Whisper of Love (The Bradens at Peaceful Harbor, Book Five)

by Melissa Foster

  NASH LINGERED IN the mental space between thinking this was a bad idea and the reality of needing the income from the rented room. And then there was the beautiful blonde with the inquisitive mind, looking at him like she was trying to figure him out. Good luck with that. He was still trying to figure himself out. A few years ago he’d thought he had life figured out. Now he was just trying to make it from day to day without fucking up his son.

  He realized he hadn’t answered her question and said, “No strange habits. You?”

  “Strange habits?” She shook her head. “I’m pretty dull, actually. I spend most of my free time either hanging out with family, playing guitar, or writing music for my music therapy clients.”

  “You play guitar?” He hadn’t picked a guitar up in years. There was a time when his guitar was his constant, and only, companion. His brother, PJ, had taught him to play “Something” by George Harrison when he was thirteen. When you meet a girl who rocks your world, this is the song you’ll play. He’d played it nearly every day after PJ died. He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped playing the song, but it was well before he’d met Phillip’s mother, and not once had he played it for her.

  “Is that a problem?” she asked. “I can play outside. And I don’t play angry or offensive music.”

  He chewed on that for a minute, wondering if seeing her play would stir painful memories, and weighing his options. He needed to rent the damn room, and she seemed responsible, fairly quiet, and trustworthy. Where Phillip was concerned those were the most important things. “It’s fine.”

  She gazed tenderly at Phillip, who’d fallen asleep on his shoulder.

  “I better put him to bed,” he said. “But I’d like to know a little more about you before we make this decision. Can you wait a few minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  He motioned for her to make herself comfortable in the living room and took the stairs two at a time to put Phillip to bed. Something about Tempest had his gut churning, and he didn’t know if it was that she had already asked him more pointed questions than any of the other people who had inquired about the room, or that she’d stirred feelings that had been dead for a very long time. But he liked that she was careful, had checked him out before showing up, and asked a million questions. And the rest? Yeah, he liked that, too. He’d buried his emotions for so long, ignoring his attraction was just tossing another log to the pile.

  Phillip slept as he changed him into his pajamas and tucked him in bed. The poor guy was whipped every night. Nash didn’t know any other kids, but he was sure his boy was the best sleeper around. He would have liked to brush his teeth, but he could skip a night.

  He found Tempest looking over the books by the fireplace. She turned as he came into the room, flashing another easy smile that brought his guard down a notch.

  “You like stories about the sea.”

  “Among other things.”

  “My father used to tell me stories about mermaids hooking fish on the lines of fishermen.”

  My father used to tell me and PJ stories about a future that would never be.

  “Mind if we talk in the kitchen while I clean off those eggs?” Without Phillip, he needed something to do with his hands, and there was always something to be done—laundry, cleaning, caring for the animals. The list was endless.

  He waited for her to go into the kitchen before him. Big mistake. There was no place to look besides her long, thick hair, which his fingers itched to touch, or her gorgeous ass in that sexy little skirt, which the rest of his body wanted a shot at. He hadn’t been with a woman since Alaina left, and in all that time, he’d been so focused on Phillip, not one woman had made him think twice about sex. Suddenly Tempest breezed through his front door and he was like a fucking hound dog? He moved past her to distract himself from the lust heating up inside him and grabbed the buckets of eggs from the refrigerator.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked as he set the buckets beside the sink. “We’ve got iced tea.”

  “No, that’s okay.” She leaned against the counter on the other side of the sink, looking comfortable and serious.

  And pretty. Very, very pretty.

  “How old is Flip?”

  “He’s three.” He shook his head. He should correct her, but hearing her call his son Flip was adorable, and oddly sexy. He began washing the eggs, wanting to take the focus off his son and to get his mind on something other than how cute she was. Hot. You’re definitely hot. Fuck. This isn’t helping. “Why are you looking for a place to live?”

  “I’m from Peaceful Harbor and I just moved my business to this area. I’ve been staying with my cousin, Jillian, but she’s a night owl and I’m more of a give-me-sleep-so-I-remain-sane type of person.”

  He felt a grin tugging at his lips and set the clean egg on a towel beside the sink, grabbing another egg to wash off. “I hear ya there.”

  “I was beginning to wonder if you ever smiled.” She picked up the egg and dried it with the towel.

  I don’t do it often around strangers. He concentrated on cleaning the eggs, trying not to make too much out of how easy she was to talk to, or that she’d noticed his smile. It’d been a long time since anyone had noticed anything specific about him. Sure, he’d noticed women gawking when he and Phillip went into town for groceries or dropped off furniture at the stores that sold his work. But she wasn’t noticing the big guy with the baby. She’d noticed his smile.

  “When I’ve got Phillip with me around people we don’t know, I’m always a little tense. Sorry.”

  “I get it. I work with kids all the time, and even though I’m not their parent, I’m protective of them around strangers, too.” She took a few paper towels from the roll and spread them on the counter for the eggs.

  “Why are you renting out a room?” She set another egg on the paper towel and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. It immediately sprang free.

  “To cover some expenses for my business.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear again, and it fell forward. She sighed with a soft laugh that was so melodic he wanted to hear it again.

  “Happens to me, too,” he teased, earning another sweet laugh.

  They finished cleaning the eggs in comfortable silence. He placed them in a bowl and returned them to the refrigerator. “How long are you looking to rent?”

  “I haven’t really figured that out. I was hoping for a month-to-month lease to start, until I see how my business grows.”

  He held open the back door and she stepped out to the porch. “Sound won’t carry up to my boy’s room from out here.”

  She sat on the steps, and he sat beside her, consciously leaving space between them. Tempest leaned back against the railing post, her long legs dangling down to the second step. He tried not to stare, but she had gorgeous legs, and she was wearing sexy sandals with thin leather straps that wrapped around her ankles. He imagined running his hand along her smooth skin as he unwound those tantalizing little straps.

  “What else do you want to know?” she asked, pulling him from his fantasy.

  He cleared his throat, shifting his eyes to the grass, the trees, the sky. Anywhere but her legs as he tried to force the lascivious thoughts away and concentrate on evaluating her as a housemate. That was, if he could keep his frigging lust in check.

  “I’ve never rented out a room, and because of Phillip, I want to be sure that I cover all the bases. The truth is, I’m not sure what I need to know. The basics, I guess, because inviting you into my house is really inviting you, your family, and your closest friends.” He hadn’t planned on asking about any of that, but he knew all too well how true the statement was. “Any psycho boyfriends or ex-boyfriends I should know about? Wild friends? Bizarre family members?”

  She smiled and a puff of air escaped her lips. Add another sexy, hard-to-ignore thing about Tempest Braden.

  “No current boyfriend, psycho, or sane exes to worry about. Most of my friends are back in Peaceful Harbor, and
as I said, I usually hang out with my family. And they’re…” She sighed, and it was one of those happy sighs girls made when they were grasping for the right words to describe something or someone they loved.

  Anyone with that much love and clarity in her eyes when she spoke of her family couldn’t have anything to hide. There was a time when he’d had the same love and clarity in his own eyes, but that was before his brother had gone and gotten himself killed.

  TEMPEST ADORED HER family, but she often felt funny admitting that to strangers. She knew some people didn’t have the love and support she’d grown up with, and she thought it might be hurtful to hear of her good fortune. But something about the way Nash was looking at her made her think he needed to know the truth, and the fact that he understood how family dynamics could affect a person was a bonus in her eyes.

  “I have a big, close-knit family. Four overprotective, but not overbearing, brothers, and my sister and I are pretty different, but we’re close. I think I got lucky in the family department. How about you?”

  He was quiet for so long she didn’t think he was going to offer any insight into his family, and now that he’d brought up how living under the same roof was like inviting her relatives into his home, she wanted to know about his.

  “It was just me and my parents,” he finally said. “We were close.” He leaned his elbows on his thighs, wringing his hands together.

  When he cocked his head to the side, his eyes rolled over her face, lingering long enough around her mouth to make her nerves prickle and her stomach flutter. Every interminable second made her breathe a little harder. Unsure of how to handle the sudden and intense attraction, she shifted her eyes away. She shouldn’t even be thinking about renting a room from him when the impassioned way he was looking at her made her want to step outside her boundaries and take a walk on the big, gruff, sexy side. She should thank him for his time, walk straight out to her car, and drive away as fast as she could. But she was riveted in place as his expression softened and his eyes warmed.

  “Did you grow up around here?” she asked.

  “No, in Oak Rivers, Virginia. When I was in tenth grade my parents sold the house, packed up everything, and for the next two years I was homeschooled as we sailed around the world.” His solemn tone didn’t match the exciting trip he’d described.

  “That sounds amazing. I guess your parents are boat people, too. My dad has a boat, and a few of my brothers do, but then again, almost everyone in Peaceful Harbor does.”

  “My father loved the sea, but he was a professor, and my mother is an artist.”

  Loved? She hoped he’d just misspoken. “I guess artistic talent runs in your family. Do they live close by?”

  His gaze turned serious. “We lost my father more than a decade ago.”

  “Oh, Nash.” She resisted the urge to reach out and comfort him. If only she had her guitar so she could sing his heartache away. As the pieces of Nash began coming into focus, she realized he wasn’t just gruff. He’d been touched by loss, and he was protective of his son. She wondered again about Flip’s mother. Had he lost her, too?

  “I’m sorry about your father. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult that must be.”

  He nodded, drew in a deep breath. His chest expanded as he straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back. All his strength shifted back into place, as if he’d had a lot of practice coming out of the dark place he’d fallen into.

  “He was a good man,” he said with a thoughtful smile. “But if life offers one guarantee, it’s that death is inevitable. All you can do is move forward.”

  As correct as that statement was, it made her sad that he sounded so accepting of it. “How about your mother? Do you see her often?”

  “She’s remarried and has a busy life.” He cleared his throat. “Tempest,” he said in a thick, husky voice. “It seems you have some sort of truth serum in that perfume of yours. I’m supposed to be asking the tough questions.”

  “Sorry,” she said, feeling like she’d gotten a glimpse of the man beneath the armor and wanting to peel away a few more layers. “Go ahead. Ask me anything. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  “No?” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned so close she could see his lashes bend as they brushed the top of his cheeks. “Everyone’s got secrets.” His lips curved up, but even his perfect smile didn’t ease the intensity of his gaze.

  He was so big and powerful, but in these last few minutes he seemed vulnerable and unguarded. A bud of attraction rooted itself deep inside her. She felt as if her entire being was holding its breath, waiting for him to reveal more of himself. She wanted to know more of his secrets. The dark kind of secrets that lovers shared in the quiet of night, when their bodies were sated and sweaty and nothing else in the world existed. Holy cow. I do have a secret.

  “I…” She looked around the yard, as if the words she needed to extricate herself from the situation were tucked among the trees. “I should be going.”

  She pushed to her feet and he rose beside her, tall and sturdy as a towering oak. She wobbled on the edge of the step.

  “Whoa.” He steadied her with his hands on her hips, and their eyes caught—and held.

  Oh Lord did they hold. Her pulse quickened at the electricity sparking between them. She wasn’t prepared for this, much less for the urge to run her hands over the delicious muscles straining against his thin T-shirt.

  This is crazy.

  Insane.

  But he was hot. Super-hot. Forget-my-boundaries hot.

  She must really be overtired. Exhausted.

  Or I’m losing my freaking mind.

  “You okay?” His brows drew together, but his lips curved up again.

  Another smile for her to take a mental snapshot of for later. Great. Now she sounded like one of those dreamy-eyed girls who used to chase her brothers around. Standing up straighter, refusing to become that type of girl, she met his gaze—and felt herself looking for more in it. Would it be rude for her to ask him to go back to being gruff and closed off?

  “Yes, fine,” she lied, wishing he’d move his hands because she clearly wasn’t capable of doing it herself.

  His eyes coasted down her body, assessing her as if he wasn’t sure he believed her. Smart man. Smart sexy man.

  Stop!

  He released her slowly, the heat of his touch lingering long after his hands moved away.

  “So, you’ll think about the room?” he asked with a hint of hope in his voice.

  Not trusting what might escape her mouth, she nodded.

  “Okay.” Concern lingered in his eyes. He touched her lower back as they descended the porch steps, removing it when they hit the grass. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “It’s okay—”

  He gave her a disapproving look. “I have to make sure I locked up the chicken coop anyway.”

  Yeah, right.

  When they reached her car, he said, “You have my number. Call me with any questions.”

  She nodded. Since when had she become the silent one? This was ridiculous.

  “Okay,” she finally managed.

  “I’ve got two appointments to show the room lined up for this weekend, but if you’re interested, it’s yours.”

  Her mind twisted that into a far more personal invitation.

  “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” She climbed into the car and he closed the door for her, gave a curt nod, an almost smile, and headed for the chicken coop.

  Ohmygosh. Had she completely misconstrued everything that had just happened? She must truly be exhausted.

  Chapter Three

  NASH PARKED BEHIND the Country Charm furniture store, one of the retail outlets that carried his work. He unhooked Phillip from his car seat and lifted him into his arms, giving him a quick kiss before setting him on the ground. “Hang on to my pants leg, buddy.”

  He needn’t have said a word. Phillip knew the drill. Nash never made a delivery without him. He retrieved the chair they were deliveri
ng from the bed of the truck. Phillip clung to his pants leg as they ascended the concrete steps to the back door of the showroom. He set the chair on the landing and tousled Phillip’s hair, then nodded to the doorbell. Phillip pushed the button.

  “What do you say we hit the diner when we’re done?” The Main Street Diner was a rare treat for them. They had a walk-up ice cream window that opened to a patio and an old-fashioned jukebox, and Phillip loved to push the buttons and hum along to the songs.

  A smile lifted Phillip’s chubby cheeks as he nodded, sending his mop of dark curls flopping over his forehead.

  The showroom door swung open and Mrs. Padgerly, a fiftysomething widow with straight dark hair and a hankering for matchmaking—Call me Mrs. P; otherwise I feel like you’re talking to my mother-in-law—smiled back at them. “If it isn’t my two favorite men.” She crouched and tickled Phillip’s belly. “Your daddy better watch out. Soon you’ll be as big as he is.”

  Phillip giggled and moved behind Nash’s leg.

  “Sorry we’re so late.” Nash carried the chair into the receiving area and set it down. “I lost track of time.”

  He had worked during Phillip’s nap, and then again while Phillip played in the barn. But they’d taken a late-afternoon break, collecting vegetables from the garden and feeding a few to the goats. Phillip had plunked himself down in the middle of the goat pen and had come out stinking to high heaven. His bath had delayed them even longer, but Nash didn’t mind. They’d had a fun afternoon, and it was days like today that made him wonder how parents left their kids to go to work each day. He’d lose his mind if he had to go hours without seeing Philip, if he missed out on seeing Phillip’s excitement when he found the biggest tomato or hearing his endless giggles as Big and Little nibbled the vegetables right out of his hands. But then again, his unwillingness to miss those things was precisely why he needed to rent out the room, and that presented its own issues. Especially now that he’d met a particular blonde whom he couldn’t get out of his mind.