Stormy Surrender - By Nicole Andrews Moore Page 0,28

to experience it. He was uptight. He was miserable. And part of her considered that this might be the best way for them to part. The other part of her was terrified that she was lost and alone in a strange new world. While some aspects of New Hope were so wonderful and welcoming, there were aspects of the south in general that had her marveling that she hadn’t needed a passport to enter.

Now, she would have to cope with living across the road from the one man who managed to get under her skin. He could be infuriating, as exhibited by their interactions in the café. And at the same time, last night he had shown her a different side. He could be charming, but not in the way that made her want to shower after to wash away the slime. There was something honest about him. And that was a quality that she could treasure after so many years of dishonesty from the man she was married to. While marriage made Blaine her husband, she never called him that. In all the years that they had been together, he never felt like he was hers. That’s why she never called him that. With the text message, she was simply reminded that whatever tenuous hold she had on him, it might very well be coming to an end. And all she could do was sigh and press on.

“Okay then,” she said after expelling the longest sigh of her life. She turned on her heels and headed back into the house. She paused just as she was walking through the front door when she realized he wasn’t behind her. Looking over her shoulder at him she called, “Are you coming?”

Smiling, he walked across the lawn, and entered the house. It was tough being back in there. Joe had always imagined Finn in that space. He actually had to rub his chest; his heart hurt so much to think about it. He realized that Marti was watching him then. She was far too observant. He could almost hear the wheels turning as he moved to rub his jaw instead.

“Look,” he pointed out, as he motioned over his shoulder. “I think we can safely agree that the porch is a hazard. The whole thing needs to be replaced, right down to the sinking foundation. And it’s not just the porch foundation that’s sinking. The whole house needs to be leveled before you do anything.”

“Anything?” She asked, doubtful.

“Anything,” he assured her. “You need to get a foundation guy out here tomorrow. Don’t worry. I have a guy I trust. He’ll give you a fair price. He’ll come out here with some shovels, some excavating equipment and a truckload of cement piers.” He looked at her. She had a pen and paper in her hand, but she wasn’t writing anything down. “Are you going to take notes?”

Marti colored slightly. She was so focused on him, too focused on him. There was something about the confidence and ease with which he spoke about the house that was incredibly attractive. “Oh, right.” So she opened the notebook and began writing as he spoke.

They went room by room, and the assessment was far worse than she imagined. Some of the information he supplied confused her. How could he know without even looking that all the copper pipes needed to be replaced? How could he know that the carriage house in the back was sturdy and sound, but probably still should be updated with new doors, new wiring, and new windows? They hadn’t even stepped off the back porch.

“So, I have to do the foundation first?” Marti was starting to prioritize the list. “I swear, right now I’m starting to think that I should just demo this and start over. I’m just not sure that it’s cheaper.”

He was pulling at his chin. She loved the way his pale fingers scraped through his dark ginger goatee. And then she shook her head to try to focus again. “I mean…the list is long. The place has nice bones, but by the time we’re done, that will be the only original part left of the home.”

“We?” He asked, clearly imagining her husband being the other part of that pronoun.

“Yeah, you and me. I’d like to hire you to run this project. It’s bigger than I imagined.” She shrugged and brushed a few wisps of hair back from her face. “I know I don’t know you from Adam, but you are practically