Baby, Come Home Read online

  “Good for you.” She straightened and picked up the tripod, then walked to another location.

  Nonplussed, Kendall followed. “I understand you’re going to rebuild the covered bridge.”

  She set down the tripod. “That’s right. Marcus called me last week and offered me the job. I take it you didn’t know?”

  Kendall bristled. “I’ve been working on something else.”

  “Does it bother you that I’m here?”

  Only every cell in his body. “Of course not. I was just…surprised to see you, that’s all.”

  “As surprised as I was to see an advertisement for single women to come to Sweetness in my local newspaper?”

  His face warmed and his mind raced for an explanation.

  Amy gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry. I figure that was Marcus’s idea, too. He seems to think you and I have some unfinished business.”

  His tongue was like lead in his mouth.

  Her berry-colored lips turned up in a little smile. “I assured him we said our goodbyes long ago.”

  He nodded, like a puppet.

  “And that it wouldn’t be a problem for us to work together on rebuilding this bridge.”

  Kendall finally found his tongue. “Right, no problem. We’re…professionals.”

  “And it’ll only be for a few weeks,” she added. “I’m thinking three months, tops.”

  He swallowed hard. He already didn’t want to think about the day she’d leave. “Meanwhile, I can’t think of anyone better to redesign Evermore Bridge.”

  When she looked up, her hazel-colored eyes held reproach. “Why?”

  He could tell she was ready to deny any emotional attachment to the bridge…or maybe he’d projected his own association with the bridge onto her. “Because you knew every stick of that bridge.”

  She nodded without acknowledging that she’d memorized the construction of the bridge during the hours they’d spent there together. “Were you planning to give the new bridge the same name— Evermore?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  She let out a little laugh that left him weak in the knees. “Do you and Marcus ever talk?”

  “There’s a lot to be done around here. We’re usually working on different things.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re Head of Picture Hanging?”

  At the reference to the injury he’d gotten hanging a picture for Rachel, a hot flush climbed his neck. “I was just doing a favor for a friend and lost my concentration.” Too late, he realized he’d made it sound as if Rachel had distracted him, when Amy herself was as least partly to blame.

  She pursed her mouth, then leaned down to take another photograph. “Could you hold up that screen again, please?”

  Kiss me again, please? Make love to me, please? He’d always teased her for saying please—as if he’d needed any encouragement to touch her or to do things that would make her happy.

  He held up the screen while she took more pictures, taking the opportunity to drink in every inch of her that was so familiar, yet so changed. She’d matured into a beautiful woman with elegant taste. Her clothes were sensible, but beautifully tailored to fit her streamlined figure. He had to smile, though, at the smudge on the collar of her blouse—Amy was still a chocoholic.

  His hands itched to brush her thick red hair away from her face and pull her lean body against his. It was jarring to realize that he no longer had the right to touch her, and he wondered what lucky man claimed that role these days. The fact that she wasn’t wearing a ring on her left hand didn’t necessarily mean anything. Lots of people whose jobs required them to be on construction sites didn’t risk wearing jewelry.

  “Did you marry?” he asked, then held his breath while she took her time answering.

  “No.”

  He exhaled and waited for her to ask the same of him. When she didn’t, he volunteered, “Neither did I…nor did my brothers.”

  She pulled a notebook from her pocket and jotted a few notes with a mechanical pencil. “According to the water tower, Porter’s pretty far gone over my friend Nikki.”

  Kendall smiled. “She’s changed him, all right.”

  The pencil point broke with a snap. Amy clicked down a new length of lead, then continued writing. “I hope she knows what she’s getting into.”

  “With Porter? It’s been six months. I think she knows him pretty well by now.”

  “I meant living here.”

  Kendall bristled. “I know the town doesn’t look like much now, but we have plans.”

  “I know. I saw the slide show on the website. Meanwhile, it’s more primitive even than when you and I grew up here.”

  He tamped down a spike of anger. “Maybe Nikki is happy in Sweetness because the man she cares about is here.”

  Amy’s mouth twitched down. “I hope that’s enough for her.”

  Kendall felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. If he’d wondered about the possibility of Amy coming home to Sweetness to stay, he had his answer. And they hadn’t even broken ground on the new bridge.

  Unless her mind could be changed. After all, his negotiating skills had been honed by some pretty serious head-butting between his brothers since they’d all taken on this project. Seizing on a classic mediation opener, he asked, “What can I do to make your job easier?”

  She looked up from the notebook, her expression wary. “I think I have everything I need for now.” She tucked away her notes, then picked up the tripod and moved in the direction of the all-terrain vehicle she’d driven over. Kendall followed her, carrying the folding screen.

  He was mesmerized by watching her move. He still couldn’t believe she was here…within arm’s reach. There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, find out everything about her life since he’d last seen her. But from the closed expression on her face and her tight body language, she wasn’t in a sharing mood. And she didn’t seem to care what he’d been doing for the past twelve years.

  She stopped at the four-wheeler and lifted the seat to stow her camera equipment, then reached for the folding screen he held. “Thanks.”

  Then she climbed on, started the engine and took off before he could even reach the ATV he’d driven over. He goosed the gas to keep up with her, flashing back to when they were teenagers, riding horses all over this countryside. He had always lagged behind on purpose, so he could see Amy’s wild hair fly behind her and watch her tight little behind snug against the saddle. He’d loved chasing her…and apparently things hadn’t changed—except for the catching part. He followed her back to the construction office, saddened when the ride ended, already loath to be away from her.

  She was off the ATV and striding toward town before he could regroup.

  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he called. “Maybe we can catch up.”

  She turned, still moving, her hands full of equipment. “No, thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep things between us strictly business. I’ll see you on the jobsite.” Then she turned and kept going.

  Kendall watched her walk away and had to keep himself from running after her. He hadn’t been successful in convincing Amy to stay in Sweetness last time. But he had three months to do it this time.

  Starting with dinner tonight with Porter and Nikki.

  6

  Amy looked at her reflection in the mirror in her bedroom and worked her mouth back and forth. Was a skirt too dressy for dinner with Nikki downstairs in the rear great room? It seemed like a pretty casual atmosphere, but since Amy was usually in sturdy, sensible clothes on jobsites during the day, she tried to dress up after hours. The memory of standing in the shadow of Kendall’s splashy “friend” Rachel cinched her decision not only to go with the outfit as planned, but to add hoop earrings, high heels and the Topaz ring that Tony had given her for Christmas. It was always better to be overdressed than underdressed.

  She glanced at her watch—she was still twenty minutes early. Enough time to call Tony, she realiz
ed, although it wasn’t something she was looking forward to under the circumstances. Guilt stabbed at her, impelling her to pick up her cell phone and punch in his number. When the phone rolled over to his voice mail, she wondered if he was really busy, or if he was avoiding her calls. He hadn’t been overjoyed about her leaving Broadway without him and had asked a lot of questions. Had he picked up on the fact that she hadn’t been completely forthcoming about her connection to the town for which she was building a bridge?

  “Hi, sweetie, it’s me.” She wet her lips. “I just wanted to let you know that I made it to Sweetness, Georgia, and I have cell phone service, so call me whenever you want to.” She hesitated, knowing how much he disliked her being too effusive, but it had been an emotional day. “I love you,” she murmured, then disconnected the call, her heart squeezing over all the conflict they’d endured the past year, for which she felt largely responsible. She was looking forward to better times once she returned to Broadway…once she got some closure on the situation with Kendall Armstrong.

  She walked across the second-floor bedroom she’d been assigned—a pretty room decorated in chocolate-brown and sage-green—and glanced out the window, down at the new town of Sweetness. Dusk was settling quickly. A tall light illuminated the area in front of the boardinghouse. Across the street, the dining hall was lit up, and the headlights of two cars rolling down the main street cast beams on what appeared to be freshly painted pedestrian crosswalks.

  The town would need sidewalks soon. In her mind, she visualized the wooden forms that would have to be built to contain the leveled concrete snaking down both sides of the asphalt road. She could pour them in her sleep, even in this cold weather, and she could incorporate recycled materials like tumbled glass to give them a custom look. Maybe she’d suggest to Marcus—

  Amy caught herself. This wasn’t her town, and she wasn’t about to start making suggestions that would add projects to her to-do list. She was here to design a covered bridge—in and out.

  She stepped back from the window and walked into the bathroom to frown at her auburn hair that was showing increasing signs of frizz. All those rainy, snowy days in Broadway, and she was able to keep it under control. A few hours in this place in the dead of winter, and it was already kinking up like a pig’s tail.

  She sighed and ran a boar bristle brush through her thick tresses, knowing it would buy her only a few minutes of smoothness, at best. Then she left her room and descended the stairs to the first floor in search of Nikki. Along the way, she passed several women, all smiling and laughing and apparently happy to be there, lots of children who seemed to travel in friendly packs, and a few men who were apparently only visiting because, as she’d read in the boardinghouse rules, males were not allowed in the boardinghouse overnight.

  A quaint regulation…very Southern…but comforting, Amy acknowledged. And clever, because it would spur the town to grow faster since couples who wanted to live together had no choice but to build their own home. She wondered if Nikki and Porter were on the fast track to marriage. She also wondered if Nikki realized what a feat she’d accomplished to corral one of the Armstrong brothers. They had always been the most confirmed bachelors in town. She knew that firsthand.

  But what had Kendall said? That Nikki had changed Porter. Just thinking about it made her cheeks sting. It left her feeling inadequate that she hadn’t been able to change Kendall.

  She found Nikki in the crowded common kitchen, sliding a pan into one of the large ovens. The atmosphere was festive and aromas tantalizing as women crowded around pots of pasta and shared thick chunks of warm bread. A couple of children ran through, snagging brownies from a plate. Amy looked after the laughing children with a tug of longing that she squashed as quickly as it rose. The family environment took her by surprise, and she could see why it would appeal to some people. But the trade-off was living in a fishbowl where opportunities were limited. She hadn’t left to educate herself only to come back and settle for something less than she could become.

  “I hope Chicken Kiev is okay,” Nikki said, her cheeks pink from the heat. “I don’t have much of a cooking repertoire.”

  Amy gave a little laugh. “That sounds pretty impressive to me. I usually eat frozen dinners. What can I do to help?”

  “Pick up those wineglasses and follow me,” Nikki said, nodding to the countertop. She picked up a bottle of wine and a corkscrew and turned toward the opposite doorway.

  Amy frowned at the number of wineglasses—four—but gathered them in her hands and followed Nikki down a hallway into the rear great room that apparently served as the main gathering place for residents to dine and watch TV. The computers that lined one wall were another surprise. The new Sweetness was wired and perhaps not as isolated as she’d imagined.

  Nikki stopped at a square wooden table situated away from other tables and chairs that were largely occupied. From all the couples dining together, Amy surmised the ploy to bring women to Sweetness as companions for the Armstrongs’ workers had succeeded. Noticing the four salads on their own table, Amy balked. “Is someone joining us?”

  Nikki cut the foil on a bottle of wine. “I hope you don’t mind if Porter eats with us. We typically have dinner together.”

  “No, that’s fine.” Although she was a little disappointed that she and Nikki wouldn’t be able to catch up, she understood that she was the interloper here. Before she could ask about the fourth place setting, Nikki beamed at someone behind Amy.

  “Here’s Porter now.”

  Amy turned and smiled at Porter, who’d been a fresh-faced sophomore when she’d last seen him. He’d filled out and matured, but his wide grin and cleft chin were still prominent and recognizable, along with those infamous blue Armstrong eyes.

  “Amy Bradshaw,” he said, extending both his hands to her and lowering a kiss on her cheek. “You grew up good.”

  She blushed. “Still the sweet talker, Porter. The years have been kind to you, you devil.”

  “I never thought I’d see you in Sweetness again.”

  “That makes two of us,” she quipped. “Marcus can be persuasive.”

  He grinned. “That isn’t the word I’d use, but Marcus seems to know how to get things done. And what good luck that you and my Nikki are friends.”

  It was so like a Southern man to refer to his girlfriend in a possessive way. Amy expected Nikki to take offense at the “my” part, but instead she seemed inordinately pleased as Porter pulled her to his side for a squeeze.

  Amy smiled. “Yes, it’s…fortuitous.”

  “Anyway, it’s great to see you again.” He looked down at Nikki. “Who’s our fourth for tonight?”

  “That would be me.”

  Amy tensed at the sound of Kendall’s voice behind her. She slowly turned to see him, dressed in chino pants and filling out a deep blue collared shirt that reflected his eyes perfectly. He looked so handsome, her throat closed.

  “If that’s okay with Amy,” he added, pinning her with his steady gaze.

  “I invited Kendall,” Nikki said cheerfully. “To help welcome you home.”

  Amy’s cheeks flamed. Nikki was the only one in their foursome who didn’t know she and Kendall had a history and had parted on less-than-friendly terms…unless Porter had filled her in.

  “That was kind of you,” Amy managed to say. “Of course it’s fine.” She wasn’t going to be able to avoid Kendall, so she might as well get used to acting as if he didn’t affect her.

  As if he didn’t make her heart race and her body warm with unbidden desire, just like old times.

  Kendall gave her a little smile, as if he knew how much being nice was costing her. Then he stepped forward and handed Nikki a white bakery box.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Something for dessert.”

  “How nice,” Nikki said. “Let me put this in the refrigerator and check on our dinner. Porter, will you pour the wine, please?”

  “Sure thing, baby,” he drawled, b
ut watched her until she left the room before turning back to them and the wine. As he uncorked the bottle, he whistled happily under his breath.

  Baby. Kendall used to call her baby, Amy recalled. She darted a look at him, but when she saw he was looking at her, she glanced all around, settling on the ceiling. “Nice trusses,” she offered. “Is this a modular building?”

  Kendall nodded. “The clinic, too. And the General Store. We used reclaimed materials for siding on all the buildings except the clinic.”

  “I could tell,” Amy said. “Are you planning to incorporate any reclaimed materials in the covered bridge?”

  “We’ve been putting aside any boards we find that might’ve been used in the original bridge in the Lost and Found warehouse.”

  She nodded. “I read on the website about the place where you’re storing things you find so former residents can claim them.”

  “You’re welcome to walk through the warehouse,” Kendall said, “or look over the lists to see if you recognize anything that might’ve belonged to your family.”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but there’s nothing from here that I want.” When she realized how brusque she sounded, she conjured up a little smile. “But I’d like to see the materials you have set aside for the bridge.”

  “I seem to remember the two of you hanging out at the bridge a lot,” Porter offered.

  Amy swung her head to stare at him and felt Kendall’s gaze follow hers. Porter looked back and forth between them, his expression innocent as he handed each of them a glass of red wine. “Oh, so we’re not supposed to talk about the elephant in the room?”

  “What elephant in the room?” Nikki asked, returning.

  “Amy and Kendall used to be a hot item,” Porter said nonchalantly, then handed her a glass of wine.

  Nikki’s mouth rounded and she shot Amy an apologetic glance.

  “It was a long time ago,” Amy said quickly.

  “To old times,” Kendall said, lifting his glass, “and to building bridges.”

  She couldn’t very well decline the toast, Amy thought wryly, lifting her glass to clink with the others. The bandage on Kendall’s thumb reminded her of his “favor” for Rachel Hutchins, and she took a deeper drink than she’d meant to.