I wasn’t sure what I’d expected when Nash had said he was bringing me to his childhood home. Maybe a house in the suburbs. Maybe a craftsman home with a porch swing on a tree-lined street. But I certainly hadn’t expected for him to drive up to an eighteenth-century manor house, well-managed and well-kept enough to breathe wealth. A wealth Nash himself did not breathe.
As my disbelief wore off, my curiosity grew.
I followed Maribelle down the hallway toward the back of the house and into the kitchen. There was nothing left of its origins except a brick oven where an old fireplace had likely once stood. Instead, the kitchen was all stainless steel, marble, and deep woods, full of modern conveniences but presented in a way that echoed the paneling and the staircase we’d left behind.
Maribelle waved me toward a small, round table in an alcove with a cushioned window seat. A vase of gorgeous fresh flowers rested on it. When I sat down, the scent of lemon and honey wafted over me again. The same scent had filled the car as we’d approached the house.
“Please don’t worry about getting anything for me,” I told her as she bustled around in the kitchen. “I’m not even sure I’d be able to hold it down.”
“Don’t be silly. Nash knows I always have biscuits. It would be a sin not to have them in my kitchen.”
She brought over a tray with a basket of them so large and fluffy they screamed homemade. Resting on the engraved, silver tray were small jars of honey and jams with the labels stating “Wellsley Place” just like the gates.
“You make your own jams?” I asked.
Maribelle sat opposite me. “Not me personally, but the plant does.”
I was having a hard time keeping up.
“What has he told you about the farm?” she asked.
I shook my head, grabbing one of the biscuits and placing it on a vintage, blue-and-white china plate she’d given me. As I broke the biscuit apart, I answered, “Nothing. Literally nothing. I didn’t even know he had a family until yesterday.”
She didn’t look bowled over by this revelation, which kind of clenched my heart. She seemed to care for him. She had obviously been a part of his life for a while, and yet, he’d never once talked to anyone I knew about her. About any of it. What did that say about him? About his childhood? Had he grown up in this gorgeous setting but left with scars he didn’t want to remember?
“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not,” she said, pouring two glasses of sweet tea without even bothering to ask if I wanted one. I wasn’t sure I’d ever want tea again after yesterday, but when I took a tentative sip, I had to sigh with delight. It was the best tea I’d ever tasted, sweetened with honey and a hint of molasses or brown sugar.
When I didn’t comment, Maribelle continued. “He and Carson fight more than talk. It wasn’t always that way, but it’s the way it’s been since Nash was sent off to boarding school when he needed us most. It ensured he grew up needing no one.”
There was a sadness in her words. Old wounds and heartache.
Military school. Had Nash been one of those rebellious kids who needed tough love to get his life back together? I couldn’t imagine him as some spoiled rich kid, doing drugs and partying. Nor could I imagine him getting into trouble stealing or with gangs or failed grades. You had to be at the top of your class to get into the Naval Academy. You had to remain there to get offered one of the exclusive spots at BUD/S coming right out of it. You couldn’t be a screw-up.
She brought herself out of her memories and back to me. “So, he’s your bodyguard?”
The one question was layered with many more, and I wasn’t sure how much to tell her. I didn’t need to worry about a response as Nash’s voice cut through the room instead.
“It’s just a temporary thing, Maribelle, so don’t start filling your head with ideas you and I both know will never come true. I’m on leave at the moment, and Dani needed help, that’s all.”
When he walked over to the table, I was taken in again by his jeans and T-shirt, so casual and yet clinging to him in every way possible. The jeans were not that different from his cammies, but for some reason, they gave him a different vibe. It took the badass Navy SEAL and made him more relatable. More human.
Or maybe it was just seeing him here, in an environment that had caused him enough pain to never mention it.
He picked up a biscuit and broke it in half before putting some in his mouth. I watched the path of the food to where it disappeared behind his lips which were strong and demanding and yet also gentler than you’d imagine. I looked away before he caught me staring, only to find Maribelle had been watching me instead.
“How long will you be here?” Maribelle asked.
“A couple of weeks,” he responded.
I didn’t know who was more nervous at that thought. Him, for being here in the place he obviously didn’t relish being, or me because it meant I’d be in constant contact with him. Although, the house was obviously large enough for me to avoid him, and I had enough work to do with Brady’s disappearing act to keep me busy. I had to stay on top of the rumors to keep them from doing permanent damage.
“You’ve told the poor woman nothing about us,” Maribelle pretended to scold. “Why don’t you take her on a tour? That is, if you remember how to be a tour guide.” Maribelle’s eyes were sparkling at the jab she gave him.
He snorted. “I’m not sure Dani is up for a hike across the fields. She was sick yesterday.”
“You were?” Maribelle asked
