Stormy Surrender - By Nicole Andrews Moore Page 0,26

was that the color was all wrong for her. She should be blonde…or at the very least have some blonde highlights, maybe a couple of different shades. He shook his head to clear those thoughts. “No, I’m fine, actually.” He sat up and assessed how his head felt then shrugged. He was fine. This was also new for New Year’s Day.

“Well,” she said, “take your time waking up. I just need to find an electrician and a plumber.”

“It’s New Year’s Day,” Joe said, as though that was all the explanation she should need.

“I know. And?” She looked confused.

“And no one is going to be working today. I’m a contractor. While there are exceptions, traditionally speaking, skilled tradesmen like their alcohol.”

Her hands were on her hips. “And?”

That woman was thick and stubborn. She clearly refused to face facts. “Last night was a drinking holiday. Come on. Work with me…” He stared at her and willed her follow his line of thinking.

“So, you’re saying that no one will be working?” Marti paused while he nodded. “Well, I am. I will get as much done as I can. I need electrical and plumbing so I can move into my house.”

“Marti,” he began, as patiently as he could manage, “you need far more than that before you can move in.”

“Like what?” She truly believed that she would be able to inhabit the house just as soon as she had the basics.

He sighed. “Okay. Let’s go take a look. We’ll get a plan together and talk your project over.”

Marti smiled. She knew a contractor. This project was going to come together even more easily than she imagined. “Great.” She grabbed her coat from the closet, a notebook and pen from her suitcase, and followed him out the bedroom door.

It wasn’t until Joe made it to the front door that he realized his mistake. Keely was standing there frowning at him. He looked at Marti and made a suggestion. “What if I meet you at the house?” Joe could see that she was already so eager to be going back to her new home, her big exciting project that he doubted she would have had the patience to wait for him more than a millisecond anyway.

“Great!” She exclaimed. “Oh, do you need directions? I bought the house on Dogwood Lane.”

He shook his head. “No, I already knew that.”

She was partway out the door, but stopped and laughed. “Oh, small towns.” Then Marti skipped down the steps, hopped in her vehicle, and sped to her house just a couple miles away.

Joe was completely crestfallen. Yeah. It could be that this was a small town, or it could be that she lived directly across the road from him. He really didn’t need to go look at the house with her. He knew her house like the back of his hand. Once…nearly a lifetime ago…he had thought that he’d like to buy that same house. He had first noticed it on a visit to his father’s home one holiday. He had gone outside to smoke and been drawn to the old place. From that moment, he had dreamed of making it a home. He had even thought he might have found the girl to share that dream with. And when that dream died, and as the house fell apart before his eyes, not unlike his life, he had vowed to get rid of it. He wanted a fresh start.

The problem was that with his credit ruined, his fresh start, though in some ways free, came at a hefty price. His new beginning started when his father passed away and he inherited his father’s house in New Hope. He had stopped looking at that house with longing, stopped dreaming of a different life, and accepted the life he had. As he watched the Zen-like fusion taking place as the old place became nearly one with the yard, he comforted himself thinking that it was really too much work for any one person to do just to make it livable, and then later that it was too much house for one person to maintain. Then Marti showed up.

While he was lost in thought, Keely was busy shaking her head at him. He met her eyes. “What?” He asked confused.

“Is that your idea of an apology, Joe Masters? You say you’re sorry and then you weasel your way into staying the night. Poor Marti! This is all my fault. I made the mistake of telling you that she seemed sad and vulnerable.

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