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

by Melissa Foster

  The pixie was carved of wood, with wide angel wings. It had taken him weeks to get her wings just right, with layers of scalloped etchings and minuscule carvings of butterflies. He ran his hand over the intricately carved flowers that made up her hair. She sat with one leg folded beneath her, the other leaning against the body of a guitar, which was made of both wood and metal. Her eyes were closed in a tranquil expression. Her chin rested on the back of her hands, which were perched on the headstock of the guitar. He’d carved the bottom of the tree trunk into a sturdy stool, with vines wrapped around each leg. He hadn’t wanted to let the piece go, but he couldn’t travel with it, and it had brought in more than twenty-five hundred dollars.

  “Love Spirit,” he said. “That’s what I called her.”

  “I know. I love her. She’s my good-luck piece.” Hattie reached up on a shelf and handed him the card he’d included with the piece.

  Love Spirit. She is the embodiment of goodness in humanity. Enjoy her.

  —Nash Morgan

  He smiled and handed the card back to her. “I’m glad she found a good home.”

  “It’s a sign, you know,” she said as they walked out of her office. “Tempest bringing you to me like this.”

  Chills ran up his spine.

  “Maybe so.” He glanced over at the children’s boutique, where Tempest stood in the center of a mass of children, holding Phillip’s hand. She glanced up, meeting his gaze and, along with the sparks he’d come to expect sizzling between them, there was an undercurrent of something much more powerful.

  “You said you don’t do art much anymore,” Hattie said. “Why? I’d love to carry your work.”

  He shook his head to bring his mind back to the conversation. “It’s dangerous with Phillip around.” He drew in a deep breath, remembering all the things Tempest had been telling him lately, and added, “But he might be starting preschool soon. Maybe we can work something out then.” Selling even one sculpture would pay for the year’s tuition.

  The longer they talked, the more excited Nash became about the possibility of working toward selling sculptures again.

  Jillian and Nick stopped by to listen to Tempest play, and stayed to chat with Nash. Tempest was warm and funny with the children and friendly with the parents. By the end of the afternoon, Phillip was exhausted, Tempest had picked up seven new kids for her music classes, and Nash was head over heels for the woman who was changing their lives one day at a time.

  Later that evening, after Phillip played with his new tambourine—tambern—and went to bed, and Tempest oohed and aahed over her new earrings, Nash took a shower and went to work setting up a surprise for her while she soaked in a long, hot bath. He placed the candles he’d also bought from Hattie around the room. He lit them on the windowsills, beside the bed, and on the desk and dresser, filling the room with the scent of lilacs. He set the box of condoms in her bedside drawer, knowing Phillip was less likely to go into her things than his, and he hoped he wasn’t jumping the gun. But he’d spent fifteen years bottling up his emotions, and whether he was jumping the gun or not, he didn’t want to hold anything back.

  His stomach felt like wasps were nesting in it, but he took that as a good sign. He was feeling again. He cared. His hand shook a little as he lit the last candle, and a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

  “Nash…?”

  He set the lighter on the table and turned. His body flamed at the sight of Tempest wearing only a towel and a seductive gaze. Crimson spread up her chest and neck, blooming over her cheeks. Her skin was still damp from her bath. Behind her, the bedroom door was closed.

  “Angel,” he said, taking her face between his hands. “Do you believe in signs?”

  TEMPEST GAZED INTO Nash’s eyes, trying to think past the blood pounding in her ears. Her body vibrated with desire. She’d felt his eyes on her all day at the boutique, while pretty women gawked at him and men sized him up. She’d wanted to claim him in front of them all—claim him! Tempest had never wanted to claim a person in her life. Nash hadn’t seemed to notice the women vying for his attention. He’d been too busy undressing her with his eyes. She wondered if he had been wishing, as she had been, that they could find a private area and finish what they’d started last night.

  “Universal signs?” she asked hopefully. His mouth was so close she smelled his minty toothpaste. When she’d first seen the candles, she’d felt like she’d walked into a scene from a romantic movie, but his question and the look in his eyes brought it all home. This was their romance, and it was as real as the hardwood floor they were standing on.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yes, always have.”

  “I never did,” he said, “but in the past two days, I’ve seen them everywhere. I call you angel because it came to me, and it felt right. Then today, when we were at the boutique, Hattie had my Love Spirit sculpture, the embodiment of everything good, which is how I see you.”

  She’d seen the angel after she’d finished playing. It was stunning.

  “A sign,” she whispered. A lump formed in her throat from his confession, and the look in his eyes, and the candles, and…him.

  He kissed her, still holding her face like he needed her to hear every word he said. And she wanted to hear every last one.

  “When I sang to you the other night, I hadn’t played that song in years.” His hands left her cheeks, and he stared at his fingers. “But when my fingers hit the strings, it came without thought.”

  His eyes found hers again, and she felt herself getting lost in them.

  “PJ taught me that song, and he told me…He told me one day I’d sing it to someone special.” His lips curved up, and tenderness rose all the way to his eyes.

  The lump in her throat thickened, not because of the things he was saying, but because he was thinking of his brother in a positive light, and she wanted that for him so badly she could taste it.

  “Another sign,” she said, breathy and soft. “The night I saw you and Phillip getting ice cream was my first sign. I had just thought about how I needed a sign to know if I should move in, and then there you two were. And the candles are another sign, because that’s what I always used at night in my apartment. They help me relax.”

  But tonight they had the opposite effect. His potent male scent overwhelmed her despite the pretty, floral-scented candles, making her mind travel to dark, dirty places. She knew how incredible his naked body felt, the pleasures he would bring with every touch, every kiss. And as he drew her into the circle of his arms, all his tenderness ignited, sparking electric currents like flames beneath her skin.

  Holding his gaze, she dropped her towel to the ground. “Your turn.”

  He took a step back, raking his eyes down her body, and she swore he growled. Growled! He made quick work of stripping out of his clothes, and then there were no words needed as he hauled her to him. His fingers dug into her flesh as he devoured her mouth, his cock pressing eagerly against her belly. She felt passion rising like the hottest fire, and she grabbed at his ass, his back, his shoulders, anywhere she could reach as they stumbled to the bed and tumbled down together.

  His broad body cocooned her from above. Her hips cradled his. His cock rubbed along her sex as he took their kisses deeper. He groped her breasts, her ass, moving as fast and hungrily as she felt. She dug her fingers into his back, wrapping one leg over his hip, wanting all of him.

  “Baby, if you keep doing that, we’ll skip all the foreplay.”

  He captured her mouth in a blazing kiss, and she grasped at the thoughts whirling around her head. She wanted foreplay. She loved foreplay. He was a master at foreplay. But she needed him buried deep inside her.

  She tore away from the kiss. “Condom. Did you get condoms?”

  His grin told her he did. He leaned over and grabbed the box from the bedside drawer, withdrew a few, and tossed them on the bed.

  “Hurry,” she urged, rising beneath him and shoving a little square package into his hand.

&n
bsp; He tore it open with his teeth and leaned back on his knees, pinning her in place with a piercing stare as he rolled it on. His eyes were pitch-dark, his abs rippled with each heavy breath. She itched to touch them, to feel them grinding against her. He looked like sin and goodness personified, and she could hardly believe this magnificent man with a heart of gold was hers.

  He took her in another toe-curling kiss before lowering her gently to the bed and kissing her again, slow and deep. Every slide of his tongue brought a rush of anticipation. She shifted her hips, bringing the broad head of his cock tight against her throbbing sex. When he drew back from the kiss, brushing his hand along her cheek, and smiled down at her, she felt herself unraveling.

  “Kiss me, Nash.” Before I lose my mind.

  His mouth came coaxingly down over hers, and he angled his hips and pushed in slowly. She felt every inch of him entering her, until he was buried to the hilt.

  “Tempe,” he said in a low, long breath.

  The look on his face was raw lust and pure, unadulterated pleasure. The heat of his body coursed down the entire length of hers as they began to move.

  “Tempe. Jesus, Tempe.”

  Hearing him say her name in such a sex-laden voice sent a turbulent wave soaring through her. She bowed off the bed as they found their groove, but he was too big, thrusting too hard, and she sank down to the mattress. He kissed her possessively and pushed his hands beneath her ass, angling her up as he ground his hips in slow, erotic circles. Sparks of pleasure radiated from her core. How could it have been years since he’d done this? He was beyond talented. He was a sex machine, a master of copulation. He was—holy shit. Her thoughts fragmented as he thrust faster, deeper, giving her pleasures she’d only dreamed of. When he sealed his teeth over her neck, the rush of an orgasm raced up her limbs.

  “Harder,” she panted out.

  He covered her mouth with his, kissing and thrusting, kissing and thrusting, in a dizzying pattern, hurtling her beyond the point of return.

  “Nash—” she cried out at the same time as he groaned out her name, pushing in so deep he hit some magical spot she didn’t know existed, catapulting her to new heights. Suspended at the peak, panting and breathless, her whole body trembled. And then he kissed her again, alighting a tremor between her thighs and sending the orgasm crashing over her in one explosive wave after another.

  They lay together long after their breathing calmed, drained and sated. He rolled away and sat up at the edge of the bed, ridding himself of the condom. He tied it off, wrapped it in tissues, and tossed it in the trash can. Then he gathered her in his arms as he’d done the other night and kissed her shoulder.

  “I’ll take care of that later,” he whispered in a thick, gravelly voice. “I need to hold you.”

  She snuggled against him, his warm breath drifting over her skin. She closed her eyes, feeling his heart beating against her back.

  “I want to hold you all night.” He kissed her shoulder, and she melted a little more.

  She splayed her hands over his arms, wishing he could hold her all night. “I don’t want to go back to Peaceful Harbor tomorrow.”

  “Those girls need you.” He nuzzled against her neck, and she closed her eyes, sinking back against him like his body was made for holding her. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her cheek, and she allowed herself a brief moment of wondering what it would be like to fall asleep like that every night. “But I’ll be counting the minutes until you come home.”

  When she’d left Peaceful Harbor, she hadn’t ever imagined thinking of another place as home or associating anyone other than family with that word. But as she lay in Nash’s safe, loving arms, thinking about home and drifting off to sleep, it was his and Phillip’s faces she took with her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  SATURDAY MORNING WAS bittersweet. Nash and Tempest had made love two more times, and he’d stayed with her until nearly four o’clock in the morning. But this morning, exhausted and still smiling, she’d left for the weekend. Nash sat at the kitchen table designing a cabinet for a custom order, feeling her absence weighing in the silence. He got up and turned on the radio, wondering how he’d stood the quiet before he’d met her.

  All this time he’d thought he was doing the right thing by being there for his son twenty-four seven. But now, as Phillip sat on the chair beside him, his little face scrunched up in concentration, Nash worried he was stymieing him with their quiet and happy existence. He needed to make more of an effort to speak and take him places. He’d had a full childhood, but he’d pushed those memories so far away, he’d forgotten how important those experiences were.

  He draped an arm over the back of Phillip’s chair. “What are you drawing, buddy?”

  “Us.” Phillip remained hunkered down over his drawing.

  Nash took in the two almost circles with several straight lines coming out from them. “Look at me, buddy.”

  Phillip lifted his eyes, and Nash’s chest warmed.

  “When someone speaks to you, buddy, you should look at them, okay?”

  Phillip nodded.

  “And when you answer, can you please try to use your words?”

  “You don’t always use your words.”

  You are a smart little man. “You’re right, but I’m working on fixing that.”

  Phillip nodded, and Nash cocked a brow.

  “Okay,” Phillip said, and went back to drawing.

  Nash watched him for a few more minutes as he added another almost circle to the drawing and a few scribbles near the bottom of the page.

  “What are those?”

  Phillip pointed to the scribbles. “Big and Little and the chickens.” Then he pointed to the almost circle. “Tempe.”

  Even his son was thinking about her. Maybe a change in scenery would do them both some good.

  He pushed from his seat and held a hand out to Phillip. “C’mon, bud. Let’s go someplace.”

  Phillip took his hand and slid off his chair. “To the cookie lady?”

  It took Nash a second to realize he was talking about Emmaline. He was still a little embarrassed by his curt response to her. “How about the park?”

  Phillip grabbed his wooden giraffe from the counter as Nash turned off the radio.

  “How about the park and the cookie lady?” Phillip asked as they headed out the front door.

  “Okay. Sounds like a plan. But we have to swing by the hardware store on the way home to pick up a few things.”

  A short while later Nash lifted Phillip from his car seat and set his feet on the sidewalk. They fell into step behind a family, and Nash found himself comparing the interactions between the parents and children to his interactions with Phillip.

  “I liked the monkey in the movie. Did you, Mom?” one little girl asked.

  The woman put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and continued chatting with the man. When the other little girl chimed in about her favorite part of the movie, neither parent acknowledged her, either. Nash looked down at Phillip, taking pride in the fact that their nonverbal communication was better than no response at all.

  He pulled open the door to Emmaline’s just as Jillian walked out with Emmaline on her heels. He’d hoped to avoid Emmaline, and he certainly hadn’t expected to see Jillian. Emmaline’s eyes bloomed wide with surprise.

  A smile goes a long way. He flashed his best smile and hoped he looked less nervous than he felt. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Phillip mimicked, making Nash’s smile one hundred percent real.

  “Cuteness!” Emmaline exclaimed. “And cuteness’s dad. How are you boys?”

  Nash laughed at the endearment. “We’re great, thanks. How are you?”

  “You guys know each other?” Jillian asked. She was dressed to the nines, in sky-high heels and a tight, silver, glittery dress.

  Nash wondered where she could possibly be going dressed like that. “We met last weekend,” he answered. “Is there a gala I’m not aware of?” He nodded toward her dress.
r />   “Dad.” Phillip tugged on his hand.

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  “Use your words,” Phillip whispered.

  Jillian and Emmaline exchanged an approving smile.

  “Shown up by a three-year-old. Nice.” He tousled Phillip’s hair. “You’re right, buddy.” To the girls he said, “We’re trying to learn to communicate better. Jillian, that’s a lovely dress. Are you going someplace special?”

  Jillian bent to Phillip’s height and said, “Your daddy did well.”

  “Jilly dresses like this a lot,” Emmaline said. “It comes with the job.”

  “I wear my designs so they sell better,” Jillian explained. “Speaking of which, I need to get back to the shop. Nice to see you guys. Can you please tell Tempe to call me? I miss her.”

  I miss her, too, and she’s only been gone a few hours. “Sure,” he answered, thinking it was the perfect excuse to send her a text. “She’s in Peaceful Harbor this weekend.”

  Jillian was turning to leave, and stopped. “Are things going okay with her staying at your place?”

  “Yes, great.” Better than great.

  “She teached me to count,” Phillip chimed in.

  “Tempe is a fantastic counter,” Jillian said, flashing a smile to Nash.

  He took it as a sign of approval. “She had a Girl Power meeting today,” he explained.

  “Oh, right. Well, we’ll catch up when she gets back.” Jillian waved as she headed down the sidewalk.

  “I just made some delicious apple pie,” Emmaline said. “Can cuteness have a piece?”

  Phillip gazed up at him with a hopeful look, and just as Nash was going to answer, Phillip said, “Can I please have pie?”

  Was it silly to feel prideful for something so small? If so, he didn’t give a damn, because his little boy was a very fast learner. And in the last ten minutes, both of them had climbed out of their comfort zones pretty impressively. “Absolutely.”

  They ate their pie in the crowded café, and he texted Tempest. Is it crazy that I miss you already? P and I are at Emmaline’s eating pie. This is all your doing. It’s kind of nice to be enjoying life again instead of just making it through each day. Think you can make the weekend go faster? Can’t wait to see you. He looked at Phillip before sending the text, and changed the last sentence to We can’t wait to see you before sending it off and giving Phillip, who was counting each bite he took, his full attention.