His Southern Sweetheart

During the wedding, she took a quiet seat in the back pew away from prying eyes. As nice as Emily and Sam were for extending an olive branch to her, Amelia did not trust the elders who had been affected by her exposé on the peach tree famers to not have something negative to say during the wedding.

Amelia didn’t get another chance to enjoy Nate’s touch until after the vows were sealed with a kiss and the wedding party was on its way to where the reception started. The reception was held in Down Park, the area connecting all four bordering counties. A white gazebo shaded the guests from the grueling late-summer heat and any threat of rain. Guests sat on white wooden folding chairs at the twelve-top royal-purple-and-cream themed tables. Everyone who was anyone was attending the event. Apart from Brittany Foley, Amelia did not receive the hate she expected. The bridesmaid shot as many daggers as she possibly could at Amelia during the wedding but Amelia didn’t care. She was on cloud nine, dancing with Nate.

“For the record,” Nate said as he twirled Amelia around, “the girls adore you.”

Amelia glanced over at the table where Kimber, Nate’s sixteen-year-old niece, sat under the watchful eye of Stephen Reyes, having turned down an offer to dance with one of the boys in attendance. “Is she shy?”

“No,” Nate scoffed, “she’s just grounded.”

“For how long?”

Nate shrugged his shoulders. “How long before the end of time?”

Amelia winced for the girl and understood her pain. “Poor kid.”

“Poor kid? My brother had a full head of hair before we moved here.”

“What?”

“Joking.” Nate winked and tightened his grip around her waist. “How long before we can leave here?”

“They haven’t even cut the cake, Nate.” Though she wanted to be the mature one in this scenario, Amelia knew her desire mirrored his. How did a suit make a man so sexy? It didn’t matter what Nate wore: a pair of denims with no shirt and the sweat off his back, or a dark, tailored suit. She inhaled deeply. She’d already missed the county fair, which was always held at the beginning of the summer, but she pictured him in a nice green sweater to match his eyes in the winter months or even an orange shirt for pumpkin patch season. The farmers were probably tending feverishly to their crops now, given that Halloween wasn’t too far away from here. Hell, September was a few days away. And then what? She’d report back to work? Maybe she could stay at least through next month.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said. More than fine, she thought, with a new plan in mind now. She’d give Rory Montgomery a call later on this weekend and let her know.

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Nate realized bringing a date to a wedding was not complicated at all. For once he liked the feeling of being in a secluded relationship. Is that what they were? Secluded? The idea brought a smile to his face.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” said an elderly gentleman stepping up to the bar next to Nate.

“Nothing but tonic water for me,” Nate said, raising his glass, and turned. His grin widened at the sight of Enzo Gravel, Kimber and Philly’s grandfather. Earlier this year Betty’s parents had made the heartbreaking decision not to file for custody of their granddaughters. Nate’s brother, Ken, had made the arrangements for Stephen and Nate to be the girls’ guardians after each birth. No one expected Ken and Betty to die, but Nate and Stephen had the courts on their side. Enzo and his wife, Jeanette, admitted they were too old to run after the younger girls. They’d had Betty in their midforties and were pushing the seventies when their first grandchild was born. Now in their eighties they did what most grandparents did and spoiled their kids every chance they had with them, without having the responsibility of disciplining them.

“Hey, man.” Nate extended his hand. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Ah, that must be the young lady you’ve been dancing with the whole evening?” He gave Nate a firm handshake. The kind of shake his father, Esteban, had taught him. “Who is the lucky lady?”

“Amelia Marlow.”

Enzo tapped the white goatee on the chin of his mahogany face. “Where do I know the name?”

“You may remember her. Her parents owned—”

“The Scoop, an ice-cream parlor off Main Street. Yes, I remember Amelia. Inquisitive young lady.”

His choice in words caused Nate to chuckle, especially as he recalled the way she always tried different angles of getting to the truth about Stephen’s meeting with Natalia. Nate had stood firm on his word. If Natalia wanted to share with Amelia that she was ready to leave the business, then it was Natalia’s story to tell. Nate loved Amelia, but not enough to betray his friends and family. Wait—love?

“Amelia did the city a whole lot of good,” Enzo went on. “Although what a shame she didn’t stick around to see what good she did.”

Over many of their conversations, Amelia often chalked her reason for not wanting to return to Southwood up to everyone here hating her. So far, except Brittany for obvious reasons, everyone seemed to be so friendly. She’d never said why she felt they hated her, other than they did. Nate took a swig of his water as Enzo went on.

“Amelia was investigating the issue of how migrant workers were treated in Peachville. Initially, her high-school report ruffled a lot of feathers.”

“Why?”

“This is Georgia, son. The peach tree is our everything. If I’m not mistaken, the initial findings halted the harvesting and put a lot of businesses in the red, including her family’s shop.” Enzo closed his eyes and let out a sigh of nostalgia. “Man, what I wouldn’t do for a scoop of her father’s fresh peach ice cream.”