Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (27 page)

She narrowed her eyes at him. “How’d you know that?”

“I Googled it.”

“You Googled it, why?”

“Curiosity.” He shrugged. “Why did you Google me?”

“Didn’t your grandmother ever tell you curiosity killed the cat?”

“But satisfaction brought it back.” Grinning, he hauled her in for a hug. Placing his hands over her mighty fine ass, he gave it a squeeze, then grabbing her shoulders he pushed her back and looked down into her eyes. “Thank you. For caring. For offering to help. I really appreciate it. But no money.” He kissed her nose. “So, when can we meet Josh?”

As Laura walked down the stairs, she frowned at the boots on her feet. Amanda’s. She had
on a pair of well-worn jeans and a T-shirt, also Amanda’s, all of which Nathan had left on the bed for her.
Hint, hint.

Being more curvaceous than Amanda, the shirt was a little snug over her breasts, and the jeans, well, they hugged her, er, curves.

Inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of fresh-brewed coffee, Laura headed for the kitchen. Empty. No bacon frying, no pancakes on the griddle.
What’s up with that?

Hmm, but a tantalizing smell wafted from the oven. Taking a peek, she gasped when she saw cinnamon buns the size of saucers. “I’ll never make it out of here without gaining ten pounds.”

Placing one on a plate, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. Pinching off a bite of the bun, she stuck it into her mouth. “Mmmm.” Closing her eyes, she savored the gooey frosting, the spicy cinnamon, the flaky pastry. The hell with the farm. Amanda should open a restaurant. New York would go crazy over her Southern delights.

After devouring the entire bun, she went off in search of other humans. Hearing hammering coming from the direction of the barn, she remembered Nathan intended to repair the barn roof. She came around the corner, and there he stood on the roof, in all his shirtless glory, sweat sluicing down those hard abs, jeans slung low. She licked her lips. “Glory be,” she said, then realized she’d uttered one of Amanda’s favorite phrases.

Nathan waved at her, then disappeared over the side. A minute later, he came around the corner of the barn toward her holding what looked like a bag of chips. “Mornin’, sugar.” He leaned in for a sweaty kiss.

Laura pressed her finger into his bare . . . hard . . . chest, holding him off. “Not until you’ve had a shower.”

“You didn’t mind my sweat on you last night.”

“That was different.”

Nathan chuckled, making her innards do a little dance. He held out the bag. “Pork rind?”

“Pork what?” She peered into the bag to find it full of something akin to Styrofoam puffs.

“Pork rinds. They’re a Southern delicacy.”

“Um. Maybe later.”
Like
much
later.

“How’s it going?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the morning sun and looking up at the barn roof.

“It’s going okay. Did you eat breakfast?”

“You mean those five-thousand-calorie cinnamon buns? Yes, I did.”

“And?”

“And, they were almost better than sex.” At his lifted brow, she continued, “I said almost.”

“Good to know who, or should I say what, my competition is.”

“Where’s Amanda?”

“In the barn grooming Midnight.”

“I thought she was supposed to be resting.”

“You tell her. She won’t listen to me.”

Laura headed in that direction, and Nathan called out to her. “What?”

“You’re adorable in those clothes.” He tilted his head. “What your ass does for those Wranglers ought to be illegal.”

“It is. In all fifty states,” she said as she sashayed off.

Nathan’s laughter followed her into the barn.

Laura found Amanda with the horse, a currycomb in her hand as she groomed it. The horse nickered Laura’s
presence.

“Do you need help on the roof?” Amanda asked without turning from her task.

“No.”

Amanda laughed. “I thought you were Nathan.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” Laura asked as she picked up a mane and tail comb from the bench outside the stall.

“Did Nathan send you in here to remind me?”

“No. Okay, yes.” Laura began working through the horse’s mane. At Amanda’s questioning glance, Laura supplied, “I used to take riding lessons, taking care of your horse was part of the deal.”

They worked in silence for a few beats.

“Nathan worries about you,” Laura continued.

“And I worry about him.” Discarding the currycomb, she picked up a hoof pick, walked around Midnight and lifted his hind hoof. “That’s what family does.”

Unless you’re part of the Armstrong family, Laura thought.

“Don’t hurt him.”

It took Laura a moment to realize Amanda wasn’t talking about the horse.

“You see,” Amanda continued, as she cleaned Midnight’s hoof, “when Nathan loves, he loves with his whole heart. It’s the only way he knows how.”

“Oh, he’s not . . . I mean we’re not . . . we’re just friends.” Laura untangled a knot in the mane quicker than she untangled the knot in her tongue.

“Friends with benefits?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Amanda moved to the horse’s other leg, then picked up his hoof. “You’re the first woman Nathan’s brought home.”

Laura didn’t know how to respond to that, so she continued running the comb through the mane.

“He’s got a lot of love to give, especially to the woman lucky enough to capture his heart.” She came around the other side of the horse and stood directly across from Laura, stroking Midnight’s nose. “I think you’re that woman.”

Chapter 23

“Come take a walk with me.” Nathan held out his hand to her. They’d just finished another artery-clogging, but delicious dinner of baked ham—Nathan’s favorite—butterbeans—Amanda’s favorite—fresh corn-on-the-cob—her new favorite—biscuits, and homemade peach cobbler. A walk sounded good.

“Where to?”

Nathan shrugged. “Around.”

They strolled hand-in-hand down the dirt road, past the cow pasture on one side, a small, wooded area on the other. Birds flitted across the road, a cow lowed in the field, and other than the sound of the wind in the trees and their feet scuffing along the dirt road, it was peaceful, silent. So different from the noise of the city.

She’d slept like a rock out here in the country. Between the fresh air, the quiet, and Nathan’s skillful sex, she’d never felt more rested.

Rounding a bend in the road, they came to a small area surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, headstones dotting the enclosure. An ancient oak provided shade to the eternal occupants.

“My family cemetery.” Nathan unlatched the gate, which swung open with a rusty groan.

Some headstones had shifted over the decades, tilting at odd angles, others were straight but weathered, their engravings barely visible. One looked new. Nathan stopped in front of it.

The headstone read: DOROTHY PATRICIA PARHAM-MAXWELL. Beneath that:

BELOVED GRANDMOTHER, CHERISHED MOTHER, LOVING WIFE. The date of death just six months earlier.

“My grandmother,” Nathan said. “I haven’t seen the headstone since it was installed.” He knelt down, plucked a couple of weeds growing on the slight rise above the grave, brushed the dirt off his hands.

Laura stepped up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her head on his strong back. His hands covered hers as he stood staring down at the headstone.

Laura spied another headstone, newer than the rest, directly across from where Nathan’s grandmother was buried. Releasing him, she walked over.

HOLLY RENEE MAXWELL

HOME AT LAST

Nathan’s mother.

“My grandmother brought her back here to be buried.”

She nodded, unsure what to say. She and Nathan moved down the line of graves, stopping to read the names. Generations who were born and died on this farm.

Nathan stopped in front of a headstone so dark, she could barely make out the engraving. “Turns out I was named for my great-grandfather, and Amanda, my great-grandmother. All those years I felt rootless, adrift in the world, thinking my only family was my sister and my mostly absent mother. And all along I had family roots so deep on these one hundred thirty acres, my sister is a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution.”

She could hear the pride in his voice. Pride in a rich ancestry.

“So, what’s this history you have with Ricky?”

He just shook his head.

“Come on. You can’t expect me to just let the incident in the hardware store go.”

He drew her over to a stone bench beneath the oak tree, propped his elbows on his knees and hung his head. Picking up a stick, he began to draw circles with it in a patch of dirt.

“Not long after Amanda and I came to live with our grandmother and started a new school, we were confronted by a group of boys who cornered us on the way home one day. Ricky was their leader.

He heaved out a breath. “Ricky called my mother a whore, said she screwed men for money, and that Amanda and I were bastards who didn’t even know who our fathers were. The rest of the kids laughed.”

Laura sucked in a breath, her heart breaking for Nathan and sweet Amanda. “What did you do?”

“Other than pulling Amanda behind me, I did nothing. What had Ricky said that wasn’t true?”

He dropped the stick, and his hands fisted. “But then they said my mom died of AIDS, asked if I had AIDS. When I didn’t answer, Ricky said, ‘AIDS got your tongue?’ and laughed at his own joke. By that time a small crowd had gathered, some of the kids egging Ricky and his gang on, others just waiting for the fight.”

Laura sat tense next to him, barely breathing with the anxiety she felt for him.

“I didn’t spend ten years on the streets of Atlanta and not learn a thing or two. I told Amanda to run along. I wanted her far from the fray once it started. When she finally turned to go, Ricky yelled, ‘Hey, little girl, you gonna be a whore just like your mother?’”

Laura sucked in a breath. Closed her eyes.

“Well, that did it. I kicked Ricky in the knees, and when he went down screaming, I threw a right hook and caught one of the other boys on the chin. Before he could throw another punch, Ricky was on me. After that everything happened so fast, that I don’t remember, but in the end, I had a black eye, a cut above my left eyebrow, and a fat lip, but the other kids were much worse for wear, including Ricky. They might talk big, but they couldn’t fight worth a shit. They’d never make it in inner-city Atlanta.”

Nathan finally turned to look at her. “Ricky’s parting shot was that I’d never be anything but a whore’s bastard.”

The pain she saw in his face wrenched her heart. Raising her hands, she cupped his face, gazed into his eyes, and said, “I should have kicked Ricky in the nuts when I had the chance.”

Nathan barked out a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling, eyes sparkling. Mission accomplished.

Nathan stretched out his long f
rame in one of the room’s chairs, feet propped up on an ottoman, a beer on the side table, as he watched the Braves baseball game. After a hot morning spent on the roof of the barn, he deserved a quiet evening. He wasn’t opposed to manual labor, he’d done it most of his life, but it sure made him appreciate his cushy office job.

Laura and Amanda sat close on the sofa, their heads bent close over a photo album across their laps.

“Here’s Nathan in his baseball uniform.”

Laura snickered. “You were so skinny.”

“Hey! I filled out when I got older.”

“I’ll say.”

Nathan felt Laura’s eyes on him. He took a tug on his beer, turning to look at her and winked.

“Is this you?” Laura asked

“Yes!” Nathan hissed out, doing a fist pump as the Braves drove in two runs.

Amanda giggled. “Yep. That’s me with the first vegetables I harvested from my garden. I’d forgotten about that photo. God, I was skinny.”

“And that’s your grandmother?”

“With one of her many blue ribbons for her award-winning blackberry pie. Mmm. Remember that pie, Nathan?”

“Sure do.”

“Try as I might, I just can’t get it like hers. Not too sweet, not too tart, and a crust to die for.” She closed the photo album and turned her body to face Laura. “What about you? What’s your family like?” Amanda asked.

Nathan’s ears perked up, but he kept his eyes on the TV.

“Oh, well, let’s just say my grandmother doesn’t make award-winning pies.”

“You’re so lucky to still have your grandmother.”

Laura drew a pillow across her lap, hugging it to her. The body language not lost on him, Nathan frowned, remembering her grandmother’s treatment of her for going on the cruise and missing her birthday.

“Yeah.” Laura’s lack of enthusiasm went unnoticed by Amanda.

“How about brothers and sisters?”

“I have a younger brother, but we don’t really get along.”

“Yeah, some siblings are like that, I guess. I know we get on each other’s nerves sometimes, but Nathan and I get along pretty good. And your parents, what do they do?”

After Laura explained that her father owned one of the world’s largest shipbuilding companies, Amanda asked, “So you grew up in New York?”

“Yes, well, outside the city. I grew up in Westchester County, about an hour north.”

“Must have been something growing up the daughter of one of the world’s richest men.”

“Oh, it was something.” She gave Amanda a wan smile and caught Nathan’s eye. Her expression said,
Help.

“Amanda? Any of that peach cobbler left?”

For once, L
aura was happy he read her so well. After that conversation with Amanda in the barn earlier, and then Nathan’s story in the cemetery, Laura felt off balance. Out of sorts. And tales of her family woes were not high on her list of topics she wanted to discuss.

“Good gravy, you must have a bottomless pit. It’s in the pie safe.”

“Hey! I was up on that roof most the day, butterbean.”

“Butterbean. How does someone get a nickname like butterbean?” Laura asked, seizing on an opportunity to take the conversation in another direction. Away from her. “And you can’t tell me it was because of your weight.”