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 right as I said, “I can make it.”
“You can take Betsy. Carson drove the car over to the offices today,” Maribelle said.
“Who’s Betsy?” I couldn’t help asking.
“A glorified golf cart,” Nash responded.
The opening and shutting of the front door echoed down the vacant hall, and to my surprise, it sent Nash into action. He headed for the back door off the kitchen, opening it and looking back at me expectantly. It was the closest to bolting I’d ever seen him do, and it caused me to join him at the door without a second thought.
Once outside, I stopped to take in the scene: a huge swimming pool tucked into a completely manicured garden that would have made the president jealous. But I didn’t have time to devour it before Nash had walked down the veranda steps and out across the yard swiftly. I jogged to catch up to him as he approached what must once have been a carriage house. It was now a multi-car garage.
Nash lifted the door of the first bay, and inside was, literally, a golf cart. Someone had painted it to look like a wagon with the word “Betsy” across the side like an old-fashioned merchant sign. It was as ridiculous as everything else I’d seen since arriving. I was smiling when I got into the passenger seat, and Nash noticed, his lips quirking in response.
As we drove out, a man came from the back door where we’d exited, but I didn’t get much more than a glimpse of him as Nash hit the gas and sped off down a gravel road. Past the pool and the carriage house was a large expanse of lawns and rose bushes of all sorts of varieties and colors, and beyond those, we hit a wall of trees. They had the strangest white flowers grouped similarly to hydrangeas but with an almost furry appearance. The air filled again with the smell of lemon…no… lemonade. It was heady and overpowering. My stomach wasn’t sure how it felt about it, but I knew, on any other day, I would have enjoyed it.
“What are they?” I asked.
“Australian lemon myrtle,” Nash said. “The flowers are edible. Both the flowers and the leaves are used in the manufacturing of essential oils that are sold at the General Store.”
I didn’t know how to respond to any of it. His knowledge of plants. A general store. What more would I find to unravel here?
Beyond the trees, we broke into fields of plants, green shrubs that I didn’t know but still held the scent of lemon. Some had white and purple flowers, but many were just rows and rows of vegetation. Beyond that was a manmade pond so large it was almost a lake. It was surrounded on the far side by weeping willows, their long strands draping into the water’s edge. A light breeze picked up, bringing other scents to me before we were suddenly in the middle of a huge field of lavender. The purple and violet blooms were fading this late in the season, but it was still a beautiful show of color that carried for acres on both sides of the gravel drive.
As we drove, people in the fields or on other carts put their hands to their foreheads, squinting in the sunlight, and then waved. Nash didn’t even see half of them. He was lost in his memories, and I felt the need to bring him back. To somehow comfort the turmoil swirling within him. As we left the lavender behind and came upon what seemed to be acres more of greenhouses, I taunted him playfully, “You’re doing a great job as a tour guide.”
His hands squeezed even tighter on the steering wheel before loosening. “It may have been a mistake coming here. We can leave tomorrow. Get a hotel.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Nash.”
He didn’t even glance in my direction.
