Thank God for strong pillars. Amelia, dressed in a pair of gray yoga pants, her favorite University of Alabama shirt and red flip-flops, leaned against the cool, large column and took in the vision of sculpted muscle. Sweat dripped down the center of Nate’s back. He stood with his back turned from the house for a break, resting his elbow on the top of the shovel. It was already noon and in three hours he’d prepared a space behind Grandmamma’s hydrangea bushes for a hidden ramp. Nate briefly argued that her grandmamma did not need to advertise her age nor her ailment if she was going to be the only one living here by herself.
Without knowing, Nate’s words caused Amelia to cringe inside. Every time she spoke with her mother, she was riddled with guilt, maybe survivor’s remorse. She’d left town and never looked back, but would anyone blame her? Southwood was a small step up from Mayberry and Amelia had bigger plans for her life than being the wife of some peach farmer. Perhaps at one point in her life she’d thought she would live in town, run her family’s ice-cream parlor and live happily-ever-after, but everything had changed when everyone in town had turned on her family. So much for small-town loyalty, she thought with the bitter tug of a half grin. According to everyone, her article for the paper hurt businesses.
A drizzle of cold moisture trickled down her fingers from the glass of iced tea she held. Amelia shook her head to shake out the unwanted memories. The square ice cubes clinked against the glass, and Nate turned around. Amelia’s heart seized against her ribs when he smiled. Sunlight glinted in his dark green eyes. His mouth opened for a bright, toothy smile and his bicep flexed when he waved at the sight of her. Dark hairs sprinkled against his chiseled jaw from missing his morning shave—she refused to feel guilty about that. Amelia turned her glare from his, spying the crumpled up T-shirt he’d stripped out of on the gravel driveway. The man needed to be on camera. If she were a casting agent, she’d place him as the heartthrob, the one who would go on to be a star. If Nate could get her insides all gooey, she could only imagine what the rest of America would do at the sight of him. Hell, last night his lingering kiss had crept into her dreams. By the time she woke up, she’d needed a nice cold shower.
“How’s it going in there?” Nate called out.
Despite the giant glass of ice tea she’d polished off in the kitchen, Amelia’s mouth went dry. Did her desire for him read across her face? Damn it! In her world of highly emotional women and situations, she practiced constraint on her desires. One bat of an eyelash from one cast member at another could spark an entire storyboard and carry the show throughout the season. The summer heat cast a layer of moisture across her forehead and in the palms of her hands. The glass slipped and the ice clinked again.
“What?”
“Inside.” Nate pulled off the familiar brown work gloves from the barn. “You were moving some of your grandmother’s belongings from downstairs?”
“Oh, um...” Amelia fumbled for the words to say as heat crept up her neck. “Yes, I’m making headway.”
To say “some of her belongings” was an understatement. Amelia did not want her grandmother risking her life again by tripping down or up the steps, but she herself had nearly tripped a few times bringing some of Grandmamma’s church dresses downstairs. She knew her grandmother would have a fit when she came home—but this was for the best.
“Is that for me?”
Amelia followed Nate’s head nod toward the glass in her hand. She held her breath as Nate climbed over the trellis onto the side of the porch. With each step he took closer to her, her heart raced. With one hand he reached for the glass, while with the other outstretched hand he held out a couple of long-stemmed daisies. She loved the simple flower. Nothing said being in the country like stretching out on a bed of daisies, gazing into the sky and guessing the shapes of clouds. As he took the glass, their fingers grazed against each other. Sparks emerged. To recover from them, Amelia dropped her hands to her side, and the petals brushed against her thigh.
“So kind of you to allow your ward a sweet tea break,” he said after a long sip. His profile of his lips against the glass could start a whole new ad campaign for tea.
“We’re in the South,” Amelia said with a frown. “It’s just tea.”
“My sister-in-law says the same thing.”
“Who?” Of course he came from a family; the man wasn’t truly sculpted and created by God and placed on earth to torment women.
“Well, future sister-in-law?” Nate took another long sip. “Any day now my brother is going to propose.”
Amelia’s spine stiffened with the memory of why she had mandatory vacation time. “Did your brother have to get a ring back from Natalia?”
“Cute.” Nate squinted his green eyes toward her. Under the cover of the porch’s roof, their color darkened. She wondered who he inherited them from. Light brown or hazel eyes ran in her family but had skipped her. “If you don’t know the story, you’re getting nada from me. And don’t assume all men fall for Natalia.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not all guys go for the glamour.” Nate stepped forward to close the gap between them. He braced his empty hand against the pillar right over her head. “Some guys like a woman who doesn’t need all the makeup and lashes.”
Conscious of her lack of face paint, Amelia tucked a stray hair behind her ear, forgetting the flower in her hand. Nate reached down and helped her with the stem, then tucked it behind her ear. A breeze blew into the narrow space between them, pushing her Alabama T-shirt away from her bare breasts. Had she been in the spotlight of one of her shows, a camera would have panned in on the way her nipples hardened. God forbid if Nate thought he was the cause.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Amelia asked.
“I thought we were having a moment.” Nate dropped his hand to his side. “No?”
“We had our moment.”
Amelia straightened her lips and prayed her eyes did not give away h
ow much she wanted him to kiss her right now. They had thirty-seven more hours left together and she wanted to make the most of this time together. Any man who carried around a spare change of clothes in the trunk of his car was not the commitment type. Forty hours might be his longest relationship. A wasp in the corner of the ceiling caught her attention. His eyes followed hers, then tore away from the nest. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Are we on hidden camera?” Nate asked.
Eyes narrowing, Amelia’s upper lip curled on the left side. “What?”
“You’re in the reality TV business,” he said as if that explained everything.
“Was.” Amelia inhaled and glanced around at the blue hydrangeas blooming. Her arms folded under her breast, creating distance—again. Why did Nate always seem to corner her off? She could move, but he was the one who brought his behind over here.