Free His Southern Sweetheart by Carolyn Hector Page A

the corners of the barn. A small camera could fit somewhere in the rafters or in the bales of hay. Shouldn’t he see a red light flashing if he was being filmed? None captured his attention.
    With a groan he rose from the lumpy, plaid, orange-and-brown couch he’d slept on and stretched, feeling every bit of his twenty-eight years. To be kind, the old double-crib barn was cozy. These buildings housed livestock back in the day but the latest trend was to convert these two-story structures into livable spaces to rent out for extra cash. Last night had not gone according to plan, at least not Nate’s plan. The old army blanket and sheets folded on top of the glass coffee table indicated the night had gone as planned for Amelia. Her idea of revenge was buying him for forty hours of what? Community service? For a chance to be with her again, he would have paid.
    The pressure of the springs against his back relieved once he rolled his head from side to side until a crack sounded off. A water heater set up in one of the corners of the barn cranked to life, flushing water from the pipes. Outside the dusty window of the barn, Nate spied a light coming from a rectangular window upstairs. He moved from the couch to the window.
    In an unfair torture treatment, Amelia’s naked frame crossed by the window. She had to be unaware of the view she gave him. In the reflection of the mirror, a perfectly shaped breast bounced as she fingered her strands of hair underneath a pink shower cap. As she stood in front of the mirror, making sure none of her strands were exposed, Nate enjoyed the image of her heart-shaped behind facing him. His fingers tingled with the memory of her delicate, soft skin against his rough hands. One caress of her skin soothed him to the bone. Speaking of, Nate glanced down at himself and shook his head at the uncontrollable desire she evoked from him with the distant observation. He couldn’t recall the last time his body responded to a woman without her touching him. And given the cold shoulder she’d presented to him last night, touching him seemed to be the last thing on Amelia’s mind.
    Nate considered ducking from the window when Amelia turned from the mirror, but realized she couldn’t see him being a peeper. Once the reflection of the daisy-patterned shower curtain moved, steam stained the mirror.
    A breeze blew from the screen door of the breezeway. The scent of strong coffee flowed from the open window in the house next door. Nate rolled his head around on his neck and tried to recite the starting lineup for the Miami Marlins to take his mind off the adolescent effect of Amelia’s nudity. Once he was able to walk straight, he grabbed his Timberland boots, jeans and red-and-white striped shirt before heading off toward the scent. Nate always kept a spare change of clothes in his gym bag in the trunk of his car on the occasions he needed to spend the night elsewhere.
    Like the barn, the breezeway seemed to have become a storage space for old things. The screen siding of the outdoor hallway did not seem like a wise place for an old juke box or records. Southwood wasn’t too far away from the Florida border and still received torrential downpours of rain during the hurricane season. Whatever Amelia had planned for him, he made a mental note to move the equipment to a drier space.
    Four steps led up to the kitchen door. A small, square doggy door flapped as he opened the door. If the size of the pooch door gave any indication, there wouldn’t be a monster inside waiting to eat him for entering unannounced. But then again, didn’t the pot of coffee brewing on the marbled countertop seem welcoming? A circular table sat with the leaf side against the wall for more space in the kitchen. The wood flooring appeared to be in good shape, not creaking when he stepped farther inside. A significant amount of care had gone in to the wooden cabinets. Brass knobs new and shiny. A