Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (26 page)

“I’m going to have to hit the gym twice a day when we get back to New
York. Between last-night’s dinner and this-morning’s breakfast, I’ve probably consumed my weekly calorie allotment in two meals. How does your sister keep her girlish figure eating all that fat?”

Nathan took Laura’s hand as they walked back to the barn and the chicken coop. “You forget. She doesn’t ride a Herman Miller desk chair all day. She probably burns more calories before lunch, than we do all day.”

“And I thought you said Amanda was shy. She doesn’t strike me as shy at all. But rather . . . forthright.”

He looked back at the house where’d they’d left Amanda poring over an article on organic fertilizer.

“Yeah. That’s . . . well, I don’t know what that is. She’s never been so . . . demonstrative with people outside the family.”

“Maybe standing on her own two feet. Taking care of this farm. Gives a person confidence.”

“I guess.”

They stood for a moment watching the fuzzy yellow chicks and white laying-hens scratching and pecking for feed.

“Don’t tell me if one of these chickens is going to be tonight’s dinner.”

Nathan chuckled. “I saw a roast in the refrigerator. I think pot roast is on tonight’s menu.”

Laura snorted. “Let me guess, one of the cows?”

“Of course.”

Laura glanced over in horror at the cows grazing placidly in the field across the road. “I was only kidding.”

“You do realize the filet mignon you order in restaurants comes from cows?”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

Shaking his head, he took her hand. “Come on. I’ll show you some cute animals we don’t eat.”

They entered the dim interior of the barn. He inhaled the sweet scent of hay combined with the pungent odor of manure, and memories flooded in. Making out with Angela Simmons. The first calf his sister raised for 4-H. The blue ribbon she’d hung outside the stall. Helping to bring another calf into the world.

He watched as Laura picked her way through the barn in her ridiculous heels. “Don’t you have any other shoes with you?”

“No. Why?”

“Those aren’t very practical.”

“They’re boots, aren’t they?”

Nathan snorted. “What size are you?”

“Seven.”

“Same size as Amanda. You can borrow a pair of hers.”

Leading Laura to the corner, he knelt down in front of a mother cat and four little kittens in a variety of colors.

Laura knelt down next to him. “Awww.” She lifted her gaze to his. “How old are they?”

“Look to be about four weeks old.” He reached down, scooped up an orange one with a white star on its forehead. It mewed for its mother. He rubbed the furry little head against his cheek.

Handing Laura the kitten, she cradled it in her hand and gently stroked between its ears with her finger. “It’s so tiny,” she murmured.

Gazing at the wonder on her face, he asked, “Did you have pets growing up?”

“No. My mother said they’d make a mess in the house.”

“And you never wanted one when you grew up, moved out?”

She rubbed her cheek across the kitten’s silky fur. “Never really thought about it. Having a pet doesn’t really fit my lifestyle, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the nurturing type.” She returned the kitten to its littermates.

Laura was wrong. She was the nurturing type. She just did it differently. “After lunch I need to drive into town, pick up some supplies to repair a section of the barn roof. Care to ride along?”

“Okay. But I think I can skip the lunch part, so why don’t we go now?”

Chapter 22

“Well, if it ain’t Nathan Maxwell, Darla’s little darlin’.”

Standing in the aisle of the local farm supply and hardware store, Laura turned to see a man who appeared to be a good decade older than Nathan. His face creased with lines from too much time in the sun, possibly smoke from the cigarettes he reeked of. He swiveled his gaze to Laura and licking his lips, took in her snug capris, her form-fitting halter top, her skyscraper heels.

Ick.
She needed another shower after that look.

Always the gentleman, Nathan nodded at the man, “Ricky,” then made to step around him, but Ricky blocked his path.

“I heard your crazy grandmother mortgaged the farm to send you and your sister to school, and that you’re about to lose it to the bank. I also heard tell that you’ve turned down the developer’s offer to buy it.”

“Not your concern, Ricky. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

“Well, now I don’t have much excuse for you. Once a bastard, always a bastard. Thought you were too good for the likes of Darla. As if having a whore for a mother makes you any better than the rest of us.”

Laura sucked in a breath, itching to kick ol’ Ricky in the nuts.

Nathan froze, his hands fisted at his side.

“All that fancy education can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,” Ricky goaded.

“Don’t make me open up a can of whoop ass. Apparently the ass-kicking I gave you in sixth grade didn’t stick.” Nathan’s casual delivery couldn’t hide the tension in his body.

Ricky got up in Nathan’s face. “You want an ass-kicking, Maxwell? I’ll give you an ass-kicking.”

Nathan shoved Laura behind him. “I’m not here to teach you manners, Ricky. I don’t have that much time.”

Laura snickered, and Nathan threw her a look. “Now step aside.”

A staring contest ensued, which ended with Nathan as the victor. Ricky stepped aside, apparently realizing discretion was the better part of valor.

She heard Nathan release his breath and they proceeded down the aisle.

“Who the hell was that loser?”

“Ricky Wilder, town bully.”

“Did he bully you?”

“Can we talk about this later?”

“Sure.”

Nathan took the can of silicone roof sealant out of the cart and placed it on the checkout counter, followed by a couple bags of roofing screws, and a paint roller and extension.

“Nathan? Nathan Maxwell? Well, I’ll be.” The older gentleman behind the counter wore a broad grin. “What brings you back to Darla? You here visiting your sister?”

“Mr. Reddish.” Nathan put his hand out. “Good to see you.”

“Really sorry to hear about your grandmother. Pat was always a ray of sunshine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Reddish.”

“Heard you moved up to New York City. Still in the advertising business?”

“Yes.”

Laura chimed in loud enough for Ricky to hear, “He’s Vice President of Business Development for an ad agency. I’m Laura, by the way. Nathan’s girlfriend.” She could feel Nathan’s perplexed stare, but she continued. “Yeah, Nathan’s in charge of million-dollar ad campaigns and oversees the strategic vision for accounts. You probably remember his team’s Jack Daniels campaign.”

Nathan’s confusion turned to shock.

“Was that yours?” Mr. Reddish asked Nathan, something akin to pride on his face. “I loved those ads. Did you get to meet Sam Elliot? I just love that guy.”

“Yeah, he was great.”

Ricky had sidled up behind them, so Laura turned to him. “I’m sorry, Ricky, is it? We haven’t been introduced. I’m Laura. I didn’t catch what you do.”

At Ricky’s grimace, Mr. Reddish supplied, “He’s between jobs.”

“I see. Well, good luck with that.” She turned back to the counter as Mr. Reddish rang up the supplies, effectively dismissing Ricky.

“It sure was good to see you, Nathan. Don’t be a stranger. And give my best to that beautiful sister of yours.” He handed Nathan the receipt.

As they walked toward the door, Laura faced Ricky once more. “By the way, Ricky”—she cocked a hip, indicating her body with her hand—“not even in your wildest dreams.”

Nathan grabbed her arm and towed her out the door.

“Don’t poke the beast,” Nathan said
as he placed his free hand on the small of her back and directed her to the rental car. He popped the trunk and taking the bag from her, placed it next to the sealant can before closing the lid.

Walking around to the passenger door, he opened it for Laura.

“Maxwell!” Ricky stood not far from the car.

“Oh, for crissake!” Nathan muttered. “What now, Ricky?”

“I just wanted to tell your girlfriend that if she wants a real fuck to give me a call. Number’s still in the book.”

That’s it
. Seeing red, Nathan strode over to Ricky, and mid-stride drew back his fist before slamming it into Ricky’s face. Ricky’s knees wobbled once, twice, then he went down hard on his ass before collapsing to his back.

Nathan leaned over Ricky’s prone body, blood trickling from his nose. “Apparently one ass-kicking wasn’t enough for you.”

He walked back to the car. “Get in,” he told Laura.

She climbed in and shut the door. “Your hand! Does it hurt?”

“Like a mother.” He threw the car into ‘reverse’ and pulled out onto the main drag. He wasn’t lying. His hand throbbed like a son-of-bitch.

“Why did you do that? Punch him?”

“He insulted you. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.”

Clasping her hands gently around his injured one, she brought it to her lips, where she gingerly pressed a kiss to his bruised knuckles. “Thank you.” She gazed at him with genuine gratitude. And maybe something more.

“I’d do it again, if only to have you look at me like that.”

Her expression warmed his heart and eased the throbbing in his hand. A little.

“Open up a can of whoop ass?” Laura asked, her brow lifted.

He snorted. “Yeah. That was a little juvenile.”

“And oddly sexy.”

He shook his head and laughed.

When they’d almost reached the turn off to the farm, Nathan asked, “How did you know my agency in Atlanta created the Jack Daniel’s campaign?”

She shrugged. “I did some research. Needed to know who my competition was.”

He couldn’t fault her for that. He’d done the same thing.

“And why did you tell Mr. Reddish that you were my girlfriend?”

“Because Ricky was listening,” she said, as if the reason were obvious.

“Is that the only reason?”

“Of course. What other reason would I have?”

Ain’t that a pisser. His grandmother used to say, ‘Don’t ask the question if you won’t like the answer.’

“Heard tell you decked Ricky Wilder in front of Mack’s Fa
rm Supply and Hardware,” Amanda said, as she slathered butter on a biscuit so light and fluffy it could float right off the plate.

Nathan flexed his hand. “Yeah, and I’ve got the sore hand to prove it.”

“Apparently, Mr. Reddish left him lying in the parking lot, and when Ricky whined about it, Mr. Reddish said he must have done something to deserve it.” Amanda snorted.

“And how’d you come to know all this if you haven’t left the house?”

“Bonnie Zucker called me right after it happened.”

“Leave it to Bonnie, still the eyes and ears of Darla.” Nathan shoveled a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth.

Laura watched the exchange, noticing that Nathan’s accent had become heavier in the short time he’d been home. It made her insides tingle.

“I picked up the supplies to repair the barn roof. I’ll get on that first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’m sorry you’re working so hard.” Amanda said, a note of sadness in her voice. “I didn’t intend—”

“Oh, stop. I don’t mind. In fact, it feels pretty good to put this body to some use.”

And what a body it was,
Laura thought.

Seeing an opening, she went for it. “I have a confession to make,” she blurted out. Both Amanda and Nathan stopped mid-chew and stared at her. “I overheard your conversation last night—about the farm. I didn’t mean to, but as you said, the walls are pretty thin.”

Nathan put his fork down and looked away. She knew that he remembered what he’d said about the bonus and the Imperial account.

“Anyway, I’ve got an investment account, and I’d like to invest in the farm.” She ran on before either could stop her. “With the popularity of organic produce, grass-fed beef, and free-range chickens, I think the farm could be hugely successful. You could make contact with some
chichi
restaurants in Atlanta and Charlotte, and I could help you with that. I’ve got contacts with some top restaurants in the area that my agency handles.”

“No,” came Nathan’s quiet reply.

“But, I’d consider it a business deal.”

“No,” he said once more. He shoved his plate away and crossed his arms on the table.

Amanda filled the awkward silence. “Laura, you’re really sweet to offer, but this is something we have to do on our own. Gram did so much for us, and we want to return the favor by keeping the farm in the family.” She shot a glance at Nathan as he rose from the table, taking his plate to the sink.

“I’ll clean up,” he said, as he turned on the faucet. “Amanda, I need a word with Laura.”

Amanda slid Laura a look, then made a face that said,
Sorry.

“Do you think I want your money? That that’s why I’m with you?” he asked, his b
ack still to Laura.

“No. Of course not.”

“That I’d even take your money?”

“You wouldn’t be taking it.” She placed a stack of dishes on the counter next to the sink and stood there. So close. “It would be an investment.”

Even as pissed as he was, her scent could drive him mad.

“And I suppose you heard. That the Imperial account is more than just another account to me,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Are you doing this to relieve any guilt you might have if Giddings-Rose gets the account?”

He felt her bristle. Turning to face her, he saw the blue sparks in her eyes.

“I offered because I wanted to help. And because it made good business sense.” She swiveled to walk away, but he snagged her arm, pulled her back.

“I’m sorry.” He gazed into her eyes, watched as the fire banked, and with it the tension in her body eased.

She sighed. “Look. I want to help. If you won’t let me invest in the farm, at least let me put you in touch with a friend who’s handled these types of issues before.”

“Who is it?”

“My best friend’s husband, Josh. They live in New York.”

“The one you work with for the gala?”