Silent Hearts (Hamilton Stables 3) (4 page)

“I do,” Becca said.

Nick placed a hand on the small of Becca’s back as he led her through Ray’s Crab Shack, one of their favorites, and apparently the busiest place in town.

He’d seen Becca in plenty of dresses, but after watching her in front of that freezer door, wearing that tiny tank top and those barely there shorts, he was struggling to keep from touching her. Which was ridiculous, not to mention dangerous.

Becca was his best friend, he adored her, but he couldn’t deny that Becca had turned into a beautiful woman, with curves in all the right places and the kind of rich, olive skin of Brazilian models. Couple that with her long, brown and caramel wavy hair and green eyes, and Nick had to force himself not to stare.

Plus, the looks she kept getting around the restaurant were enough to cause his alpha side to take over. She might not be his, but she wasn’t theirs ... at least not yet.

He ignored the pang in his chest at the thought of Becca with someone else, married off, no longer his whenever he needed her. He knew he was a selfish ass for wanting to monopolize her time, but he needed her friendship too much right now to lose it.

Thankfully, Becca had only had two real relationships, one of which had ended just a year ago, and even those were short. Nick didn’t really know why she wasn’t already married or why she refused to date a guy for long, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Want to sit outside?”

Becca’s gaze fell on the back deck. “You remember the freezer incident, right?”

“Come on. There’s a nice breeze coming off the lake tonight. If you get hot, we’ll move.”

Her gaze switched to Nick, then the overly crowded restaurant, where Nick would have to pay attention to how he acted around Becca or else land her in the thick of Hamilton family gossip, and he didn’t want to deal with that tonight. Right now, he wanted to lose himself in one of their crazy conversations, have a few beers, and forget the rest.

“Fine, but you’re buying me one of those fruity drinks to make up for it.”

He grinned. “Fruity drink coming up.” Nick tapped the shoulder of the waitress walking in from outside. “We’ll have a Miller Lite and a piña colada out here.”

“All right, Nick,” the waitress said with a smile. “Anything else you need?”

“No, that’s fine. Thanks.”

The door closed behind her, and Becca and Nick continued around to a table by the railing, overlooking the expansive lake that was as calm and clear as possible tonight. A pang of regret moved through him as he remembered all his fishing trips out there, the competitions he’d entered and won, how close he’d been to being so much more than the person he was today.

But then, was that really the life he’d want if he had a family? Traveling all the time, never a solid income beyond his inheritance and earnings from Hamilton Industries and Stables?

No.

Plus, he’d never feel right earning money from the Hamilton businesses just because his last name was Hamilton. He had to work for what he earned.

“What was that about?” Becca asked, pulling his attention back to the moment.

Nick glanced around. “What’d I miss?”

“That waitress. She was very nice.” Becca’s eyebrow was cocked, and she was staring at Nick like she was hoping he’d give her the missing piece to some complex puzzle.

“Um, I guess so. Look, what do you think of—”

“But you know her, right?”

“I’ve seen her before, sure. What’s this about?”

At that, Becca stared out over the water. “Nothing. Just trying to figure something out.” She bit her lip and Nick’s attention switched to her mouth, curious what it would be like to kiss that mouth. Would she taste all sunflowers and summer air, the way she smelled, or would he find something totally different—totally new? He’d found his mind drifting there more times than he could count lately, which meant he needed to put an end to his self-imposed drought before his hormones made him do something crazy. Like hit on his best friend.

But truthfully, drought or not, it had always been hard to ignore his attraction to Becca. After all, she was a woman—a very, very attractive woman—and she was smart and funny and her smile could stop him in his tracks. She was—

He shook his head before his thoughts could travel anywhere else.

“She’s a waitress, Bec.”

Her gaze snapped back over to him. “So am I.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, she works here. I’ve seen her before here, but I don’t know her. Do you? Is that why you’re asking?”

“No. I just . . .”

“What?”

“Well, Alex and Kate mentioned something, and I’m just curious why you haven’t told me yourself.” She stared at Nick pointedly, almost like he was in trouble, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he might have done.

The waitress in question brought over their drinks and smiled wide as she asked for their order.

“We’ll both have the crab cakes.”

She eyed Becca like she wanted to make sure he wasn’t ordering for her without her permission, but Becca and Nick had ordered the same thing everywhere they went for years. They’d learned a long time ago that if they didn’t, they’d only want whatever the other one had and end up switching plates, so they’d made an agreement to get the same thing and save each other the whole spectacle.

“That’s it.” Becca’s eyebrows went up again and the waitress’s eyes fell on Nick, and Becca repeated, “I said that’s it. We’re done ordering.”

Nick’s gaze traveled back to his best friend in confusion. “What was that?”

“She was staring at you like you’re a celebrity.”

“Well, I am. Didn’t you hear? I’m the reason they put in that traffic light on Green and Main. They should build a monument in my honor.”

Becca laughed, the moment easier to sit in, but Nick had to wonder where this was coming from and why it sounded a hell of a lot like jealousy. But Becca had never once hinted at any interest in Nick. There was an unspoken agreement between them that they couldn’t go there, and neither of them had—despite Nick’s thoughts drifting there more often than they should.

“So, like I was saying, did you watch Crazy Cane’s latest on chemtrails?”

Crazy Cane was an anonymous YouTuber who videoed all kinds of conspiracy theory things, then uploaded them to his channel of millions of subscribers like Nick and Becca, who both loved a good conspiracy theory.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“So are you and you know it. Now, did you watch it?”

She leaned in closer. “You know I did. The question is why would the government spray crap all around the sky for no good reason?”

Nick matched her lean. “It isn’t for no good reason. It’s to hide whatever would have been seen. They’re keeping something from us.”

“Did you hear what you just said?”

“I did. Look, I’m not in business mode right now. Give me a break.”

“Well, can you at least try for English?”

Nick laughed as he rose up to take a drink from Becca’s straw. Her gaze hit his, and he realized how close he was to her. If he moved a few inches, his lips wouldn’t be on her straw—they’d be on her mouth.

Swallowing, because clearly his beer was hitting him too quickly, he cleared his throat and sat back down. “It’s good.”

“It is, but they put too much rum in it, or whatever they use to make it. I’m going to pass out and you’ll have to carry me to your car.”

Nick’s eyes danced with mischievousness. “But then how could you be sure I wouldn’t take advantage of you?”

“Because you’re you,” a deep voice said from behind them, and Nick turned to see Trip and Emery standing there. “Care if we join y’all?”

Nick’s jaw tightened. “It’s a two-person table.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“Not here.”

“Hey, Nick.” Emery leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“Hey, Em. Doing okay?”

She smiled. “I am.” Then she walked over and kissed Becca’s cheek, too. “Hey, Bec.”

Becca hugged her, and they all sat in awkward silence for a moment, before Becca nodded to the table beside them. “You can pull up that table.” Nick glared at her, but all she did was glare right back.

“I thought you said y’all worked this out,” Emery said to her husband.

“We did,” Trip said.

Nick laughed sarcastically. “Right. How’d you know I was here anyway?”

“Saw your car.”

Nick eyed Becca. “We should have taken your car.”

“Still would have known it was you. You two are attached at the hip lately. If Becca’s not at the diner, you’re usually with her.”

The back deck had filled up now, the evening crowd out, and the last thing Nick wanted was for them to hash this out in the open like this, with half the town’s ears pricked for some good gossip. The brothers had agreed to maintain the Hamilton family image after their father died, avoid gossip, and make sure the town trusted them to continue the legacy. The last thing the Hamilton name needed was for the town to see the brothers arguing.

“Sit already before they start talking.”

Trip released a breath, and Nick realized for the first time that his brother was nervous. A part of him thought
good, he should be
, but the other part felt bad. This wasn’t how things should be between them. Trip handled Stables and Nick handled Industries and that was just how things went. Nick would never dream of trying to sell Stables without consulting Trip, and regardless of what his brother said, he knew a part of him felt guilty for stepping on Nick’s toes.

“Can I get y’all something?” The waitress came back over, her gaze hitting Nick again before going to Trip and Emery, and he thought Becca might fly out of her seat. The thought made him smile despite his brother’s presence.

“Sweet tea for me,” Emery said.

Trip motioned to Nick’s glass. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

The waitress smiled at Nick. “I’d like what he’s having, too.”

“What does that even mean?” Becca said, and Nick grinned over at her as the waitress scooted off.

“Calm down, bulldog.”

“She’s ridiculous. I mean, own it, girl. If you want to give him your number, do it. Don’t dance around.”

Emery tapped her fingers against the table, her eyes twinkling as she peered at Becca. “I think there’s only one woman Nick’s calling these days.” Then there was a loud thump from under the table, followed by, “Ouch. I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re saying plenty.” Trip shook his head at his wife, like she’d revealed some scandalous secret. And then Becca took a long sip of her piña colada, refusing to meet Nick’s eye.

What the hell was going on? So what if Nick hung out with Becca all the time? It wasn’t like this was something new. He’d been hanging out with her since they were kids, and losing his dad had done nothing more than confirm to him that she was the only person beyond his brothers who meant anything to him. And maybe the only person in the world who truly understood him. He’d hang out with her as much as he liked, outside opinions be damned.

“Anyway, what were y’all talking about?” Emery asked, attempting to change the subject.

“Chemtrails.”

“What trails?” Trip asked. “Wait, is this that conspiracy theory nonsense again?”

Case in point. Becca would never call it nonsense because she believed all the crazy as much as he did.

“It’s not nonsense,” Becca said. “This guy films it all. You can’t argue with evidence.”

Nick’s eyes fell on his friend, and he thought the rest of them could all go to hell. This was his person, the one who got him, and he got her, and that kind of friendship didn’t have to be explained.

“So what’s happening at the stables?” Nick asked, sure that mention of the farm would get Trip going on a tangent, and it did.

He started in on a few new stallions Alex had bought, new owners he was working with, and before long they’d eaten their crab cakes, finished their third round of drinks, and Becca was yawning.

“We should probably head on. Becca has an early day tomorrow.” Her eyebrows rose in question because she had the day off, but Nick had taken all the niceties he could handle. He wanted to relax, and he could no longer do that with Trip around.

“Right, early day.”

“All right, see you two later.” Emery rose up and hugged Becca, then Nick, and Trip offered his hand for Nick to shake. But Nick knew his brother, and he knew that shake would serve as an unspoken agreement that he was okay with selling, okay with what Trip had done. So instead of taking his hand, he patted him on the back.

“We’ll talk Monday.”

“Nick . . .”

“Monday. I’ve had enough for today.”

Trip nodded slowly, they said their good-byes, and finally Nick was outside the restaurant, breathing in the chilled night air, his mind fuzzy from the effort to sit beside his brother without starting an argument. He and Becca climbed into his BMW and he set off down the road, the quiet giving way to thoughts he didn’t want to have—questions he didn’t want to answer. Because at the end of the day, maybe Trip was right. Maybe it was time to sell.