The Freeman Brothers: A Secret Baby Romance Collection

by Natasha L. Black

  “We’re picking up some pastries to bring back to the racing compound,” Nick said.

  Minnie’s eyes lit up. “You should come! If you’re trying to find something to do today, come on out to the compound. We’re putting on a lunch for the employees and their families. We always have a lot of fun.”

  I looked over at Nick. He was smiling and nodded, so I nodded as well.

  “Sure,” I said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Absolutely,” Minnie said. “You’ll love it.”

  She smiled again and headed off to the counter to pick up her order. Nick leaned down like he wanted to say something without his mother hearing him.

  “My mother gets a little enthusiastic when she meets people,” he said. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

  “No,” I said. “It really does sound like fun. Unless you don’t want me there.”

  He shook his head almost too emphatically. “No, I definitely think you should come. Like Mom said, we always have a good time.”

  That second sentence sounded almost like it was tacked onto the first with an afterthought. I resisted the wider smile trying to make its way onto my face.

  “She said it’s a racing compound?” I asked.

  “My family owns Freeman Racing. It’s a motorcycle racing company,” Nick said. “I’m the only one who doesn’t still work for the company.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I think Lindsey mentioned something like that to me when I was waiting for you at the bar. That must be really interesting. I’ve never been around anything like that before.”

  I drank my coffee and ate my éclair while I waited for the bakery to finish filling the large order for Nick and his mother. We each walked out carrying a couple of boxes. Nick had twice as many as I was carrying, but his long, strong arms could handle it. I helped them carry the boxes to their waiting car and said I’d follow them to the complex.

  I had no idea what to expect, but when we got there, we pulled up to a sprawling, beautiful compound. I spent a good bit of time just walking around taking in the surroundings. There were garages and machinery, but they were clean and well kept. The massive practice track was a counterpoint to the beautiful pond and walking trail beyond it.

  As I wandered around, I tried to imagine Nick working on a motorcycle the way some of the other guys and a woman he introduced me to named Kelly were. I couldn’t get my mind around it. Maybe that was why he didn’t work at the complex with the rest of his family.

  We all gathered together in a massive field at the center of the complex to eat. When we finished, Nick invited me down to the pond for a walk. As we walked away from the field, I noticed Quentin wink at his brother. Nick didn’t react, and I brushed the gesture aside.

  “Why don’t you work here with the rest of your family?” I asked as we strolled along. “Do you not like racing?”

  “It’s not that,” Nick said. “I mean, I’m not as into it as the rest of them are. But I still love it. I come out and help with things sometimes, and I like going to the events. I just didn’t want to wrap my entire life around the company. I didn’t want to work for my parents, then when Quentin took over, I didn’t want to work for him.”

  “But you all seem so close,” I said.

  “We are,” he said. “And that’s why I didn’t want to work with them. I didn’t want it to seem like any success I got I only had because of my family. It was important to me to branch out and find something that was mine. Something that I could work toward and achieve by myself. Even though Quentin has made this company much bigger and more successful than my parents ever did, it’s still built on the foundation they made. Everything he accomplishes is still tied to them. I wanted to feel like I did something on my own. Something that was just mine. That might sound ridiculous.”

  I shook my head. “No. It doesn’t sound ridiculous at all. I completely understand.” We walked along for a few more quiet moments, then stood at the edge of the pond. I looked up at him. “Thank you for letting me hang out this afternoon.”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “I’m glad you came.”

  We spent a little while down at the pond, and then he walked me back up to the parking lot.

  “Tell your parents thank you for having me,” I said.

  “I will,” Nick said. “I’ll be sure to keep you up-to-date on everything that’s going on when I get more information.”

  I nodded, realizing I hadn’t thought about any of that the entire afternoon.

  “Thank you,” I said. Giving into a compulsion I maybe should have resisted a little more, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

  I climbed in my car and drove away, not letting myself look back to see his reaction.

  10

  Nick

  Sunday mornings were the one time during the week when I usually let myself sleep in a bit. Burying myself in work meant I had to get up early in order to get to the office on time. Saturdays were usually about running all those errands adults have to do to keep their life rolling. And if I wasn’t engaged in such a glamorous activity as going to the grocery store or doing my laundry, I was usually doing something with the family.

  There might be a race or an exhibition, or they could use extra help with one of the bikes or running practices. Sometimes it was like the day before when we all got together for a lunch to thank the staff. All that meant Sundays were my one day to try to catch up on all that sleep my body wanted but I rarely gave it. That Sunday I didn’t really get the chance.

  I was in the middle of a particularly nice dream when the sound of my phone jostled me awake. I wanted to just turn it off and bury myself back under the pillows, but that wasn’t an option. My clients almost never contacted me on the weekend, much less on a Sunday, but it was always possible. If it was an emergency, I didn’t want to miss the call and cause a calamity.

  And if it was one of my brothers, which was the far more likely possibility, they wouldn’t take the hint just by me not answering the phone. They would just keep calling back incessantly until I finally gave in and or the phone ran out of battery.

  I grabbed my phone and looked at the screen. Just like I thought, it was my youngest brother Darren.

  “Hey, Darren,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

  “Were you still asleep?” he asked.

  “Kind of,” I said.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll call you back later,” he said.

  “It’s fine. I’m awake now. What’s up?”

  “I was calling to see if you wanted to take a ride this morning. The weather is really beautiful, and we haven’t gotten out on the road together in a while.”

  The thought of getting on the back of a motorcycle and just letting the wind fly around me sounded pretty good. We would go out onto the backgrounds of the complex where there were roads nobody else accessed. It let us really open up the machines and push them to their limits without risk of other drivers getting in the way.

  “Sure,” I said. “That sounds great. I’ll get ready and I’ll give you a call when I’m heading out.”

  “See you soon,” my brother said.

  I got out of bed and went to the kitchen for my first cup of coffee of the day. I was fairly impressed with myself that I had managed to carry on an actual conversation without even one sip of caffeine.

  After getting a cup in, I dressed and stuffed my feet down into my black leather motorcycle boots. I had just grabbed my jacket and was shrugging into it when my phone rang. Thinking it might be Darren checking in on me, I grabbed it up and answered without looking at the screen.

  “I’m heading out of the house right now,” I said.

  “Oh, well, that’s impressive, considering I didn’t even ask you to meet me yet,” a voice said on the other end.

  It took me a few seconds for the voice to sync in pass my expectation of Darren so I could recognize it.

  “Hey, Clint,” I said. “How are you doing?”

 
It was Gabe’s friend in the police department.

  “Doing okay this morning. As your clairvoyance has apparently told you, I was calling to ask you to meet up with me so we could have a talk.”

  I smiled at the teasing in his booming voice. “My clairvoyance also tells me I see donuts in my future.”

  He let out a theatrical gasp. “You truly have a gift. I was going to say we could meet at the donut shop next to the police station. Mind blown.”

  I laughed. “I’m actually heading out right now to do a ride with Darren, but I can make it a quick one and then head out there to meet you. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

  “Alright. It’s a long commute from my office, so make sure I have plenty of notice,” Clint said.

  The shop was literally thirty steps from his desk.

  “Will do. See you in a bit.”

  I hopped in my truck and headed for the complex. Calling Darren right before I got there meant he already had two bikes out and ready to ride. We put on our helmets and shot out across the pavement toward the back roads. We weren’t able to talk over the roar of the engines and the rush of the wind around us, but it still felt good to have my brother right there with me.

  We rode for almost an hour, and then I got back into my truck and headed for town. Clint was walking out of the police station when I parked my truck.

  “I see you managed that overwhelming journey just fine,” I said, reaching out my hand to shake his.

  “The power of determination,” he said, giving my hand a firm shake and clapping me on my shoulder.

  He gestured ahead of him, and I led the way into the donut shop. Anyone visiting might have thought it was a brilliant business move for someone to build a donut shop right next to a police station. After all, the constant stream in and out of the shop showed a police officer’s affinity toward donuts wasn’t just a stereotype. But the less interesting truth was the shop had been there since the fifties, and the police station was the one that moved in after.

  Clint and I went up to the counter and ordered coffee and donuts, then found a quiet table and sat down. “So, I have some news.”

  “Alright,” I said.

  “I looked into everything Gabe told me and ran it by a couple other people at the station. Anonymously, of course. Now, we didn’t get a chance to go into any real depth, and we’re not lawyers, but as far as we can tell, it seems there aren’t any laws broken here on the part of the investor.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It doesn’t look like he did anything illegal. He just didn’t know how to handle the money and put it into some bad investments. It sucks, but it happens,” he said.

  “I’m familiar. So, that’s it? Nothing can be done?” I asked.

  “Well, if you can prove this Justin guy took her money without her consent, we can arrest him. But the investor is a dead end,” Clint said.

  I bobbed my head as I took a couple bites of my chocolate glazed. “You’re a smart guy, Clint. You planned this well. Over coffee and donuts is the only way bad news should be shared.”

  “It’s not what you were hoping to hear, I know,” he said. “But really have her consider filing theft charges. Those are valid, and it would at least be something.

  “Thanks. I appreciate you looking into it for me,” I said.

  I wasn’t happy. My initial impressions from what the papers said, and then my conversation with my former boss, really made me think there was something illegal going on with the investor. Now that was a bust, and I was going to have to tell Bryn.

  Rather than heading home, I drove out to the mountains so I could visit my favorite spot. I always kept climbing gear in my car in case I felt the urge to go up into the cliffs. It paid off now as I took off my jacket and replaced my boots with climbing shoes.

  Telling Bryn wasn’t going to be easy, but I also felt like there was something else about this I needed to figure out. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. Attaching my equipment, I headed up the face of the cliff. Climbing helped me puzzle out the problem as I made my way up. It was meditative for me. I spent my time thinking about everything Bryn went through. Then how I was going to handle this new development with Bryn.

  11

  Bryn

  There were many ways I enjoyed waking up in the morning. The smell of fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen. The smell of bacon getting crispy and amazing in a skillet. Birds singing. Waves crashing. Music.

  A sudden surge of nausea was not one of them. There wasn’t really ever a time when I enjoyed the feeling of impending sickness but getting thrashed out of sleep by it was definitely the worst. And that was exactly how Monday started for me. I was sleeping peacefully, having a perfectly nice dream, when my stomach rolled over and the feeling that I was about to empty everything inside me rushed up.

  It startled me awake, and I tumbled out of bed. Rushing for the bathroom, I was never happier about the attached bath in my bedroom.

  The rippling in my stomach I had been feeling on and off for a few days came to full fruition for the next half an hour. I stayed on the cold tile floor of my bathroom for another twenty minutes just to make sure it was all over, then dragged myself up. Leaning on the sink, I filled my palm with water, tipped it into my mouth, and swished it around. I spit it out and rinsed a couple more times.

  The cool water perked me up just enough that I could get out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom. I flopped facedown in my bed and lay there for another fifteen minutes trying to convince myself I felt better. When that didn’t happen, I made the executive decision I was going to take ahalf-day from work. This was not the kind of mindset I wanted to be in while I was trying to manage complicated coding.

  Turning the notifications on my phone off, I pulled the covers up over my head and went back to sleep. As it turned out, this also wasn’t the kind of mindset I needed to turn the notifications off. Instead, I managed to turn them on even louder. Which resulted in my phone screaming at me and jostling me out of sleep for the second unpleasant time that day.

  Not wanting to open my eyes, I felt around on my bed until I found my phone. I peeked at the screen and noticed it was almost noon. Just prying my eyelids up that tiny amount let a new wave of nausea roll over me, and I squeezed them down again. The phone could scream all it wanted. I wasn’t going to talk to anybody until it didn’t feel like I was on a ship tossing around in an angry storm.

  Finally, it felt like I had control over my stomach, and I was able to open my eyes all the way without needing to rush back into the bathroom. It was enough to let me check my phone. I had a text from Nick asking for another meeting. It seemed like we had the same conversation over and over. I wished he would come up with something more creative to say, though I wasn’t really sure what. It wasn’t like he was asking me out or trying to win me over. He was being professional and finding time to talk about the situation at hand.

  The thought of going to his office was out of the question. Considering a visit to the bar was even worse. As much as I wanted to know how the circumstances were unfolding and if anything new had happened, I had no interest in putting on real clothes or seeing a bunch of people.

  I responded to the message explaining I was feeling ill and wasn’t going to be able to leave the house. The original plan was just to ask for a meeting in the coming days. But apparently my fingers were taking full advantage of my brain not working at peak functioning. They typed out my address and invited Nick over.

  He messaged back that he would be over at two. That gave me enough time to slide into a bath and try not to slip beneath the surface and drown. When I managed to get out of the bathtub alive, I got dressed in a fresh set of yoga pants and a tank top, threw a lightweight cardigan over it, and went into the kitchen to make tea.

  The smell of the tea didn’t make my stomach completely protest, and I realized it was actually rumbling just slightly. Because there was always the possibility that the rumble was just another wave of sick
ness getting ready to wash over me, I had to be cautious.

  Dry toast. That was what I needed. I piled a few slices up on a plate and put them on a tray along with the teapot and two cups. I managed to get them all the way into the living room and set it down on the coffee table with slightly shaking hands.

  Curling up on the couch, I sipped a cup of my favorite peppermint tea. It went down smooth and settled my stomach. Partway through my second cup, I picked up a slice of toast and started nibbling. I was gradually working my way around the crust when I heard a knock on the front door. I tossed my partial piece of toast onto the plate, set my cup down, and reluctantly went to the front door.

  Fortunately, I got to the door without any more uprisings from my stomach. I unlocked it and looked out at Nick. His expression didn’t seem particularly happy. That didn’t make me feel too optimistic. I gestured for him to follow me inside and made my way back to the couch.

  “Hold on,” I said. “I want to be sitting for this.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, closing the door behind him and following me into the living room.

  I got to the couch and curled back up into my favorite corner. Tugging the blanket folded across the back and down over me, I reached for my toast and tea.

  “You don’t look like you come bearing good news. I’m already feeling pretty terrible. I’d rather get let down while I’m sitting,” I said. “Tea?”

  “Sure. That sounds good,” he said.

  I gestured to the pot and cup on the tray. “Help yourself. It’s peppermint. There’s some honey if you want it sweeter.”

  “Thanks,” he said, pouring himself a cup and sitting down on the other end of the couch. He took a sip of the tea, then stared down into the cup and nodded like it was a completely new experience for him and he was trying to decide if he liked it or not. “Well, I wish I could tell you that you were wrong.”