Falling Fast (Falling Fast #1) - Tina Wainscott Page 0,25

placed a yellow notepad and a pen. “You look very beachy,” she said, taking him in.

He glanced down at the blue surfer shorts that hung halfway down his thighs and the white tank he’d thrown on. Because he wasn’t trying to impress her. “Beachy is all I’ve ever known.”

She was still taking him in. “So different from my life in Minneapolis.”

“We’re totally different, Mia.”

“Once upon a time, that didn’t matter.”

“But it should have.”

She gave him a soft look, moving toward the back doors. “Let’s start with the exterior.”

He followed her, watching the spray of hairs that had escaped her clip bounce with her movements. Her ass filled out the white shorts she wore, swaying nicely and completely natural. The blue cotton top billowed over a red tank top, revealing nothing but the slightest hint of cleavage. She’d filled in, changed, as she’d noted of him earlier. As she turned toward the house to study the eaves, he could see burn scars beneath the edge of her collar.

Guilt strangled the air from his lungs. He had to stop himself from moving closer, pulling the fabric away to see how bad it was. How far up it went. What he’d done to her.

“It looks like the siding was painted recently,” she said, jotting that down.

“That was last year’s project.”

She took in the octagonal deck with the newly stained boards. “Nice job here. You’re pretty handy with a hammer, too, it seems.”

“Done a bit of work here and there.”

The business tone softened. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“It did start out as me trying to atone.” He took her in. “Since I couldn’t do that with you. But she became the grandmother I never had.” Damn, his voice had cracked a little.

Mia’s smile widened. “It seems she saw the same thing in you that I did.”

Raleigh had to look away. He thought he’d outgrown the need for validation, for the way she made him feel valuable. But there was obviously something deep inside him that still craved it, just as it had once craved her. He focused on the house. “We didn’t get the gutters replaced.”

She moved past him, studying the windows.

“They’re hurricane-rated. Nancy said she had them replaced after Hurricane Arlene hit just west of here. She had a feeling, and, damn, was she right. That was just the beginning. We got nailed that year, one after another, including Katrina. I’d just moved into the trailer.”

“That must have been terrifying. I hope you didn’t ride out the storms in the trailer.”

“The guy who owned it invited me to hunker down at his place, so I had a backup plan. Luckily, I’m pretty far inland.”

“I always watch the news when a hurricane is headed this way. My father gave up on trying to get Grandma to leave her home when one was coming.” She flicked a glance his way. “I worried about you, too.”

Her words burrowed right into his chest. She’d thought about him. “Thank God it’s been quiet lately. I did get your grandma to agree to come inland when Karen was threatening to hit us a few years back.”

“Funny how she listened to you and not to her son.”

“I threatened to bodily carry her out if a hurricane was imminent. She knew I was serious, so she pretended it was her idea.”

Mia laughed, a sweet sound that he wanted to hold on to. “Sounds like her.”

They went around the outside and made notes about gaps and a few warped boards.

She held the notepad against her chest and looked at the front of the house. “Do you think someone will buy it and then just tear it down?” Her bee-stung lower lip jutted out in a pout. “It’s such a cute place.”

“You’re being sentimental.”

“Maybe.” She glanced across the street, where one of those contemporary skinny houses was going up on one of the many vacant lots. “But Gram’s cottage is so…Old Florida. Authentic.”

“The house isn’t in bad shape. It would make a great summer cottage. Even a vacation rental.”

The prospect made her smile. “Yeah, it would.” She positioned the notepad to write again. “The window boxes need either replacing or removing. And the planting beds could use some help.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t persuade her to get rid of those boxes. It’s hard to grow anything but native plants so close to the ocean. Even if you plant them in good soil, the salt in the air dries them out.”

“I remember her droopy flowers. She sure tried.”

He stared at the dried-up husks of

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