Silent Hearts (Hamilton Stables 3) (3 page)

“We’ve had conversations.”

“You should have tried again.”

“You would have said no.”

“Damn straight.”

“You are being ridiculous. When are you going to see that?”

“It’s my decision.”

“It’s time,” Trip said, softer this time. “The business is declining. It’s a great time to sell. And you’re . . .”

“I’m what?”

He could hear Trip’s hesitation.

“I’m what?”

“You’re over it. You’ve lost whatever it was that drove you to succeed. Now you’re a vessel there, you’re miserable, and you’re making the staff miserable. Look out into the office. Look at the faces of the people working for you. For us. And be honest—do they look happy?”

A chill worked down Nick’s spine. “It’s expected after a death.”

“He didn’t just die, Nick. Dad’s been dead for five years now, and I know it’s hard—”

“You don’t!” So much for not yelling.

“I do! And so does Alex. He was our dad, too, and we miss him, too. But we have to move on. We have to continue our lives.”

Nick wanted to scream that it was easy for them to move on, to continue their lives. They had lives, had wives and kids and a future. Nick had nobody, and if they took Industries, then he’d lose the last thing he had keeping him from falling apart.

“You can’t sell without my signature.”

“You’re right. But we’re hoping eventually you’ll see reason. It’s time, man. When are you going to see that?”

Never
, Nick thought.

“You shouldn’t have thrown this at me.”

Trip sighed again. “Fine, I’ll give you that. We shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry. But we’re worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because I don’t think you are.”

Nick opened his mouth to argue, then closed it and turned around to look out into the office. Sure enough, everyone he could see appeared miserable. Had he really made it this bad here? Clearly so.

“Look, I’ve gotta go.”

“Think about it, okay?”

Nick drew a breath. “Fine.”

“Nick . . .”

“I said I would.”

They hung up, and Nick wondered how he’d fallen so far without realizing it. How he’d let the business and its people turn into this, this ... whatever the hell this was. He needed to get out of there, to think, and there was only one place to go.

Becca Stark, you’re about to get a visitor
. And the way things were headed, he might never leave.

B
ecca toweled off her long wet hair, her skin still clammy from the mix of the heat outside, the humidity from her shower, and her desire to keep her A/C turned off. She liked to save on heating and cooling from September through November, but with summer holding on strong, September still felt like July and she was struggling to keep away from the controller, eager to drop that baby down to 65.

All right, 68. She was hot, not crazy.

But with only her income to keep the power on, she had to be responsible. So she sauntered over to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a white tank top. Then she moved to the bottom drawer on the right and tugged out a pair of tiny cotton shorts she’d stuffed there the day before.

Once dressed, she let her damp hair down around her shoulders, hoping it would help keep her cool, and then, when that did no good and she still felt like she might spontaneously combust, she walked into her kitchen and popped open her trusty freezer, then closed her eyes as the cool air hit her skin.

“Yes, baby, that’s it. Right there.”

An all-too-familiar chuckle hit her ears and she glanced over quickly before resuming her position in front of the freezer, frozen steaks be damned.

“You know, Bec, you could just run your A/C like a normal person.” Nick closed her front door. “And lock your damn door. I could be a serial killer or something.”

Becca peeked one eye open at him. “Are you?”

“Not usually, though after the day I’ve had, my brothers might make the list.”

“I sense a story there.”

She closed her eyes again and ordered her heart to ignore the man before her, to slow down. It was running away like a crazy thing in her chest, doing nothing more than elevating her temperature, and she was already hot enough.

“Isn’t there always a story these days? But before we go there, what’s up with the freezer treatment?”

“It was insane at the diner today, the kitchen running wild and burning me up. I tried to cool off on the ride home with the windows down and all, but it’s still so dang hot outside, so all the windows let in was more hot air. Then I tried to take a cold shower, but you know I’m a chicken and couldn’t manage it. So now I’m here.”

Nick walked by her, his arm grazing her back in a quick hello, and Becca clenched her eyes shut as a tingly feeling worked through her from the spot he’d touched, out through the rest of her, until she was a buzzing, numb mess. Like always around him. By now she would have expected her body to become immune to Nick, but after more than twenty years, instead of her wanting him less, she wanted him more. It was pathetic and ridiculous, and did she mention pathetic? But there it was.

He opened the fridge side, pulled out a beer, and closed it, then sat down on one of the barstools. “You know you have A/C in your car, too, right?”

“Uses extra gas.”

“So?”

“So, King Hamilton, I’m not in the habit of wasting money by using extra of anything.”

At the insult, Nick’s eyes dropped to his beer, and she felt like crap. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“Well, I’m hot.”

A smile played at his lips as his eyes slowly slipped down her body and then back up, sending a fresh wave of sparks and silly hope working through her. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What are you doing here anyway?”

At that, Nick took a long pull of his beer, and Becca’s brow creased. “What happened? You said you were ready to kill your brothers.”

“Nothing really. Same old stuff.”

“I know that tone.” She closed the freezer and then, missing its wonder, she fanned herself with her tank top. “It’s time I reconsider a move up north, but then snow and driving in snow.”

“Yeah, that’d be pretty dangerous with your track record.”

She continued to fan herself. “What? It was one mailbox, not the whole street.”

“Two mailboxes.”

“All right, fine. Two. But I bought them replacements.” She grabbed a flyer from her stack of mail, folded it in half, and used it as a makeshift fan. “Ahhh.”

“What are you, menopausal or something?”

She pointed at him. “Watch your mouth, boy.” He laughed, the sound so glorious she almost closed her eyes again so she could bask in it, but then that would be all sorts of awkward, and Becca tried to maintain her cool around her best friend. Even if right now she was anything but cool in every sense of the word.

“Now spill it.”

Becca pulled out a bottle of water and leaned a hip against the counter.

“You could at least drink with me.”

“It’s five thirty. I like to keep my alcoholic tendencies for nighttime hours.”

“It’s
P.M.
That stands for nighttime.”

“Wow. Is that what that Ivy League education of yours taught you? ‘Cause you might want to ask for a refund. At least a partial, right? Because night starts with an
N
, not a
P
, and time starts with a
T
, not an
M
. And, in fact,
P.M.
stands for post meridiem, so you can send me that money they give you for the refund.”

“All right.” Nick pulled out his wallet, counted out several bills, and tossed them onto the counter. “Now go turn on the damn A/C. It’s hot in here.”

With a loud, long, and drawn-out sigh, Becca pushed the money back toward him. “You know I’m not taking that.”

“Well, I’m not taking it back, so take it or burn it.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing to me.”

“See that right there? That’s why you can’t get a solid date. No girl wants a guy who burns money. I mean seriously. Not only is that six shades of insane, but hello, fire hazard, right?”

He cracked a smile and she grinned back, lost in those amazing blue eyes, crystal clear even through his glasses. Years and years around him and she still couldn’t pinpoint the exact shade. They were sky blue with flecks of navy and turquoise. They were perfect ... he was perfect.

And now she’d drifted into lala land again.

“Now that you’re less jerk-ish, can you tell me what’s going on?”

Nick fiddled with his beer bottle while she walked over to the wall unit, tapped the gauge from 78 to 75. That was the best she could do, and even that small drop made her cringe.

“Thank you, Madame Cheap.”

“You’re welcome, Sir Spend-a-Lot. Now can you tell me what happened?”

“An investor came by the office today.”

“The Lexington office?”

“Yeah, surprise visit. Or at least a surprise for me.”

“So they just showed up? Who do they think they are? And do they know who you are? I mean, you don’t just show up to meet with Nick Hamilton. That requires special contacts and appointments months and months in advance. Even then he might be too busy to show.”

He laughed now and joined her on her couch, loosening up into the Nick she adored so much. “Actually, it wasn’t a total surprise visit. Trip and Alex set it up, driven by Trip no doubt. Alex would never ambush me like that. Plus, they weren’t even there, just me looking like a dumbass.”

“Damn.”

“I know.”

“Well, what did you say?”

Nick smiled as he took another sip of his beer. “To get the hell out.”

“You didn’t.”

“Basically. And then I called Trip and told him he could screw himself. That I was the one who did everything for Dad, that it was my business, not theirs.”

At that Becca cleared her throat and became very interested in the wrapping around her water bottle, which had a small tear in it just begging to be torn wider. These sorts of imperfections were Becca’s undoing.

“Say it.”

“What?” She continued to work the tear until it sliced across the wrapper, and then that looked positively silly so she had to pull the wrapper off completely. Now there was just that annoying glue line ... and avoiding Nick’s question.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking. I can practically hear you already and you haven’t said a word.”

Becca turned to him and crossed her legs up under her like a five-year-old, the way she always sat. God, no wonder Nick couldn’t see her as anything but a friend. She acted like a tiny child, not at all like a thirty-three-year-old should act.

“I’m listening.”

“Well, it’s just that it is their business, too. And I know you did everything for Carter, but he was their dad, too. I just think before you yell at them, you should hear them out.”

Nick shook his head, fuming already. “You agree with them, don’t you?”

“No. I don’t think they should have scheduled a meeting with the investors without telling you. Especially without having the balls to show. That was wrong. Way wrong. But they love you. And you love them. This isn’t something that should separate your family. I mean, I can’t stand Reagan half the time, but she’s my sister. Family matters, and you don’t shut them out. You talk.”

“There’s nothing to say. They want to sell, I don’t. We’re at an impasse and they can’t sell without my signature. There’s no way in hell I’ll give it. It’s just . . .” He stared off into her small family room, and if she didn’t know Nick so well, she might have been embarrassed.

It was cozy in an affordably chic kind of way. She’d had her uncle install hardwoods a few years ago, had painted just last year, and her curtains and wall hangings were cute. But still, his apartment in Lexington was so much nicer than her tiny ranch house, and forget his house over at the Hamilton farm. Two of her houses would fit inside his house. Her house might have been nice enough when it was built in 1987, but it hadn’t aged especially well, and though she’d made updates after her grandmother died and left the house to her, it was still an old house.

“You know you don’t have to decide today.” She reached out and took his hand, and he immediately threaded his fingers through hers. They’d held hands like this plenty of times over the years, but after his father died, she’d found him holding on for longer, like he needed a bit of her strength.

“It’s just ... Trip said something that’s stayed with me, and now I wonder if I’m really holding on for myself rather than the good of the company”

“What did he say?”

“He said the staff aren’t as happy as they used to be. Like I’m some brooding boss, making everyone’s life miserable. Am I a brooding boss?” His blond locks fell over his glasses, his mouth set in a half frown, and it took everything in her not to wrap her arms around him and hug him until that frown turned into a smile again.

“No. Well, maybe a little. But it’s only natural. You lost your father.”

“Five years ago.”

Becca shrugged. “Still hurts. Years don’t erase the pain.”

He finished off his beer. “Yeah, but I should be dealing with it better. Over it by now.”

“Says who? There’s no expiration date on bereavement. Memories last a lifetime, and those memories can burn like a hot iron when you know there’s no reliving them.”

“I think that’s the real reason I don’t want to sell. If I sell, then it’s like he’s really gone.”

“But, Nick ... he
is
gone. Selling or not won’t change that fact. It sucks and I wish with all my heart it weren’t true, but it is, and you can’t keep living your life by the code of WWCD.”

“WWCD?’

“You know—What Would Carter Do?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you? It was one summer, one WWJD bracelet. They were trendy.”

“So were fanny packs, but you didn’t see me wearing one.”

He chuckled softly. “Touché, though I think you’d look hot as hell in a fanny pack.”

“Yeah, not happening, but don’t you think it’s funny that ‘hot as hell’ is meant as a compliment when ‘you look like hell’ is an insult? I mean, what’s that about? It’s interesting, right?”

“No, not even a little bit.”

Now it was Becca’s turn to laugh. “Want to stay for dinner?”

“Nah, I want to go out.”

Suddenly, Becca remembered what Alex and Kate had hinted at earlier, and she pulled her hand free from his, ignoring the confusion that crossed his face. “Right. Alex and Kate mentioned something about that.”

“About what? Wait, when did you see Alex and Kate?”

“They were at the diner this morning.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“So you don’t want to go get something to eat? I’ll buy. Just in case you forgot, I’m loaded.” He flashed her that Crest commercial smile of his.

“Loaded with arrogance. But seriously, what about ... ?” Becca trailed off, hoping Nick would fill in the gap, but all he did was cock his head.

Though, really, did it matter if he were seeing someone? They were friends. And friends had dinner together all the time. It was fine, natural, but then why didn’t he tell her that he’d met someone, and why didn’t he go to this new chick’s house to talk out his issues instead of hers? And why hadn’t he introduced her to this woman? Or maybe he was embarrassed to introduce Becca, the waitress, to what was sure to be a fancy, rich kind of lady.

“Bec?”

“What?”

“Dinner?”

“Right.” Becca swallowed hard and tried to push aside the ache in her chest, the sadness working its way through her stomach. “Sure. Just let me change.”

Nick thumbed the hem of her shorts. “Why? I like those. They’re like bathing suit bottoms or something.”

Becca swatted his hand. “Shorts, asshole. They’re called shorts.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m changing for sure now.”

Nick huffed loudly and made a show of getting up. “All right, all right. I’ll help you get undressed. You don’t have to yell at me about it.”

Becca grinned and pushed him back down. “You are so stupid.”

“You love me.”