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The soft batting of her lashes tempted him to stay. He wanted to see them flutter in the midst of a climax. But Nate held strong. “No, I’m not, but I am trying to do the right thing here.”
“Which is?”
“Amelia.” Nate sighed heavily and took her hand in his. “I would love more than anything in the world to stay here with you, but I have my nieces I need to look out for. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea about us.”
“Us, or you?” Amelia asked out of nowhere.
“What?”
Amelia shook her head and then smiled. “I’m sorry. I am a bit cranky. You head on back and I’ll see you in the morning.”
* * *
Just because Nate had a curfew didn’t mean Amelia did. So when Chantal stopped by with the last cartridge of footage on her way to the club, Amelia took her up on the offer to come along. From what she’d learned, Chantal was talented as well as smart. She helped Lexi out at Grits and Glam Gowns, not only with the books but with the pageant choreography. Now that Chantal had recently graduated with her MBA, she actually was able to get paid as a bookkeeper-slash-dancer.
“It’s not the dancing my grandmother wants to brag about,” Chantal said, circling the rim of her wineglass with her index finger. They sat in the VIP section, watching the patrons on the dance floor below.
“Don’t get me started on grandmothers.” She liked the young dancer a lot; they had a lot in common. Both women worked hard and spent a lot of time on their phones. Tonight, however, proved to be a difference between the two of them; Amelia had forgotten her cell phone at home.
“That’s right.” Chantal laughed. “At least we don’t have to see our families all the time.”
Moisture began to pool at the stem of Amelia’s glass. After Nate left, she and Grandmamma had discussed different flavor ideas for ice cream. Having the old equipment dragged out onto the breezeway had gotten Grandmamma all nostalgic. She even wanted to send Amelia out to the store to pick up the ingredients, but when Chantal came over, Grandmamma had ushered her out the door. Things were certainly different now that she was older. Grandmamma was slightly easier to get along with. Would staying here be so bad?
“Well,” Amelia said with a sigh, not knowing what to say. Was she seriously thinking about staying here?
A slow smile spread across Chantal’s face. “Do I hear hesitation in that ‘well’?”
Heat reached Amelia’s cheeks before she could register her embarrassment. “I’m not saying Southwood is all bad. And after last week’s barbecue, my cousin Cay has been set on reopening the family’s ice-cream parlor.”
“You better snatch up the property soon,” said Chantal. “A lot of developers have been vying for that location.”
“I know. I can’t believe it hasn’t been bought yet.” When her parents had closed up shop, they had done so leaving a lot of things intact—the original flooring, the wall-unit freezer, even the cases for the bins of ice cream. Cay’s idea to reopen the place had really stuck with Amelia. Cay didn’t have the equity for the place, but Amelia did. Working with her cousin had been fun. And who knew? With the flavors they came up with, the foodies visiting Southwood would literally eat it up.
Amelia didn’t mind the revamping of the city or the traffic it brought in. If travelers wanted to spend time in an authentic small town, who was she to point fingers? As a matter of fact, it might make for an interesting pitch to MET. Small town, big bucks?
“It helps having a hot guy like Nate to persuade you, huh?”
“Nate helps,” said Amelia. “It’s nice knowing not everyone hates me.”
“I can’t imagine anyone hating you.”
At that inopportune moment Brittany Foley entered the VIP section, stumbling over her four-inch heels at the top step. Their eyes locked and Amelia resisted the urge to smirk when Brittany’s lip rose in a snarl. “No need to imagine, here’s one right now.”
Chantal scoffed at the comment. “Brittany doesn’t count. You’re occupying her man.”
My man, Amelia thought.
“I mean, the man she thinks is hers,” Chantal corrected herself. “Now, with you here, he’s off the market. If you leave, there might just be a feeding frenzy.”
If, the one little word that struck a chord with Amelia. “Nate is a big boy. He can handle himself.”
“Of course Nate is a big boy,” Brittany snarled as she approached. “And now that you’re not forcing him to be with you...”
“Oh, come on now, Brittany,” Chantal cooed. “She can’t be forcing him too much if Nate is the one begging her to go home with him this weekend.”
As a field producer for catty reality shows, Amelia earned cash bonuses for money shots. The opened mouth, stretched face and rush of red across Brittany’s cheeks would have gotten Amelia the bonus of a lifetime. Staying in town just to keep the look of shock on Brittany’s face might be worth it.
“You know what,” Brittany began, her eyes crinkled at the corners of her eyes. “Y’all need Jesus. I’m going to pray for you, something which I can do because my grandfather, Pastor Rivers, taught me to do that for my enemies.”
