Palmetto Passion: A Sweet Small Town Family Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 1)

by Christina Benjamin

  It definitely didn’t help that the man approaching me was dangerously distracting. He was quite possibly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life.

  Dark brown hair hung into glass blue eyes, so blue that they could rival the sapphire sky. Eyes like that were trouble. They were the kind of eyes you could get lost in.

  There was something churning in those blue depths though, something sorrowful that matched the sadness I’d heard in his voice.

  Just who was this guy?

  My eyes seemed determined to find out. I couldn’t stop staring at the way his white shirt clung to his chiseled frame. His muscles strained against the fabric like they wanted to rip free. He had dirt smudged across his sharp jaw, his pants similarly stained. He was clearly hard at work when I’d arrived. I felt bad for interrupting him.

  With a jolt, I remembered I was supposed to be meeting with the groundskeeper. This had to be him. Gerald! I hadn’t been expecting such a hunk but apparently even the staff was stunning at the Bradford Estate.

  I hurried forward, almost stumbling over my shoes as I thrust a hand toward the gorgeous man.

  “Yes,” I repeated, still forcing that blinding smile. “I'm Tess Taylor representing Mabel’s Flowers. Believe me, Gerald, you are going to be totally blown away when you hear all the ideas we’ve been throwing around!”

  Even though my knees were trembling and my nerves were making the hair on my arms stand on end, I tried to sound as confident as possible. That’s what makes sales, right?

  “Now, Mrs. Bradford said you’d show me around the grounds. I’d love to get started.”

  He blinked, his head tilting one way and then the other. After a moment he shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Where should we start?” I asked, turning in a slow circle and then looking back at him.

  He shielded the sun off his handsome face and peered out at the water, watching the moored boats bob. While he thought, I shifted anxiously from foot to foot, trying to control my urge to ramble. I’d never been good at staying still or quiet, especially when I was nervous. And right now, my nerves were off the Richter scale.

  Unable to stop myself, idle chatter burst forth. “You know, I’ve been trying to put my finger on what this place reminds me of. It’s like that place the Kennedys have in Cape Cod.”

  Gerald’s eyebrows shot up. “Hyannis Port. Have you been?”

  I snort-laughed, but then realized he was serious. “Um, no. I mean, I’ve seen pictures but, no. I’ve definitely never graced the same grounds as the Kennedys.”

  “Well now you have,” he replied, smoothly.

  “What?”

  “JFK, Jr. stopped here briefly on his honeymoon tour.”

  “Shut up!”

  He smirked. “It’s true. Look it up. There are photographs in the town hall.”

  With hands on my hips I shook my head, looking at the gorgeous grounds with even more astonishment. “This place . . . I can’t even imagine what it’s like to live here. Can you?”

  His smile was thin-lipped when he turned to me. “I suppose I can.”

  “Well sure, I guess you’re used to being here all the time, since you’re the groundskeeper. But to mere mortals this place is pretty staggering.” Momentarily stunned by his distracting blue eyes, I found myself rambling again. “Do you live nearby?”

  His eyes gleamed and I practically fell into them, absorbed in the way the sky reflected in the cerulean orbs.

  “Actually,” he said, “I’ve been living in the house for a year.”

  I gave a faint gasp. “Wow! They really are like the Kennedys, letting their staff live with them. That’s fascinating.”

  He laughed abruptly and dragged a hand through his hair. Though he had grease on his hands, I couldn’t help noticing his fingers were perfect, even more manicured than my own. The Bradfords must pay really well.

  “You wanted to see the place?” he reminded me, a grin tugging at his cheeks.

  Even though he was smiling, his eyes still had the faintest hint of sadness. I studied his face, trying to pinpoint the source of the melancholy—the only flaw marring his staggering beauty. Actually, if he didn't have grease smudged on his face, he’d be handsome enough to fit right in with the Kennedy clan.

  When I realized I was staring, my cheeks flushed bright red. I forced my eyes away and clapped my palms together energetically. “Let’s get this show on the road, Gerald!”

  Chapter 5

  Rowan

  Tess—bless her heart as my mother would say—was as mistaken by my identity as she was beautiful.

  She looked to be about Asher’s age, just a few years younger than me. She spoke loudly, hands flying as she described her ideas to whom she believed to be the groundskeeper. Her tan face was so bright with vigor that I didn’t have the heart to stop her.

  It didn’t hurt that she was so easy on the eyes either. Her caramel brown hair smelled as delicious as it looked. Each time the wind blew I had to hold my breath to fight the urge to lean into her, savoring the soft hints of vanilla that wafted around me as the breeze caressed her tan skin.

  The sun had painted streaks of gold through her thick waves of caramel hair and given her skin a healthy glow. It made sense. As a florist she probably spent a lot of time outdoors.

  As I stared into her mesmerizing green eyes, I found myself wondering how long she’d been working at Mabel’s. She must be new. Bradford Cove was much too small a town for me to have not noticed someone like Tess.

  Her eyes sparkled with determination as she spoke and I just kept grinning at her, keen to let her continue. Tess was obviously enthusiastic about her job. She just jumped right in, telling me all her plans for the wedding. It seemed cruel to stop her now. Plus, it was nice to talk to someone other than my parents for a change.

  I’d been going out of my mind with boredom lately. This past year had been a Groundhog’s Day of misery and uselessness. I hadn’t done any medical work at all since I’d retreated back to Bradford Cove. I just didn’t have the heart for it.

  But this girl . . . she was all heart.

  I envied that. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t correct her when she assumed I was Gerald. Or perhaps I was just enjoying the brief reprieve she offered.

  Under Tess’s overly confident veneer, I sensed something, something that made me feel less alone. No matter how brightly she smiled, I could tell she was hiding her own scars. It was the only explanation for her overcompensation. No one got this excited about flowers.

  I wasn’t sure how, but I could sense it. She’d had her own struggles just like me, and there was something comforting in that. I found myself wanting to know what they were, what had brought her to Bradford Cove. So, instead of telling her that I wasn’t Gerald the groundskeeper, I kept my mouth shut and continued to lead her around my home.

  I’d been a Bradford long enough to know what happened when people found out just what my family ties were. Half of them suddenly turned into clams, terrified to say the wrong thing and end up on the bad side of the wealthiest family in town, and the other half turned into suck-ups just looking for favors or checks.

  I didn’t want to find out which way this vivacious woman might go.

  For now, I was content to be a groundskeeper and let her be a florist. We were just two regular people discussing a wedding.

  “Have there been any other weddings here?” Tess asked as she marched along at my side, her chin lifted as her analytical eyes swept over the property. “We could look at photos if there were and see how the previous decorations looked.”

  “Not that I know of,” I answered with a shrug.

  She sighed and chewed her bottom lip. “That’s right, you’ve only been here a year.”

  Though I felt a twinge of guilt for lying, I suppressed a smile and led her behind the main house over the lush expanse of lawn that gently sloped toward the water. Tess sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide as she took in the glory of the sun sparkling over the wate
r.

  I patiently waited for her to say something. Her reaction might give me a hint of what kind of woman she was.

  Most people assumed being a Bradford meant living a charmed life, a fairytale . . . but for me, nothing could be further from the truth. And right now, I had an insatiable need to know what Tess thought of us, of me.

  She inched closer, dropping her voice. Her emerald eyes peered up at me, a disapproving glint to them. “Have you ever seen anything like this place?” she whispered, voice traveling on the breeze.

  “Not really,” I offered honestly.

  “I mean, look at it. That’s a boathouse, right?” she asked, jerking her chin toward the nearby building. “Good Lord, the house they store their toys in is bigger than all the places I’ve ever lived in combined.”

  I choked on a shocked laugh, gazing at her. That definitely wasn’t the response I’d been expecting. Suddenly I was glad I’d let this charade continue. Talking to Tess was way more entertaining than being locked up in my room avoiding my life.

  She grinned at me, spurred on by my laughter. “I just can’t imagine living in a place like this. It must be lonely, don’t you think?” She turned back toward the main house. “I’d probably get lost in there.” She shook her head again, a sadness filling her eyes. “You could fit a dozen families inside those walls and you’d never have to see each other.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Hadn’t I said those same words countless times? It never felt right to me that we had so much more than we needed when so many others had so much less.

  “So, they just let you live here?” Tess asked, interrupting my thoughts. “Is it weird?”

  I mulled her words over before giving a sincere dip of my chin. “It can definitely feel a bit alienating.”

  Truth be told, Tess was only voicing things that I’d always felt. The ostentatious representation of our wealth and the way my family showed it off had always rubbed me the wrong way. That was part of the reason why I’d gone to Venezuela, and later Libya. I wanted to help people with less means and affluence than I had. Plus, I also wanted to be more than just a billionaire Bradford brother. I knew how much I had, and I also knew just how little most of the remaining people of the world had in comparison. I’d seen it firsthand during my work with Doctors Without Borders.

  Back then I’d been doing something with my life.

  Back then I’d been with Rachel.

  Rachel . . .

  Just thinking her name was like a punch in the gut, stealing the small moment of peace I’d allowed myself to find while I was with Tess.

  Seeming to notice the change in my mood, Tess’s voice softened. “I'm not saying this place isn’t beautiful.”

  She gave my arm a supportive pat. Her fingers were warm against my arm but slightly calloused. Tess was a woman who’d known hard work. She had a fierceness in her green gaze that not many other people from Bradford Cove had. The way she spoke was different too.

  “You’ve done a great job here,” she added with an approving nod. “Seriously, the lawn is flawless and so are the flowerbeds, but this whole place is a little over the top. And a full-page announcement for a wedding—on the front page, no less?”

  I grinned, unable to stop my chuckle. It felt so good to laugh, to let a bit of the tension I’d been carrying around the last year ease from my shoulders. “You’re not wrong,” I offered.

  She smiled and then sighed. “Sorry, I'm getting way off topic.”

  “It’s fine,” I said as we started heading back toward the house.

  “Now, for the wedding,” she continued briskly, pulling out the notebook she had tucked under her arm and running a finger down the pages. She clicked her tongue as she read through some of her notes and then looked up, squinting in the sunlight while inspecting the property. “Ivy and her husband-to-be are getting married on this part of the lawn I'm assuming?” she asked, gesturing toward the grassy plain that led to the inlet.

  “I believe that’s the plan,” I replied.

  Tess stared hard at the grass, the gears of her brain visibly turning. I watched her for a few minutes, impressed by the intensity of her focus.

  “Now we don’t have a ton of time to prepare, but I'm thinking we make a canopy of flowers.” Her eyes suddenly widened in excitement. “Wisteria or something flowy that will drape along columns or posts or whatever we set up. It’ll look like they’re floating overhead. We can even throw in some intertwined fairy lights to make a glittering wall around them.”

  “Ivy does enjoy glitter,” I mused, stroking my chin in thought.

  Tess’s ideas were big for someone in our small town. Anyone else local would’ve just suggested roses and called it a day.

  What was Tess’s story?

  It was rare to find people that I’d never met before in Bradford Cove. But then again, I’d been gone for quite some time and I’d been reclusive since my return. I supposed it wasn’t that odd that I wouldn’t know Tess Taylor.

  “Do you know Ivy Bradford well?” Tess asked, brightening.

  “You could say that,” I answered, matching her grin.

  It’d been so long since I’d smiled. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d laughed. Tess just brought it out of me. She had such a strong, fiery aura about her that it made everything feel . . . lighter.

  If she found out who I really was, would she still be so easygoing?

  “That’s wonderful!” Tess continued. “What sort of flowers or colors does she like? I have a ton of ideas jotted down, but I’d love to tailor my proposal to the bride. Mrs. Bradford didn't give me much to go on and I really want to wow her.” Tess sidled closer again as we walked, tipping her head to the side as she gazed at me curiously. “Also . . . if you don’t mind me asking, am I the only florist you’re seeing today?”

  “You certainly are,” I answered, making her suck in a shallow breath.

  The gears of her mind start whirling again. “That’s great!”

  Her enthusiasm made me feel guilty. Maybe I’d let this go too far. Her ideas for Ivy’s wedding were wonderful, but I didn’t really have the authority to weigh in on what florist to choose.

  But still, I didn’t want our time to be over yet. “Why don’t you let me show you where the reception will be,” I said, guiding Tess over to the large patio behind the house. “We can sit and chat more.”

  We stepped off the lush grass onto the cobblestone patio where a few elegant cast-iron tables and chairs were nestled. My mother loved to throw parties in the wide space that enjoyed both the sea breeze and shade from the house. It made a delightful place for guests to gather away from the relenting South Carolina sun.

  As I pulled out a chair for Tess, one of the staff rushed out and set down a big pitcher of sweet tea on the table.

  “Here you are, sir,” the girl said cheerfully before rushing away.

  Tess leaned closer, giggling under her breath. “This is so wild. I feel like I'm royalty or something. These Bradfords must really enjoy the fantasy.”

  I arched my brow. “The fantasy?”

  “They obviously enjoy living like kings and queens.” She huffed a laugh. “I was so nervous when I got here.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought I was going to have to actually talk to one of the Bradfords, but I'm glad I got to talk to a real person like you.”

  “A real person?” I asked curiously.

  She gazed at me, slowly tucking a lock of chocolate hair behind her ear. “You know what I mean. Look at this place. The Bradfords probably wouldn’t know real life if it bit them on the ass.”

  “No?”

  “Let’s just put it this way, no one who lives here has ever said ‘struggle is real’,” she teased.

  I smiled back at her, filling her glass with sweet tea. I didn’t take offense at all to what she was saying. I could completely see where she was coming from, even if she was incorrect that none of us know struggle.

  Honestly, it was refreshing to hear
someone actually speak their mind for once. People usually felt the need to tiptoe around my family so much that it was exhausting to try to have a casual conversation. But with Tess, I found myself never wanting the conversation to end. I wanted to know more about the unusual woman seated beside me.

  She was busy scribbling on one of the pages of her notebook, only stopping to take a small sip of her sweet tea. At first taste, her eyes widened and she took another gulp. “Wow!”

  “What?”

  “I still haven’t gotten used to the tea in South Carolina,” she explained. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna end up with cavities, but anything that tastes this good is worth it.”

  I laughed. “So, you’re not from around here?” That would explain why I hadn't heard of her before today.

  Tess shook her head. “I'm from Chicago.”

  Something about my question seemed to have bothered her. She fidgeted faintly in her seat, her eyes avoiding mine. I hadn’t meant to, but I could tell I’d touched a sensitive subject. I should stop. I didn’t like when people pried into my past. But I couldn’t help myself.

  “That’s a long way,” I remarked.

  She shifted again, her confident mask slipping for just a second before she stood up with a rejuvenated smile and set her notebook between us. On it, she’d made a rough sketch of drapes of flowers hanging above rows of chairs.

  “What do you think?” she asked, gazing earnestly at me, trying and succeeding to change the subject from her mysterious past.

  I understood the need for secrecy just as much as I understood her disdain for our lavish lifestyle. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I was the only one with painful skeletons in my closet.

  For now, at least, I’d let her remain a mystery.

  I shifted my gaze to her notebook, my eyebrows lifting in surprise as I stared at her work. I picked up the drawing, inspecting the drapes of blossoms. I hadn't expected to care at all about the details of the wedding, but the work that Tess had done in the last few minutes was actually pretty astounding, and it was exactly what Ivy would want. When my sister saw this, she’d be over the moon.