“Did you want to eat in the sunroom off the kitchen?” he asked, gesturing to the room.
She nodded and slid off the stool. He handed her a plate and she followed him. The food looked good—pancakes, sausage and bacon and cheese eggs. Yes!
“How did you know I like cheese eggs?” she asked.
“I know that Stonewall prefers his cooked that way, so I took a chance you would, too.”
She did. Granny Kay always prepared cheese eggs for her and Stonewall when they were growing up. The fact that Dak knew that about her, made her feel warm and tingly inside. “I do. Thank you.”
“Here we are.”
Mellie glanced around at Dak’s sunroom. It was in the shape of an octagon, with walls that were made up predominantly with large panes of glass, and a beautifully tiled floor. The view outside of the windows showcased a beautifully landscaped yard under a gorgeous Vermont sky. It was as if she’d just entered heaven.
• • •
“Is anything wrong, Amelia?”
Dak watched as she glanced all around. “This room is beautiful, Dak. It doesn’t look real. The view outside is like something in a painting or a postcard. Who has a waterfall in their yard? I’ve seen fountains before, but never a waterfall. It has to be more than one-hundred feet tall.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute as he placed his meal on the wicker table. “It’s actually one hundred and forty. I designed it myself.”
Her brow lifted. “You did?”
“Yes. Come on and eat before your food gets cold. I started the coffee earlier. How would you take yours?” he asked, walking over to the coffee cart.
“Black with sugar is good.”
Dak chuckled as he poured. “Just the way Stonewall likes his.”
Why did he keep bringing up her brother? Did he subconsciously assume that mentioning Stonewall would keep him in line and remind him just who she was? Namely, his friend’s sister?
Instead, he should be trying to take Amelia for who she was—the beautiful woman he wanted. And that desire was growing by the second.
Work kept him too busy to date much. When a social affair called for a plus one, he’d find a companion, but it was only for the night, and meant nothing more than that. The only time he gave up any of his real, uninterrupted time to spend with a woman was one week each year, when he’d whisk her away to some exotic locale. And then it was over.
He was basically a loner and liked things that way. Serious relationships could get messy. Women wanted men to fall in love and he didn’t think he was capable of loving anyone.
“There are a lot of things Stonewall likes that I don’t,” Amelia said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Such as?” he asked, returning to the table with their coffee.
“He loves raw oysters, and I don’t. He also likes beer and I detest the stuff.”
He slid into the chair across from her. “Anything you like that he doesn’t?”
“Yes, pickles. Oh, and cauliflower. No matter how you prepare it, he won’t touch it.” She paused a moment and then asked, “Ready to say grace?”
There was no need to tell her that he hadn’t ever said grace until he’d met Stonewall, who’d explained it as part of their upbringing. Granny Kay had certain rules during dinner and saying grace was one of them. You didn’t dare place anything in your mouth without first giving thanks for it. Since his time with Stonewall, Dak had gotten used to doing it, and the few times he’d almost forgotten, he could have sworn he’d caught a glimpse of Granny Kay’s frown out the corner of his eye. Like all of Stonewall’s friends, he loved the old woman.
“I’m ready,” he said, bowing his head.
Her prayer was a little longer than the ones Stonewall would mumble. He cocked an eye open when she not only blessed the food but also the hands that prepared it. The corners of his lips lifted in a smile. She was talking about him—his hands. Stonewall had never included that part.
“Everything looks good, Dak. I never took you for the domesticated type.”
That made him wonder just what type she did take him for. He figured after spending a week with her, he would find out. Then again, she’d hinted more than once that the jury was still out as to whether or not she would fly to Bali with him tomorrow. He shrugged. If she didn’t, some other woman would. Even if it was last minute. But then, he grudgingly admitted that he didn’t want some other woman. He wanted Amelia to spend a week with him. That was the only real chance he had to finally get her out of his system.
“I love cooking. It’s one of the pitfalls—or pleasures, as I see it now—of being Michael Navarro’s son. Dad loved to cook and passed his passion for it on to me.”
“Tell me about him.”
What? His hands went still as he held his fork halfway to his mouth.
He kept his family history private—always. He didn’t share his background with anyone, if he could help it. Then he remembered the conversation he and Amelia had had last weekend. On their way from the wedding to the reception, they had talked, and he’d shared portions of his past with her. It had been right after she’d confessed to losing her parents during a hurricane in Miami. Talking about his father at that time had seemed natural.
He could tell her any discussion of his father, other than what he’d already let slip, was off limits. But then, he could clearly recall one night in Dubai when he’d talked too much. That evening, over a bottle of bourbon that had given Stonewall one hell of a hangover, Dak had let his guard down and shared a lot about himself. Stonewall had done the same. In their lifetimes, both men had seen and done a lot. Some of those experiences had made them stronger, others had made them cautious. That night, Dak had explained to his hungover friend the reasons why he preferred not to make any woman a permanent part of his life. Had Stonewall ever said anything about it to Amelia? No. He wouldn’t have...
“What do you want to know about my father?” he asked. It no longer surprised him that whenever he mentioned his father, he would immediately think of Michael Navarro—not Larry Smalls. Larry had only been in his life for the first seven years and Dak’s memories of that time weren’t good. There was Larry’s excessive drinking, and the constant moving from place to place whenever rent was due. Dak remembered going to bed hungry most nights and getting a backhanded slap if he complained. Then, of course, there was Larry Small’s constant sermons on the evils of women and relationships. For Dak, living with Larry had been hell. And the man who’d had the greatest positive impact on his life had been Michael Navarro.
“Whatever you want to tell me.”
He brought the fork to his mouth and began eating, thinking about it. It was strange that she should make that request while they were out here, in this private place, where he could glance out at the waterfall he’d built in his father’s honor. What was even stranger was that he was even entertaining her question. He figured Stonewall had told her some things and she wanted him to fill in the rest. She’d caught him in a good place. Whenever he came out here, he felt his father’s presence even though Michael Navarro hadn’t lived long enough to see it.
As he finished chewing, he glanced over at Amelia. She was watching him expectantly. Hell, why not? “I owe Michael Navarro everything, Amelia. Before he came into my life, my biological father, Larry Small, and I moved from place to place, barely keeping ahead of the bill collectors. I never even went to school, because we never stayed in one place for any length of time. Needless to say, Larry didn’t look after me very well.”