His Southern Sweetheart

“May I be excused now?” asked Kimber.

“Are you finished with your tea?” Nate asked with a lopsided grin. He leaned forward to peer into his oldest niece’s cup, which she angled toward him with another eye roll.

“You didn’t finish your cookies.” Philly pointed out the stack of burnt premade desserts the woman in the grocery store had promised would be easy to make.

Nate cleared his throat and nodded his head toward the cookies. Kimber’s mouth widened with disbelief.

“This is beyond punishment,” Kimber mumbled. “This is cruel and unusual.”

Burning the cookies had totally been his fault. His mind had been elsewhere—in Atlanta and on the sexy producer who’d fled the minute she had the chance. Of course, finding her wouldn’t be hard. He knew Natalia Ruiz personally and if he didn’t his media connections at MET would have come in handy.

Nate’s mind breezed over Amelia once again. Tomorrow would make a week since being with her and she still hadn’t gotten out of his system. The original plan in Atlanta had been to distract her at the bar, buy her a drink or something in order for Stephen to speak with a potential client. Taking her to bed the same night—well, those were the perks of being a great wingman.

A set of keys jingled at the front door and automatically Philly’s face lit up with excitement. A deep “aha” came from Stephen Reyes at the bar separating the dining room and kitchen. He entered; the front door slammed shut and moments later in walked the future Mrs. Stephen Reyes, Lexi Pendergrass, who shook her head in preparation at the banter.

“I expected you to teach them how to gamble,” said Stephen, standing at the bar and staring into the breakfast nook in a two-piece gray suit with a gray-and-blue paisley tie loosened at the throat, “but a tea party?”

“C’mon, bruh, you know when a five-year-old asks you to play tea party, you damn well better play tea party.”

“Oooh,” Kimber and Philly chorused.

“Go ahead and put your cash in the swear jar,” ordered Lexi.

For a split second Nate scowled in Lexi’s direction as she pulled Philly’s chair away from the table. Thanks to the rule Lexi had installed in her pageant dress shop, the swear jar had now made its way to the marble kitchen counter. Nate stood and stepped over his mini chair. Stephen followed him into the kitchen as if to make sure Nate extracted a dollar for the jar. So far they had enough money to take a trip down to Puerto Rico.

“I expected more from you,” Stephen pretended to scold.

“Really?” Nate raised a brow. “You expected more even after asking me for a favor last week?” Albeit, Stephen never asked Nate to go such the distance.

Screwing the top back on the jar he replaced it back on the counter before reaching into the fridge for a cold beer. Lexi appeared in the doorway with Philly on her hip and let out a low whistle. “Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Stephen and Nate chorused.

“Sounds like my cue to leave.” Kimber pushed away from the small table. “Uncle Stephen?”

Stephen made an elaborate show of ignoring his niece and keeping his focus straight ahead on Nate, who bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Kimber had Stephen wrapped around her finger.

Sucking her teeth, Kimber remembered. “Tío Stephen?”

“Yes, darling?”

Nate refused to be putty in Kimber’s hand and wasn’t remotely fooled by the sugary tone in her voice. He gave her the props for having the nerve to sweet-talk Stephen after all the scheming she’d done this summer. Recently, Kimber thought she could get away with the bait-and-switch boyfriend trick, saying she was dating an overly studious classmate instead of a football player jock, for fear they wouldn’t approve. They didn’t at first, but Nate and Stephen were growing fond of Philip. On top of the boyfriend issue, Kimber stole a racy dress from Lexi’s Grits and Glam Gowns boutique in order to impress the jock. He already knew what Kimber was going to ask. Stephen may have laid down the law, but Nate made sure she followed it.

“Am I still grounded?”

“Yes.”

Kimber grunted and balled up her fists as she spun around to stomp up the kitchen steps. The glass patio door leading out to the pool shook. Only when Kimber’s door slammed shut did Nate and Stephen start to laugh.

“That’s your niece,” said Stephen as he shook his head.

“Oh, sure.” Nate sighed. “When they’re good, they’re your nieces, but when they’re bad, they’re mine. This is the thanks I get for staying home with them all day long cooking and cleaning?”

Stephen turned and faced Lexi. “Here we go.”

“Look, I am the one getting the kids ready for school, making sure they have their breakfast—”

“Is your cooking really a selling point?” asked Stephen.

Nate restrained the urge to flip his brother the middle finger. “Let’s not forget all the back-to-school forms I’ve been filling out all day long. I swear I provided this same information back in January. We have two kids in the school system. Why can’t there be one form online for them? My damn hand hurts.”

“Well.” Lexi chuckled. “Good luck trying to reform Southwood. In the meantime, I’m going to put our beauty queen to bed. Tomorrow, Nate, you and I can get a mani-pedi. Sound good?”

“Funny,” Nate said, realizing being a third wheel was becoming a nuisance.

“You may want to take her up on her offer, Nate,” said Stephen. “Do something together tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Thursday. I’ve got to take the girls school shopping so I’m not fighting the crowds who also waited until the last minute.”

“I can do it,” offered Lexi. She gave Stephen a wink and Nate rolled his eyes. The main reason the two of them had first met was because Stephen had jumped the gun over the racy dress Kimber wore. He assumed when Kimber said she got the dress from Lexi’s boutique that Lexi had sold it to her. “You guys discuss it. The queen and I are going upstairs.”

As Lexi passed by Stephen, he reached out and swatted her behind. “Later, I get to put my beauty queen to bed.”

Nate pretended to gag. Stephen did not show as much constraint with flipping him off. “Domestic life looks good on you, bruh,” Nate teased, passing through the kitchen to the open French doors to the dining room. He sat down at the large maple table.

“Thanks. You ought to try it someday.”

The image of a pair of copper-hued legs wrapping around his waist entered his mind. “One day.”

“So for now you’re still on the market?”

Nate did not like the tone in his brother’s voice. They might not be twins, but Nate understood how Stephen’s mind worked. First he’d try to talk about how something was a great idea and the next thing Nate knew, he’d be volunteering to do his bidding. Nate already knew the stakes.

Earlier today at the grocery store, a few of the ladies he lunched with after church had asked if he planned on doing the fall bachelor auction Saturday night. Proceeds from the benefit went toward supplies for the local schools in four counties, affectionately referred to as Four Points. This fall marked the first time his nieces started school without their parents. The kids had adjusted to their new life and Nate liked to take the credit for their stability.

He also saw himself as the charitable type in most cases, but something about being on stage and having women bid on him frightened him. Since being here the last few months, he’d been the shiny new toy all the single ladies—and not all single—wanted to play with. The last thing he wanted was for any of these Southern belles to have to expose themselves by making a spectacle while bidding on him. Lord knew these ladies were not quite proper behind closed doors.

“Slow your roll,” Nate half grinned. “I know where you’re going with this.”

“Then you’ll understand the money you’ll bring in will go toward the school.”

“And time,” Nate added. “This auction offers up services of forty hours of my time. God only knows what will be expected of me if certain people bid on me.”

“So you’ll fix things here and there,” said Stephen. “Business is slow and it’s only forty hours. I am sure I can handle things.”

Nate didn’t have much to do besides refurnishing Lexi’s shop, which she was in no rush to open. He took a seat. “I’ve been in town a lot longer than you. All of a sudden you care?”

“If I plan on staying here and raising my family,” Stephen said with a sly smile.

“Are you trying to tell me Lexi’s pregnant?” Nate asked, leaning forward and widening his eyes. He lowered his voice in case Lexi could hear from upstairs in Philly’s room. “You sly old dog.”

“No.” Stephen frowned, then shook his bald head back and forth. “I am talking about the future. Our future.”

Prior to Ken and Betty passing away, Nate had worked alongside his brothers in a lucrative real estate and contracting business based in California. They provided the perfect homes and locations for Hollywood directors to film movie scenes. When Ken met his wife and started their family, he moved to Betty’s hometown in Southwood, Georgia. Nate and Stephen, wanting to be near their brother, then moved Reyes Realty and Contracting closer without actually being in Southwood. Atlanta, a rising home for television and film, was a perfect location. When Ken passed away, they realized that, in order to better care for their nieces, they had to commit to moving to Southwood.

“Whatever you’re planning, stop.”

“Don’t you want to be a part of the community?” asked Stephen.

“I am, more so than you.” Nate shuffled cards one good time, then stacked them in the center of the table. The back of the chair supported his weight when he leaned backward to reach in his pocket for his cell phone. Four missed texts in the last hour from three different women, one a bit antsier than the others. Brittany Foley, his after-school special. Nate grinned. The pre-K teacher had worked with Philly during the transition after Ken died. She also worked on Nate in a more intimate way. He scratched his chin and the hairs where the beard he hadn’t bothered to shave away all week tickled his fingers.

Stephen sighed. “Hooking up with all the ladies in town is not considered being part of the community.”

“Whatever,” he mused. None of the women seemed to compare to Amelia. He dodged them at after-school pickup, went different directions down the aisle in the grocery store and hadn’t paid attention to any of his text messages. Prior to Amelia, his messages never went unread. Now, eh. What was wrong with him?

“Speaking of your service...” Stephen cleared his throat before folding his arms across his chest. “You’ve been staying in all week. Something you need to tell me?”

“Like what?” Leave it to Stephen to pay attention to this part of his personal life. When they were kids, Nate had been the nosy one.

“Like something about the woman you distracted for Natalia.”

“Yeah, so much for the private conversation. You two were blasted all over the internet.” The corners of Nate’s mouth turned upside down. The checkout lines were filled with photographs of Stephen and their childhood-friend-turned-reality-star. The guys knew Natalia way before she and her family became household names.

Stephen waved off the Nate’s guilt. “Lexi’s fine and we’ve never been better. I have you to thank. Natalia’s looking to leave show business and we’re in charge of finding a remote place for her.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

“Want to talk about the woman on your mind?”

“Hell no,” Nate snapped and pushed away from the table.

Stephen threw his hands in the air in surrender. “Sorry, don’t bite my head off.”

Nate waved his cell phone in the air and offered a cocky grin. “I am going to get back into the swing of things.”

“Attaboy.” Stephen began to give a slow clap. “I’m proud of you.”

Lexi bounced down the stairs. Her eyes looked between the two brothers. “Great. You agreed to do it.”

“Do what?” asked Nate. His eyes cut between his brother and Lexi.

Stephen pushed away from the wall and cleared his throat. “We hadn’t gotten around to that part yet.”

“What haven’t we gotten around to, big brother?” Nate leaned into the back of the chair, resting his long legs on the seat of the chair across from him.

Lexi stepped forward and flashed her tiara-winning smile. “We signed you up for the bachelor auction Saturday.”

Chapter 2

Grandmamma was ornery as ever, complaining every time the nurses brought a meal. The broken leg she’d sustained while trying to climb the stairs at her house did not improve her sour disposition. Either the food lacked seasoning or it had been cooked too long. After receiving the news of her grandmother’s fall down the steps, Amelia requested a few days off from work. Amelia had spent her first two days in Southwood at the Four Points General Hospital, listening to her complain about her leg not needing to be in traction and inquiring about the ages of the doctors coming into her hospital room. If she wasn’t at the hospital Amelia had been moving things around at Grandmamma’s home, where she’d stayed. She’d seen no need in looking up old friends: she had none. Her cousin Cay would be back from her family vacation this weekend and would be able to help with the house. Grandmamma needed to accept the fact that she was getting old and the steps were too much for her. As much as she’d dreaded being called in to the head office in Orlando, Florida, she’d almost welcomed the chance to get away from the hospital.

Seated on the black leather couch in front of the receptionist’s desk at MET Studios, Amelia crossed one leg over the other. The drive from Southwood to Orlando took four hours, but the day trip barely wrinkled her clothes. The black pencil skirt she wore today stretched against the back of her thighs as her foot began to twitch back and forth. She wore her brown hair in a French twist; she’d limited the amount of mascara she wore in case she cried today, and wore a light yellow, opal-colored blouse guaranteed to not allow her to sweat in this oppressive, never-ending, Southern summer heat. Thanks to a layer of anti-bite nail polish, she at least did not gnaw on her fingernails. Unlike the other sixteen floors below, which moved at the speed of light with reporters, producers, editing rooms, writers all trying to get their say and test kitchens, the top floor of Kelly Towers remained quiet. A light laughter filtered from the office next door to the boss. Amelia focused on the executive assistant, Rory Montgomery, who was seated at her desk and circling her index finger in the air to wind up her phone call with whomever was on the other line.

When she finished with her call, Rory opened the glass door to her own office and inclined her head for Amelia to enter.

“Jesus, Amelia, I’ve never seen you so nervous,” Rory commented.

In their ten years of knowing each other since freshman year at Florida A&M University, Rory might not have seen Amelia in too many nervous situations. As a budding young journalism major, Amelia had never found the time to think about her nerves. There’s always a first for everything. Amelia offered a half smile to the young receptionist at the desk as she passed by her circular desk and prayed her bundles of nerves weren’t so obvious.

Amelia had been on this floor when she came in for a job interview. After learning Amelia had earned her master’s in journalism from the University of Alabama, Rory had insisted on her friend applying for one of the producing jobs. Tired of being a glorified coffee girl for various production crews, Amelia took Rory up on the suggestion. Since being hired, Amelia had avoided the boss’s floor like a juvenile avoided the principal’s office. The friends never met in Rory’s office and now today they were going to have a casual meeting in here: Rory, Amelia and Christopher Kelly—the head man in charge.

“Relax.” Rory closed the door behind them and waved toward the two empty seats in front of her large black cherrywood desk. “You act like you’re about to walk the plank.”

The familiar diploma hung over the crimson wall above Rory’s computer. A black cherrywood bookshelf held several books, but Amelia mainly focused on the old photographs of Rory’s accolades from her time at MET. There was even a photograph of the two of them, arm in arm the first day of their freshman year, right next to one of the two of them at graduation. Looking at the pictures now, Amelia saw a resemblance between them. They had the same bobbed hairstyle popular at the time, and they both shared the same dark brown locks. Everyone always asked if they were related. Both women were athletically built, though neither of them played a sport, and had the same pecan skin color. Amelia liked to party, whereas Rory stayed in the dorm room to study.

“I’m not?” Amelia shook her head.

“You’re my girl.” Rory winked. “I’m not going to let you get thrown under the bus.” Because of her genuineness, professionalism and commonsensical approach to work, Rory enjoyed her—technically, their—boss’s trust and wielded a certain influence over him.

“William’s already called?” Amelia asked. Of course the mobile showrunner ratted her out in order to kiss up to MET execs.

“He called the minute he left your hotel room.” Rory rolled her eyes with disdain for William. “I warned Christopher about leaving his phone on at night.”

“Oh?” Amelia’s brows rose and a side grin began to form. “William didn’t interrupt anything between you two, did he?”

“Don’t start.” Rory laughed. “We are strictly platonic.”

As a person who observed people for a living, Amelia had picked up on some of the kind things Christopher Kelly did for Rory, but she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. She’d never heard of many bosses who randomly surprised their assistants with their favorite flowers or took them to family retreats. Of the few boyfriends Amelia had had in life, she’d only met the parents of one of them once and that wasn’t by choice—they’d lived across the street from her family for a while.

“Okay.” Amelia decided to drop it. Thinking of Rory’s perfect life only shined a light on Amelia’s glaringly imperfect one.

“Care to tell me who the guy was?” Rory asked.

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Rory peered around Amelia’s frame. “I don’t see one, so dish.”

“His name is Nate.” Amelia relaxed in her seat, spreading her fingers around the cushion of the blush chair.

“Okay,” Rory said slowly. “Nate what? And what does he do?”

“Reyes.” Amelia rolled her R the way he did.

A squeal escaped Rory’s mouth. “You naughty girl!”

“Whatever. I was due a night.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Rory nodded. “He must have been something special, huh?”

For some reason Amelia didn’t want to reveal too much, not even to her margarita gal pal. “I don’t know, and I’m not even sure if I am going to ever see him again. I got the call about my grandmamma and pretty much hightailed it out of the room.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.”

Amelia shrugged her shoulders. “It is what it is, and I am not cut out for relationships.”

“Because you love your job so much?”

A coy smile spread across Amelia’s face; she resisted emitting a maniacal laugh accompanied with a sinister rubbing of hands together. “I was going to say because I get to manipulate people’s lives, but let’s go with your answer.”

A cool breeze touched the back of Amelia’s neck and the sound of the phones ringing amplified behind her. The door opened and before she had the chance to turn around, Christopher Kelly stood beside her, hand stretched out. Amelia rose, not sure if she needed to curtsy or bow. The Kelly family was famous around the state. Cal Kelly, Christopher’s father, was an unchallenged state senator. His brother Mason was climbing the political ladder; another brother, Drew, was a doctor in the military and a hero for saving lives, and then there was Jared, the playboy war vet who worked for the DEA. Christopher’s mother, Maggie Kelly, was the only daughter of a pioneering movie producer who’d made the multicultural films Hollywood wouldn’t. Amelia had always admired Maggie Kelly for taking over her father’s business and building it into a multimillion-dollar corporation. To say Amelia was starstruck was an understatement.

“Mr. Kelly,” Amelia said as she decided to stand, misjudged his tall height and ended up hitting him in the lower abdomen with the top of her head as she stood up. “I’m so sorry,” she squealed with a flinch. Tears of embarrassment threatened to test her waterproof mascara.

“Amelia.” Rory sighed. “Relax. Chris, you remember meeting Amelia Marlow. Amelia, this is obviously Christopher Kelly.”

“Yes, I recall our interview,” Christopher said with a charming smile. He kept one hand in the left pocket of his light gray slacks while he shook her hand with the right. A crisp white Oxford was unbuttoned at this throat. “You’re one of our promising producers.”

“Thank you for noticing. And I’ve admired all of your work, too.”

“Well, let’s save some of that admiration until after this meeting.”

* * *

After her visit with her boss, Amelia went back to her studio apartment to pack a few things. Who ever heard of mandatory sick leave? Instead of being suspended, the boss strongly insisted Amelia take the time off to care for her grandmother in Southwood, away from Orlando and the studio. In a way, she should have been relieved for not having a suspension on her spotless work record.

Mr. Kelly chalked up the missed opportunity for this golden moment of reality TV due to her being overworked. He told her to take this opportunity to spend quality time with her grandmother and not concern herself with work—at least not for a few weeks or until she got her grandmother situated. He meant well, but work was her life. To top things off, the landlord caught her coming down the steps and stopped her to let her know about the impending increase in rent. So in four months she needed to decide if she wanted to renew her soon-to-be expensive apartment, where she rarely spent more than four days in a row, or take part of her time off to try and find a new place to move. Right now, she had enough to do.

Apparently, her starlet, Natalia, had refused to come out of the bathroom to be filmed. This latest incident in Azúcar only validated Amelia’s standing in the company. The commercial shoot for their number one show was on hold without Amelia being there to lay down the law. Natalia had refused to be filmed and spent her days in the bathroom, where the cameramen would not follow. They’d originally come to Atlanta to shoot a commercial, and the management team for the ad agency hired to create the latest business adventure, Azúcar Perfume, was gravely behind schedule. Amelia had granted one last favor to MET by making the trip back to Atlanta to explain to her star why she wouldn’t be able to work with her for a while.

“You’re so sweet for coming to see me face-to-face.” Natalia unclipped her thumbtack-sized microphone off the collar of her yellow blouse.

Amelia’s eyes glanced toward the mini-microphone and cringed. Her life’s work had been catching every moment for reality TV. How in the hell was she going to last in Southwood for the duration of her grandmother’s rehabilitation? “Of course I came to see you face-to-face. We’re friends and I firmly believe an explanation is best that way.”

“Well, I for one I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Natalia wailed as she fell against the oversize makeup chair in her Atlanta hotel suite. The stylist applying the black eyeliner messed up and left a streak of makeup along Natalia’s temple. According to William’s snide remarks, today was the first day Natalia had decided to put on makeup, thanks to the heads-up of Amelia’s arrival. Since Natalia had gone on her impromptu strike, there had been no grand openings or appearances to promote Azúcar Perfume, the latest business project for the Ruiz family, so filming was at a standstill.

Even with no formal announcement, Amelia still knew the show was about to go on. Most people, like Amelia, dressed down in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but not Natalia. Amelia had learned early on of Natalia’s addiction to makeup and heels. She never went anywhere without having her faux lashes attached or stilettos on her stems, and she never allowed the film crew to catch her bare-faced. Natalia getting her makeup done was a good start.