Didn’t think about anyone or anything other than my own hurt and shame.
“I’m sorry,” I say and drag my thumb and forefinger over my eyes. “I know I keep saying that, but I mean it, Samuel. I’ve told Emma the same thing, many times.”
“We’re sorry too. We want you to be a part of the wedding. Come home. Let me see you. If you’re not a strung-out, hungover asshole—”
“Hey. That’s Rhett.”
Samuel laughs. “If you’re really okay, if you’ve really moved on . . . welp, we’ll start planning the damn thing.”
“I’m telling you, I’m fine.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Another pause. “Please, Hank. Mama’s dyin’ without you. Milly, she’s always full of piss and vinegar, but she’s been especially ornery since you left. Granted, I think that might have to do with Kingsley—”
“That fucking guy.”
“No shit. But yeah, everyone’s missing you something fierce. Not to mention the resort. It isn’t the same without you, brother.”
“Hogwash. I’m sure y’all are getting along just fine.”
“You know that’s not true. Come home.”
I glance out at the mountain. Skiers and snowboarders are making their last runs of the day. I imagine Clyde is out there too, torturing some other poor shithead.
It hits me like a freight train, the certainty that I’m done here.
I’m done with my retirement bender.
Still, I’m not entirely sure if I have a place to land anymore. Can I go back to Blue Mountain and look my brother in the eye and tell him I’m okay?
Do I believe that? If I don’t, how the hell do I get Samuel to? I’m not gonna hold up his wedding. I’ve done too much damage as it is. I thought I was fixing it by leaving North Carolina. But now I see that to fix it, to really make things right, I have to go back home.
Samuel and I say our goodbyes. After we hang up, I scroll through my contacts, slowing when I reach C.
Stevie Carter.
She’s on the other side of a thumb tap. It’s that simple. But I still hesitate, the pad of my thumb hovering over her number.
I’m not sure if I’ll need to fake it—fake that I’ve moved on. I’ve felt so different lately about a lot of things.
Regardless, I need to convince Samuel I’m fine with him and Emma spending forever together.
Maybe I need to convince myself too. And hell, another weekend of hot sex sounds pretty sweet. So does having someone to take care of. Stevie kept my hands busy.
I like being busy.
So I hit her number and pray like hell she doesn’t hate me for what I’m about to ask.
Chapter Seven
Stevie
I look up from a roll of blueprints at the sound of my ringtone.
My brow furrows, and my heart skips when I see none other than Hank Beauregard’s name lighting up the phone screen.
My first thought is oh God, I hope he’s not calling to tell me he gave me an STI.
My second thought is oh God, I hope he wants to have phone sex.
I pick up the phone, glancing around the office. It’s a little after five o’clock, and the place is still bustling. As proud as I am of the fact I oversee a team of ten (!) full-time employees, I kinda wish I had the place to myself right now.
I bite my lip. Even from how many thousands of miles away, Hank still has the power to turn me into a total lady perv. Good thing too. Since Vegas, I haven’t been tempted to even call my regulars, much less see them. I was beginning to worry my sex drive had shriveled up and died.
“Hello?”
“If it isn’t blackjack babe. Hi, Stevie.”
My nipples pebble at the gravelly timbre of his voice. “Hi, Hank.”
“I was calling to have a little cocktail hour with you over the phone. I’ve got my tallboy can of your namesake brew right here. You got a few minutes to spare?”
“For you?” I get up and move through my office door, heading to the taps that line the far wall of Lady Luck’s workspace. Our brewhouse is downstairs, so I had keg lines run up another floor. It’s a perk my employees and I very much enjoy. “Always.”
Tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder, I pour myself a Blackjack Babe. “Where are you these days?”
“Aspen. It sucks. What about you?”
“Aspen sucks? That’s a bummer.” Ria, my assistant, looks up from her screen and catches my eye. She gives me a thumbs-up, eyebrows raised. All set for the day?
I tilt the phone away from my mouth. “All set—amazing work on this week’s newsletter. Now get out of here and go celebrate your anniversary. Tell Nico I said hi!”
“Assistant?” Hank asks as I breeze back into my office, closing the door behind me.
