His Southern Sweetheart

Between the opening of the kitchen and the stairs, the grandfather clock ticked away. If she were working, she would have been up before the crack of dawn, prepping her camera crew about what she wanted filmed. Sleeping in was not a luxury she could afford. She wondered what Natalia was up to or if she was getting along with William. Rory hadn’t called to give her an update and the restriction on contact worked both ways. No one was to call her. She hadn’t even heard her phone ring once.

Thinking of her phone, Amelia reached for hers off the square glass coffee table. She pressed the buttons for the screen saver to come to life. The half beat of the light flipped on, then turned off. She caught a quick glimpse of the problem. She needed to charge her phone; if only she remembered where she placed her bag with her charger.

Amelia peeled herself away from Nate’s grip with a bit of ease. As she rolled over onto the white carpet, she went on her hands and knees, careful not to wake him. Thankfully the black leggings and the off-shoulder red Alabama shirt in which she’d fallen asleep absorbed the irritating material of Grandmamma’s carpet. Nate shifted with a snort and his right hand sought the comfort of her body. Amelia reached up and grabbed one of the fluffy throw pillows braced against the back of the couch and slipped it under his hand. A pout tugged at the corners of her lips when the plump material seemed to satisfy Nate. His steady snore continued.

Jealous of a pillow? Disgusted with herself, Amelia headed off down the hall beyond the steps, toward the area now designated for the new study. They’d set up the room with a desktop computer; on the beige wall, Nate had hung one of the flat-screen televisions they’d found elsewhere in the house. A small leather couch folded out in one corner. Maybe this Christmas everyone would gather here for the holidays. Amelia stopped in her tracks. Since when did she think about coming here—period?

Just because Emily was courteous to her did not mean she was welcome back into the fold of Southwood society. Not like she wanted to be welcomed back. Amelia opened some of the drawers in hopes of finding a charger. She then headed into her grandmamma’s new room looking for a charger. She didn’t want to run up the stairs unless she had to. Since her episode in the car with Nate, Amelia doubted her legs would take the unnecessary stretching of the steps.

Hopefully Grandmamma wouldn’t yell at her for searching her drawers. Nate had suggested they move the drawers down individually but clearly he did not understand how picky Grandmamma was. So completing the backbreaking task worked out better than being killed by Grandmamma for allowing a man to see her personals. Before she even delved into the big dresser drawers, Amelia sat on the edge of Grandmamma’s queen-size bed. When she and her parents had come to live here, Amelia remembered sitting there getting life lessons. Of course, now Amelia realized Grandmamma’s life lessons were more warnings about how to treat others and how she expected to be treated. Nothing stuck.

Sighing, Amelia reached for the drawer of the nightstand. Expectedly, she found a Bible. This was the same Bible her grandmother carried to church every Sunday. The cover was worn, the pages frail and filled with yellow highlighter marks. A faint trace of Chanel No. 5 rose from it. Amelia smiled and reached around in the drawer for anything feeling remotely like a cord. Some form of plastic scratched her fingertips. Amelia pulled her hand back to investigate the culprit. What she found caused her to jump off the bed. Condoms! She glanced down briefly and remembered this dresser used to be in her bedroom upstairs. Were these her condoms from years ago?

“Kill me,” Amelia groaned, shoving them to the back of the drawer.

“Everything okay?”

Amelia spun around and died a few more deaths at the sight of Nate’s bare chest again, leaning against the doorjamb. How did one really say what she found? That she was having sex in high school in her grandmother’s house? If her father didn’t exist, Amelia would have been positive her grandmamma had never had sex in here. Now either she didn’t know what the condoms were for or she left them in the drawer to one day fall down the steps, knowing Amelia would be the one to come here and move things around. Sure, the latter seemed more outrageous, but Amelia worked in reality TV; she knew crazy.

“Oh, nothing,” Amelia said sweetly, plastering a smile across her face. Her eyes traveled to the V stemming from the muscles of his stomach.

“Were you looking for something?”

In attempt to nod her head and shake it at the same time, Amelia ended up rotating her head in a circular motion. “Um, yes, but never mind. Good morning, did I wake you?”

“Yes, when you left my side.” Nate crossed his arms. The tribal tattoo seemed to ripple across his arm and chest. “Did my snoring wake you?”

“No, I’m used to waking up this early.”

Nate’s eyes widened. “This is early for you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s almost eleven,” he smirked.

Amelia widened her eyes the same way he had. “You’re kidding me.”

He reached into the front of his jeans for his cell phone and swiped the screen. Besides the time, the first thing she noticed was the photograph of two adorable girls in a selfie pose with Nate. “Your nieces?”

“Kimber and Philly,” Nate said proudly. “They’re in school now, or should be, provided my brother got up in time.” She must have squinted her eyes because Nate nodded his head and took her by the hand. “Trust me, it’s happened in the past. Let’s get some coffee in us and then we’ll head over to Grits and Glam Gowns.”

Amelia sat at the kitchen table and watched Nate make his way around the room. She toyed with the vase holding the long-stemmed daisies he’d brought her yesterday. Will she ever be able to look at daisies again without thinking of him? Inhaling deeply, Amelia focused on Nate’s backside. He was comfortable in here. He might as well be; he’d nearly set it on fire and then cleaned every spot like a professional. There was no trace of smoke at all. Grandmamma would never know what happened, let alone that someone else tried cooking in her kitchen. God, how the old woman complained whenever Amelia’s mother tried to help out and prepare a meal, Amelia thought bitterly. When the coffee finished percolating, Nate poured them each a mug and joined her at the table.

“So when you’re not sleeping in until eleven,” Nate asked, “what time do you normally get up?”

“It depends.” Amelia shrugged her shoulders. “If I’m working as a field producer, the perfume ad for the Ruizes kept me pretty busy since we were filming out on location. The ads for the perfume were going to be shown on an upcoming episode. I’d have to film every moment of their lives, including getting into their rooms before they woke up.”

“Sounds boring.”

“To most,” said Amelia, “it might. But I campaigned to be on their show. Their storyline is incredible and not one typical in the realm of reality shows.”

“Because they’re not simply beautiful people, but also business folks, as well?” he asked and immediately explained. “Turns out the sixteen-year-old watches your show and she loves them.”

“Well, you have to love the Ruizes,” said Amelia.

Nate propped his elbows on the table. “No, I don’t. I know them, remember?”

“Oh, yes,” Amelia said, grinning sheepishly. “You were going to tell me why your brother and Natalia were meeting that night.”