A Heart's War (The Broken Men Chronicles Book 5)

by Carey Decevito

  “I need someone to come and plug up my hole?”

  Sputtering, I choked out an, “Excuse me?”

  “My kitchen roof is leaking. The water’s run into my living room and converted it to an indoor pool, and-”

  “Ah!”

  Her sigh was heavy with exhaustion. “I know it’s late, and on a Friday no less, but is there any chance I can persuade you into checking things out? I’ll pay extra, if that’s what it takes.”

  “What’s your address?” I found myself asking, disbelieving the fact that I was about to let my home project go down the proverbial poop shoot when I hadn’t had the time all week to work on it.

  After acquiring her details and hanging up, I loaded my toolbox in the back of the truck, along with anything else necessary for a leaking roof, and jumped in. I may have been pulled away from my own work, but I wasn’t going very far. I suppose that was a plus.

  About a mile down from my home, a rather pitiful sign boasting Lilianna’s Buds greets me. It seems that the field of sunflowers I’d been staring at over my morning coffee for the last week belonged to her. I turned into the crushed rock driveway, parking alongside a beat up black Dodge Caravan with a matching decal to the sign at the property’s entrance.

  The moment I exited my truck, the sweet fragrance of flowers assaulted me. Something told me that if I happened into her old dilapidated barn, hers wouldn’t carry the smell of horseshit like mine did. Or maybe it did, what with the two newer greenhouse-looking structures behind said barn.

  I stood by my truck, sussing out the place. I spotted the most likely problematic section of the house almost immediately. From the outside, this house wasn’t much better than mine. The addition was fairly recent, and didn’t quite match the era or the style of the home. Whoever had built it hadn’t done the place justice. Much like the house and barn, the garage was in desperate need of a facelift too.

  I walked up the stone steps and knocked on the solid oak door. Sporting a grin, I blurted the first thing that came to mind when the door opened. I also wished I had had a bit more tact as soon as, “I’m here to plug up your hole,” had spilled out.

  The woman’s eyebrows arched upward as her eyes appraised my appearance. “Do you always shoot sexual innuendos to your female clients?”

  Heat climbed my face. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry if it came off that way.” Apparently ten years spent in the desert and infrequent downtime left a silver-tongued man with a severe case of foot-in-mouth disease. Quick on the recovery, I stuck out my hand. “I’m Theo Lowell from TL Construction.”

  She blinked a few times, but didn’t accept my hand. Huffing, she said, “I don’t know what to do. I’ve got buckets and pots everywhere, but it’s getting worse, and I can’t seem to stay on top of…”

  Her words faded away as I took in my latest client’s dishevelled appearance. She was drenched right through her clothes. Her already skin-tight tank top was plastered to her upper body and her shorts stuck to her hips and thighs. The outfit did nothing to conceal and everything to accentuate her assets, right down to her tiny little pink-toed feet. Her wet blond hair hung limp over her breasts and whatever makeup she might have been wearing was all but washed away, or perhaps she didn’t wear much, judging by the clear beads of water cascading down her cheeks. She was the epitome of what a country girl looked like in my mind. Natural was my kind of sexy.

  A very virile piece of my anatomy had taken notice of this, making this first meeting feel even more awkward. I shifted my stance trying to count down from one hundred, hoping she wouldn’t notice my body’s reaction. She’d most likely kick me out and report my ass as some kind of creeper.

  “Mr. Lowell?”

  “Huh?” She was staring as if waiting for me to say something. “Oh, right. Can I come in and take a look?”

  “Please. It’s in the kitchen.”

  The minute I walked into the aforementioned room, I knew that my assumption had been right.

  “Looks like it could be the joint from the addition to the existing structure,” I hypothesised aloud. “I’ll need to get up on the roof, ma’am. Let me go get my ladder.”

  “It’s Morgan.”

  “What?”

  “Please don’t call me ma’am.” Her smile was coy. “That’s a title for women my mother’s age. And you won’t need a ladder.”

  “If I want to take a look at your roof-”

  She shook her head. “Trust me, you don’t need a ladder. You can get to it from my bedroom.” She walked past me. “Follow me.”

  Taking a look had entailed a little more work than I would have liked. Since the kitchen’s roof had been used as a balcony off of the master bedroom, I ended up removing slats of decking before I could assess the problem. Great idea, bad execution, though. When I finally got to the root of the problem, I groaned. Morgan wasn’t going to like what I had to say.

  As I came back in from the torrential downpour that had yet to let up, she asked, “So?” and handed me a towel so I could mop myself up a bit.

  “I hope you have insurance.” I dabbed at my face, running the towel through my hair.

  “I do, but what’s the matter?”

  “The damage is far more extensive than I thought it would be. To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t had a leak until now. You’re lucky your roof hasn’t come down on top of your head.”

  Horror spread across her features. “It’s that bad?” I nodded. She turned and began to pace the room and muttered, “I could kill you, Steve!” under her breath.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing,” she was quick to say.

  Who was Steve? Where was the man? And more importantly, why the hell was I interested in those details?

  It wasn’t until Morgan led me out of her bedroom, the one with the balcony, that I spotted the frame on the bedside table and did a double take. There, behind the glass, was a photo of Damon with his arms wrapped around her, both of them sporting goofy grins at what looked like some kind of social gathering judging, by the beer in his hand.

  My feet stopped moving as memories of that day hit me like a ton of bricks. The explosion. Damon slouching dead in the driver’s seat of our Humvee. My capture. Suddenly, Morgan’s bedroom started feeling like a shrinking box and I could feel my extremities going numb while my breath came out in short pants.

  Shortly after Morgan had left the room, she returned when she realized I hadn’t followed. “What is it?” she asked, which made me look over at her and then back to the photo. Her gaze followed mine. “Did you know Steve?”

  Steve? No, that’s Damon. Clearing my throat, I said, “He looks familiar,” since the names didn’t match. Maybe it’s not him. But my relief was short-lived with Morgan’s next words.

  “Oh! I keep forgetting.” She palmed her forehead. “He preferred his middle name to his first. Especially in the service. He went by Damon.”

  “Smyth?” My voice quivered.

  At her nod, my heart sunk and my head began to whirl. The heavy weight on my chest that had caused me to pant earlier was back.

  Morgan’s gaze zeroed in on me. “Did you know him?”

  Words evaded me. Sorry for your loss just didn’t seem to cut it in my opinion so I choked out an, “I knew him. He was a great man, a great friend.” The woman nodded, and I kept rambling like a bumbling idiot, but I couldn’t let on as to how close he and I had become during our deployment. I couldn’t tell her that he’d been in my unit, that I’d seen firsthand what had happened to him. “This is why I never married. I couldn’t leave a wife behind if something ever happened to me while I was over there. I-”

  “Hold on, wife?” Her voice was high-pitched. Then the woman in front of me burst out laughing.

  While Morgan was busy giggling herself silly, my mind took me back to when I’d first met Damon. He’d only ever talked about three women in his life. Morgan had been mentioned a time or two, but I believe Kayla, I think it was, was his wife’s name. At the time of his de
ath, they’d had a beautiful two-year-old daughter, Savannah, whom he’d shown me numerous pictures of. They’d been the loves of his life. And he’d left a sister behind. One I was now face-to-face with.

  On one last chuckle, Morgan broke me from my thoughts. “I was engaged once, but not to that idiot. Steve, aka Damon is…was my brother.” I could only nod at what I’d figured out on my own. The question about where her man was still burned at me, but my curiosity was put to rest just as quickly as the inquiry had manifested itself. “As for my fiancé,” her tone was pure ice, “he’s been gone for about as long as my brother has been.”

  “I’m sorry, Morgan.” She had no idea how sorry I was.

  She shrugged. “I’m not. He wasn’t a good man. He-” Her mouth snapped shut, her cheeks pinked. “I don’t know why I just told you that.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Can we get back to business?”

  Gladly! “Let me get a few things and I’ll see what I can do to hold off the water for the night. We’ll need to wait for things to dry up a bit before I can do anything permanent outside, though.” On that note, and without waiting for a response from her, I made my escape for the front door.

  Chapter 5

  Thankful for the thick tarp I had in the back of my truck, I covered Morgan’s roof and sealed the points of entry I found. She’d also have to let me know how and when she wanted me to proceed with the repairs.

  “So that’s just temporary right?” she asked when I came back in.

  I nodded. “The addition wasn’t done right. I’m not sure if you want to keep that patio up there but if so…”

  She huffed her frustration as we headed down to the main floor. “Can I ask you something?” Bending over to grab a pot that was on the verge of overflowing, she proceeded to the kitchen sink and emptied it before setting it back in place.

  I took the time to appreciate the view of those short shorts that were suctioned and riding up her perfectly rounded ass. “Sure.”

  “I’ve been working on this place what seems nonstop.” She ran a shaky hand over her forehead and into her hair, gathering it up into a messy bun on the top of her head. I could tell the woman was stressed. “I can’t seem to stay on top of things, and with running my business and this issue popping up, the fact that you have to most likely gut my kitchen to fix it… You are going to fix it, right?”

  “If that’s what you want, of course.”

  “Well I can’t very well have a gaping hole in my kitchen ceiling, can I?” she snapped. Covering her face while shaking her head from side to side, she took a cleansing breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I can’t do this alone. I need someone to help me rebuild this place from top to bottom, like I’ve envisioned.”

  “You could sell it and save yourself a lot of hassle,” I suggested.

  “No.” Her expression was solemn. “This is the last place…”

  Not only did I regret my question, but I despised myself for putting that sad look on her face. “No need to explain. I got it.”

  “I just don’t know where to start anymore. This was supposed to be a family project of sorts. Me and Steve…I mean, Damon and Kayla, his wife. We were supposed to take this place and turn it around. But now, every time I get started on a project, something else happens that needs to be replaced or fixed right away. I…” Her voice trailed off on an emotionally charged sigh.

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Morgan, this isn’t a small job. I can see about hiring a reliable crew to work around here-”

  “No!”

  No?

  “I want to learn to do it on my own.” She bit her lip. The innocent act sent a zing straight to my dick. “It’s something I need to do. For myself.”

  “I’m confused. You said you needed help, but you want to go it on your own? What am I missing here?”

  She gazed down at her feet. “I want you to teach me.” It came out as a whisper. When she looked back up, I could see a blush begin to fade. “I swear I won’t get in the way. I just want to be able to say that I’ve done something from start to finish for once in my life. To prove…” She never finished her sentence, but I somehow understood where she was headed with that last statement, and I couldn’t help but feel for the tiny woman. Someone had been disappointed in her at some point and she was looking to prove them wrong.

  “Okay.” I can’t believe I’d said it. There were so many reasons why I should have said the opposite, but I hadn’t, and now I was obliged to her. I chalked my latest bout of temporary insanity to the chill from the rainwater. It must have turned my brain into a block of ice.

  She seemed as shocked at my answer as I was. “Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said, and hoped I wouldn’t regret my decision, even though I could see red flags flashing in my mind. “First thing’s first. You need to call your insurance.”

  “Already done. They’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Good. Next, I’ll need you to compile a list of things you’re looking to have done here. I want to know everything from plumbing and electrical to the simplest of paintjobs.” To be honest, with what I’d seen of her place so far, I thought every square inch of her place needed help.

  “Sure. I can take you through the rest of the house now, if you’d like.” She bit that lower lip of hers again.

  Dear God, give me strength! I wasn’t quite sure what I was asking for strength for, but I had a list that was becoming a mile long with all the reasons I should find her a new contractor. But I wouldn’t. Call me crazy, but as much as my tie to her brother should be keeping me away from her in all aspects, my overwhelming feeling of guilt made me feel like I owed him. I felt responsible because had he been here, he would have helped her.

  A couple of hours later, I walked out of Morgan’s house with a long list of things she wanted to tackle, as well as a longer list of things I noticed that needed immediate attention, not to mention some photos and measurements of all the rooms we would eventually be tackling.

  “Give me the weekend to work on some draft drawings of those changes we discussed. I’ll get you some quotes for the options, and have it to you first thing Monday,” I told her. “You can take the day or however long you want to decide or change things since I have a job to finish up with, but then, if you’re ready, I’m all yours.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Lowell.” Her face brightened up, the stress lines that were present in her features earlier having disappeared.

  “If we’re going to work together, call me Theo.”

  “Thanks, Theo.”

  Exhausted from a long day, adding to it a long and drenched night, I sauntered through the front door of my house and locked up. I pealed my wet clothes off as I climbed the stairs toward the bathroom, jumped in the shower, pipes rattling in the walls and all, then crawled into bed.

  Chapter 6

  When Monday came around, I woke feeling as if someone had hit me with a Mac truck. My stomach was churning, my muscles ached and my head pounded. It sure as hell didn’t help that I hadn’t slept much all weekend long. I’d been busy working on those drawings for Morgan.

  After dropping said drawings and cost workup with Morgan, I headed over to the Tanner’s to finish up with their basement-renovation-gone-awry. By mid-afternoon, I was driving up my neighbor’s driveway after she’d called me, requesting that I come over to discuss my work.

  The weather had made a turn for the better, but with the sweltering heat of the mid-summer sun and the worsening of my symptoms, I was hoping that I could get home early for some much needed rest.

  Over the weekend Morgan’s insurance company had sent a crew in to dry up the place with dehumidifiers and fans. An adjuster had also been by to suss out the damages and calculate what kind of compensation she should expect, and what her options were. I was appalled to see that no one had been by to start with the cleaning, so I jumped to work.

  I was finishing up with cutting out most of the drywall to her kitchen ceiling wh
en she asked me, “Are you sure you’re all right to work?” This had been the fifth time she’d inquired since my arrival. I must have looked as bad as I felt.

  Brushing off her comment, I paused to close my eyes and take a deep breath to stave off my rather constant nausea before I climbed down the stepladder.

  “I’m fine. So, what did you think about the drawings?”

  “They look gorgeous, but…” She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth. I knew I was really under the weather when her action barely registered with my body.

  “With what you’re looking at right now, it’s not that much more,” I said, knowing that she was worried about the end dollar amount. All clients were, since it didn’t take much to throw a project over budget. “The insurance is covering the entire kitchen, with the exception of the flooring, right?” She nodded. “Anything else?”

  “They’ll cover the kitchen floor if one of those tiles cracks, since I don’t have any extra tiles to replace them with, but I want it changed anyway. If the top of this room isn’t done right, I’m not sure I can trust the bottom.” I nodded in understanding. “They’re replacing the carpet, baseboards and painting for the entire first floor since the water spread everywhere.”

  “You said you wanted to make this place look like the addition matches the original rest of the house. The only way to do that is to expand the upstairs.”

  “Yes, I get that. It’s just…” Her brows furrowed. “Can we actually get that done with just you and me? I mean, when my brother and I added the kitchen we had six other guys working every day for a month to get it done. What you’re showing me here is practically an entire demolition of nearly the entire upstairs half of my house. How am I supposed to live here if my entire house is being done at once? I can’t-”

  “I’m trying to give you what you want.” I met her eyes. After all, she’s the one who’d asked for those drawings. “You said you wanted authenticity and this,” I pointed to my weekend’s work, “would alleviate any future complications, such as the one you’re stuck with now. Add the extra square footage and the resale value on this place would be through the roof. Just think about the gigantic walk-in closet you’ll get along with an enlarged ensuite.”