His Southern Sweetheart (8 page)

Amelia settled back against the black leather booth. “You're supposed to be nervous?”

“Who wouldn't be?” Nate relaxed in his seat. “You breeze into town and drop a wad of cash on me just to make me do work for what you could have hired someone else to do, and much more cheaply, too.”

The little flower in the center of her white spaghetti-strap top rose up and down. Even through the flicker of the flame bouncing off the deep maroon glass candle holder, he caught the way her cheeks turned pink.

“Let's say I don't trust anyone around town to do the work for me.”

He stopped himself from mentioning Parker's name. The man seemed too eager to spend time with Amelia. Clearly, the two of them had history together.

“So you work on a reality show directing all kinds of odd jobs.” Nate shrugged and cleared his throat to get the thought of Parker out of his mind. What mattered was that Amelia had declined Parker's offer and accepted his. “Couldn't anyone else do the work?”

The frown disappeared and Amelia glanced around the room. Her teeth captured the bottom corner of her lip. “I am not allowed to contact any of the folks from the shows I produced.”

“You're the producer.” Nate leaned forward. “That explains the cash flow.”

“Was,” Amelia clarified, twisting her lips to the side—her reminder that she'd been fired because of him. Nate bowed his head in apology. “And I was a producer, but not in the sense most people think.”

“I'm not most people.” Nate wiggled his brows.

“I was a field producer, which meant I oversaw a lot of the production. I traveled with at least a dozen guys to keep up with the Ruiz crew, depending on what they had going on during the day.” Amelia paused for a moment when the waiter approached with their sodas and a notepad ready, to take their order.

Now raising two kids, Nate rarely ever got to order a pizza with more than pepperoni or cheese on top. They both thought the Supreme sounded delicious.
Kismet yet?
Probably not, but he did find her desirable when she asked if he'd be okay with a deep dish. The waiter disappeared into the kitchen.

Nate reached across the table and captured her hand. His thumb stroked small circles on the bones of the back of her hand. “You were saying?”

“About the pizza?”

“About being a big-time producer.”

Amelia's eyes lit up with excitement. “Field producer.”

Nate chuckled and inclined his head. “Okay, what is a field producer?”

Long lashes fanned against her high cheekbones as she contemplated her answer. Her cinnamon-kissed skin glowed in the light of the camera. A blush shone across her high cheekbones. “What's your favorite reality TV show?”

“Don't have one.” Nate rested his arms on the table.

Amelia cocked her head to the side and spoke slowly. “Because you have so many?”

“Because I don't watch them.”

Amelia's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward as if she didn't hear correctly. “Pardon me?”

“I don't watch reality shows.” Nate's shoulders rose up and down, shrugging as she sat across from him clutching her heart and dramatically feigning being wounded. “I live with my two nieces, and if a show has to bleep out every other word because women are fighting or tearing each other down, it's not worth watching.”

“All right.” Amelia nodded. “I can understand to an extent. But what about
Azúcar
?”

A tremble threatened to lift his upper lip. “What about it?”

“It is the first crossover American reality show with a predominately Puerto Rican cast. It's my number one project for MET Studios.”

“Hey, that's fantastic.” Nate tried not to come off sarcastic. “But to me, the Puerto Rican
cast
is plain old regular folk.”

“Of course,” Amelia groaned and hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I forgot how close you and Natalia are. Exactly why did Stephen and Natalia meet up?”

“I'm afraid if Natalia did not tell you the nature of the meeting,” Nate said with a sigh, “then it's not my place to tell. I will say I've known her family for years and I know for a fact they're headed by an egotistical woman named Yadira who sees nothing but dollar signs when it comes to her nieces and nephew.”

“Aunt Yadira isn't so bad.”

Nate studied Amelia's face as she spoke. Her bottom lip twitched and she glanced away for a second. No one got along with Yadira Ruiz. “Because she's the one padding your pockets,” Nate grumbled.

“MET Studios pays my salary,” Amelia snapped, “or they did.”

The animosity in her voice came in loud and clear. He wanted to hang his head in shame knowing he was the reason she'd lost her job, but she needed to look on the bright side. He'd done her a favor. “The studio is a platform for money and greed.”

Amelia sat back, tight-lipped. Her dark brown eyes glanced up to each corner of the ceiling. The huff of breath blew a stray strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her eyes.

“Are you looking around for cameras?”

“No.” She sighed. “I'm looking around for places I'd put a camera if I wanted to create a show.”

“Habit of yours?” Not sure if he preferred her avoiding eye contact with him or taking the icy glare she gave him now, Nate wiggled his brows.

The bells over the door jingled. The young girl behind the counter shouted out for the new guests to have a seat wherever and let them know someone would be with them in a moment. Meanwhile, the door to the kitchen swung open and a waiter came out with a pizza for another couple. Nate watched Amelia, who'd gone back to observing the restaurant.

“I like to come up with different ideas for shows,” Amelia finally answered him, resting her elbows on the table. Out of habit with Philly, Nate moved Amelia's glass of soda out of the way. “It relaxes me. How long have you lived with your nieces?”

“About eight months.”

Amelia nodded as if she already knew but tested him. “How old are they?”

“Sixteen and five,” he answered.

“How are they doing?” Amelia spread her fingers flat on the table, almost touching his, but as if she was too afraid to make a move.

Nate half smiled. “They're fine. Better than I was when I heard the news.”

“It's so noble of you to take care of them.”

Nate placed his hands over hers again. “I can honestly say they're the ones taking care of me. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Not really.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “I mean, I have bunch of cousins. One is like a sister to me. Cayla, well, we call her Cay. She was with me last night when I...”

“Staked your claim on me?” Nate chuckled. She tried to withdraw her hands but he held on tightly. “Stop pulling away. I'm not going to hurt you.”

“But—” Amelia raised her left brow and offered him a challenging smile “—I don't want to get burned.”

Had they not been in a public place, Nate just might have pushed the salt, red pepper and parmesan cheese shakers to the ground and lifted her onto the table.
Hurt her?
He wanted to protect her, cherish her and even worship her body. That was not too complicated, right? “Amelia, you're going to have to learn to trust me. I understand we got off to a rocky start yesterday.”

“Because you set me up?”

Nate nodded. “If you want to view it that way, okay. But despite why I needed to see you, understand I wanted to be with you the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm not going to hurt you. Do you believe that, Amelia?” Was he pleading with her? When had he started pleading with women? Each second she took to answer caused a notch of strange insecurity in him. “Do you believe you won't get burned with me?”

“At the moment.” Amelia shook her head back and forth.

Dying to know what she meant, Nate leaned forward. Did she believe he'd burn her? Didn't she understand how much he wanted to be with her? “Tell me what I need to do to get back in your good graces?”

“What are you talking about?” Amelia yanked her hand away before he could protest. “I'm talking about the pizza.”

“What?” Nate felt his brows furrow.

“Pay attention, the pizza's here.”

Chapter 6

W
ith the pizza stand between the two of them empty, Amelia sighed at the thought of their evening ending. Tonight was the first time she'd gone out with no one or nothing hounding her, not her work or her past. Nate made an irresistible dining partner. His humor kept her from jumping every time a car passed by the windows or the bell chimed when the door opened. The last thing she wanted to do was be spotted by someone in town. She wanted a smooth in-and-out when it came time to leave.

“You have to have dessert here,” Nate suggested, polishing off the last morsel of pizza crust before wiping his hands on the napkin in his lap.

Unlike most women she knew, Amelia did not act shy when it came to eating in front of a man. The pizza had been layered so beautifully, with fresh mozzarella, paper-thin prosciutto, crispy pepperoni and some of the freshest vegetables around. When their pie arrived, she'd vowed to eat the whole thing, but the buttery parmesan crust had fooled her and she only managed three slices. Dessert seemed out of the question.

“They have the best
affogato
.”

“Gelato or ice cream?” Amelia perked up.

Nate's lips pursed together. “You know your desserts?”

“I know my frozen desserts,” she replied with a nod. “My folks used to own an ice-cream parlor downtown.” A part of her wondered why she'd told him. She hated talking about being from Southwood.

“No kidding?”

“I promise.” Amelia crossed her heart with her forefinger and raised her other hand in the air. “The Scoop, off Main Street.”

“Original.” His nod of approval caused her to beam. “Did your folks retire?”

“They live in the California mountain area of Little Tujunga now,” she said, sitting back. Their waiter came over to clear the table and take their dessert order. Having a combination of gelato and coffee didn't sound like it would help her get any sleep tonight and she'd already tossed and turned last night, no thanks to Nate.

Now with a clean table, Nate reached across and held out his hands for her to take. For some strange reason, she did. “Do you get to see your parents often?”

“Good God, no.”

“Why do you make it sound crazy?”

“How often do you see your folks?” she countered.

“I saw them for the Fourth of July and I'll see them Labor Day weekend for the Crystal Coquí.”

“The what?”

The way Nate shrugged his shoulders, she thought he might be playing down this event. “It's a banquet my family puts on once a year to honor the big business contributors to the community.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“Tux-and-evening-gown fancy,” Nate confirmed. “It is embarrassing.”

“Wearing one?”

“The event.” The corners of Nate's eyes crinkled. Amelia's stomach did a flip, but she contributed it to the massive heap of whipped cream on the dessert bowl the waiter placed in front of her.

“We should have ordered a small one to share,” said Amelia.

“I'm greedy.” Nate swiped his spoon across the chocolate shavings on his dessert. “I don't share.”

A familiar pang of desire that tugged inside her stomach had her somehow wishing he wasn't talking about the dessert. “You don't have an ounce of fat. I don't know how or when I'm going to work all of this off.”

“I'll help you.” Nate's eyes now narrowed on her. This time she understood he wasn't talking about the dessert.

Amelia cleared her throat, hoping to keep the heat of the threatening blush from being exposed. “Tell me more about this Crystal Coquí. Why is it embarrassing?”

“I used to think it was more of a way for my family to feel better about themselves.”

“Better?” Amelia's inquisitive nature was piqued. Natalia mentioned Nate came from a good family.

“Ah, it's probably my pops talking.” He shook his head as if to get the notion out of his mind. Amelia leaned forward, literally on the edge of her seat. She wanted to learn everything about this man. Lord only knew when she'd get a chance to be around someone not in the business again.

“Tell me.”

“My dad, Esteban Reyes,” Nate began after one big bite, “he always felt he needed to compete with my mom's family, the Torreses.”

“Compete how?”

“I guess when you marry into the family whose ancestors discovered the island, there is a bit a pressure.”

“Your family
founded
a city?”

By the time Nate finished telling the story about the claim his grandfather many times over had staked on the island, located off the northwest coast of Florida, from the famous explorer Tristán de Luna y Arellano, Amelia was in awe.

The young explorer had tried to establish the Pensacola Bay area but was not successful. Hurricanes defeated many of the ships trying to enter the bay. And when another conquistador, Ángel de Villafañe, came and offered to take the settlers to Cuba, Vincente Torres and a few others stayed behind and were offered the opportunity to stake their claim in any part of land they felt they could tame. Vincente Torres inhabited the island, not far off the coast of Pensacola, and his descendants had already brought over several family members by the time Spain officially founded Pensacola in 1698.

Where the explorer failed, Vincente Torres managed to maintain the island, which had reminded him so much of his beloved city on the nearby island, and would become Puerto Rico; hence the namesake, Villa San Juan. In 1845, Florida became an official state. With Villa San Juan being a part of Florida, all inhabitants became American citizens.

“The wheels in your head are spinning,” Nate said with a chuckle.

“Your home sounds fascinating.”

He shrugged modestly. “It's a small town, just like Southwood.”

Amelia frowned. “There's no history here. Your family
founded
a city.”

“Perhaps, but everyone wants a piece of the Torres family, their wealth and their rum. At least in Southwood, everyone comes together as a community. Take the bachelor auction.”

The townsfolk of Southwood did come together, even when running a family out
, she thought. “Whatever. Didn't your community come together over a school shooting?”

The prideful gleam in Nate's green eyes from when he'd spoken a moment ago disappeared. The thickness of his eyebrows hooded his orbs. A chill ran down Amelia's spine.

“The shooting took place a long time ago. We've all gotten on with our lives.”

“Did you know the shooter?”

Nate poured a spoonful of coffee over his gelato, then set it against the ring with a clink. He blew out a sigh—the familiar sound indicating he did not want to talk about what happened.

“Did you leave town because of that?” Amelia inhaled deeply, then pressed her lips together. During confessionals on her reality sets, she always asked the hard questions—the thought-provoking questions, even the emotionally charged questions—and never felt any qualms over doing it.

“Tell me why you left Southwood.” Nate turned the conversation back on to her. The deep chuckle eased her mind. “What do you have against it?”

“Where do I start?” Before Amelia got the chance to rattle off a long list, a figure approached their table. Amelia stiffened at the memory of the familiar face.

“It has been killing me all night long,” the tall, slender woman said with a friendly smile. “Amelia Marlow, right?”

“Emily Keaton,” Amelia acknowledged coolly with a tight-lipped nod. She braced herself for confrontation, squaring her shoulders and sitting back against the vinyl of the booth. What she wasn't prepared for was for the former head cheerleader to bend over and embrace Amelia in a friendly hug. The last time she'd seen the girl, she was making a cheer about Amelia leaving town. Not sure what to do, Amelia patted Emily's back. Over the garlic and fresh bread, Emily smelled like a bouquet of flowers. “Hello.”

“What are you doing in town?”

“Family business,” Amelia said.

Emily tucked behind her ear a black strand of hair that had come loose when she bent over for a hug. “Please say you'll be in town until Saturday. I'm getting married at the Methodist Church. I'd love for you to come.”

“You can't be serious.” Amelia jumped when a foot connected with her shin. “Ouch.” She glared angrily across the table, only to find an unapologetic smile across Nate's face.

At Amelia's pain Emily turned her attention to Nate. “Oh,” she hummed knowingly.

“Emily, this is Nate Reyes.” Amelia made introductions.

Instead of extending her hand for a firm shake, Emily leaned over and hugged Nate's shoulders. Of course they knew each other. Was there any woman in town who didn't know Nate?

“Hey, Nate,” Emily cooed. “You have to promise me you won't tell Lexi you saw me in here scarfing down some pizza. She'll kill me if I go up a dress size after my final fitting.”

Nate cast a glance in Amelia's direction. “I can honestly say my eyes have been on one person all evening.” He offered a wink in Amelia's direction. The heat of desire boiled in the pit of her stomach. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank God!” Emily turned her attention back to Amelia. “So you'll definitely come now, right? With Nate, he's already going to come, so it'll be fun.”

“Yes, come,” said Nate with a deep baritone voice. “It will be fun.”

The table in the back of the restaurant, the dimly lit candle, the decadent dessert—it dawned on Amelia this situation might be taken the wrong way. Emily thought they were here as a couple. Amelia shook her head quickly from side to side. “Oh, no, this isn't what you think.”

Nate reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “Not sure if you heard the story, but Amelia was the highest bidder at last night's bachelor auction.”

“Aw,” was all Emily said.

Paranoid, Amelia wondered what the “aw” was about. Did Emily find it pathetic that Amelia bought Nate? Did she think the only way she'd get a date was by purchasing one? Amelia surrounded herself on a daily basis with gorgeous, hot men. Hell, after ten years of avoidance, Parker seemed overly eager to spend some time with her. Who wouldn't want to be around her? She was smart, successful, creative and ambitious. And if she did say so, she was pretty damn good-looking, as well.
So why did it bother her what Emily thought?

“Well, I finally have the name of your plus-one, Nate,” Emily said. “I can't believe you're really here, Amelia. We have so much to catch up on.”

No, we don't
, Amelia thought. “Again, I'm not one hundred percent sure I'll be here by Saturday.”

“If you can't make my wedding,” Emily said, placing a hand on Amelia's shoulder, “you should at least come to my bachelorette party Friday night. I have a bridal shower during the day, which of course you are welcome to attend. Mama's throwing it, so I cannot say for sure how boring it will be.”

The way Emily went on, it was as if she'd forgotten all the drama Amelia had caused with her article. She would have sworn she'd been transported back twenty years and received the itinerary for a sleepover. Amelia wasn't sure if she needed to grab a shovel for this BS or a shovel to dig her own grave if she agreed to attend any of the events.

Not getting her answer, Emily reached down and gave one last hug before excusing herself. “Just think about it. I'm in the book.”

“You look shocked,” Nate said when they were alone again.

“That Southwood still has phone books?” Amelia commented before picking up her dessert spoon.

“Cute, but you know what I meant. Let's get back to what we were saying before Emily came over here.”

“What?” She played innocent, batting her lashes at him.

Nate cleared his throat. “Oh, I believe you were about to rattle off all the problems with Southwood.”

Thanks to Emily and all her chatter, the gelato had melted into the coffee. Amelia spooned another bite of the now-extra-sweet coffee. Aware he watched her lips, she curled them over the spoon and licked it clean. “I have my reasons.”

“Sure, because everyone is so horrible here? The nerve,” he scoffed, “of Emily coming over here and inviting you to her wedding. I can't believe her audacity to invite you to her bachelorette party.” Then to make matters worse, Nate sat back in the booth, folded his arms across his chest and pretended to mope.

Weeks after the article, her friends were no longer hanging out with her. Invites to graduation parties were rescinded. Amelia didn't expect Nate to understand the misery a teenage girl felt when she was abandoned by her closest pals. So Amelia did the only thing she could think of and threw the rest of her dessert square in the center of his chest before getting up and leaving.

* * *

“You didn't have to drive me to the hospital.” Amelia took Nate's gentlemanly hand and allowed him to help her out of the passenger side of his SUV. This was the first they'd spoken since she left him at the table last night. His hooded green eyes dared her to defy the offer of his opened door when she stepped foot onto the porch.

Yesterday afternoon, after she'd listened to the despair in the nurse's voice, Amelia had made plans to see the medical staff and apologize on behalf of her grandmother. When she'd come down from her shower this morning, Nate was in his suit from Saturday night, wrinkled and disheveled. A part of her was surprised to see him turn his SUV into the driveway last night.

As mad as she was at him, she was grateful he'd interrupted an awkward goodbye. With the pizzeria across the street from the fire station, she couldn't help but go over and ask for a ride. Parker, as he'd been when they were teenagers, had been all too willing to come to her aid. Just as they had on her porch earlier, he lingered again for a while, apparently wanting to say a lot more. Amelia's life now did not include having a small-town boyfriend, and having to tell him so again would be just as heartbreaking now as it had been then. Nate's lights in the rearview mirror had saved her from Parker asking her out again.