What was it about Amy that got to him? He had spent little time with her, but somehow she always hovered at the edge of his awareness. Perhaps it was her nurturing way, reminding him what home felt like. Or perhaps it was his desire to explore what lay underneath her casual dress.
Whatever the reason, he shouldn’t get too caught up in it. He wasn’t staying long and he had to get to the bottom of who was telling the truth—Amy or Sherlock.
He glanced at his laptop again, and then his phone. Sherlock would be awake by now, and running laps around the base.
Leave it. He had enough of his own family issues to sort out.
He washed his face and then wandered over to the main house. The utes were already gone, so Darcy or Matt were probably off feeding the animals or checking fences.
As he neared the kitchen door, the scent of bacon wafted towards him and his stomach rumbled. Inside, Amy stood at the stove frying bacon. If nothing else, the woman could cook. He pushed open the door, determined to make amends. “Morning.”
Her cautious smile made him feel like an asshole. “Good morning. Would you like bacon and eggs for breakfast?”
“Yes, please.” He placed his baseball cap on the hooks by the door. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She didn’t look at him as she responded. “You can make the coffee.”
Yeah, he definitely needed to apologise. “I’m sorry about last night.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Which part?”
He deserved that. “About prying into your life and then being so insensitive. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Amy sighed. “I get why you did it,” she said. “And I’m used to men in the army being insensitive.” She slid the bacon onto some paper towel.
Brandon flinched at being grouped with the major. His mother would be horrified, she’d taught him better. And he should have been understanding. He’d avoided questions about his family his entire adult life. “It must have been rough.” She’d been all of fifteen when she’d left home.
“It was.” She cracked a couple of eggs into the frypan and then put two slices of bread in the toaster.
It wasn’t his place to pry, but maybe it would help to hear about her brother. “Arthur said you were tough and independent.”
She glanced at him. “I had no choice.”
Right. Had Sherlock realised? “How many years are between you two?”
“Four. Dad wasn’t around often enough to get Mum pregnant.”
Ouch. Not the way he wanted to envision the major.
The toast popped up and Amy buttered it, placing it on a plate with the eggs and bacon on top. “Here you go.” She placed the plate on the table. “Darcy said to tell you he’ll be back by ten. Asked for you to wait for him, whatever that means.”
Damn. He wanted to get started. “Darcy and I have to finish going through Mum and Dad’s papers.”
“You don’t think Ed and I are smart enough to help?” Georgie asked as she walked in.
He sighed. The last thing he needed was Georgie in a mood. “How much do you know about the Ridge’s finances?”
She frowned. “Not a lot.”
“Then you won’t be much help. Darcy knows the business and until we get a lawyer to sort out things, I own the land. You’re welcome to sit in, but it’s likely to be boring as hell.”
“I should go through Mum’s address book and contact all her old school friends.”
He winced. It wasn’t a task he wanted. “If you feel up to it.”
Georgie shrugged. “It should be done.” She poured herself a coffee. “Where’s La La?”
“She went with Darcy,” Amy said. “She had a nightmare and doesn’t want to let him out of her sight.”
