Risqué Renovation [Blue Collar 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Nicole Morgan

  Carl had done his best to try to buy her parents’ approval. From purchasing a car for them, which they’d promptly refused, to lavishing them with other expensive gifts, his efforts should have been as transparent to her as they were to everyone else around her. She couldn’t see it though. All she saw was this gorgeous man who said he loved her, wanted to take care of her and was willing to do anything to make her happy. No matter how angry she was for not listening to her family, she felt confident most women would have easily fallen into the same trap. Carl presented the whole package to her. It was almost as if he’d reached into her mind, pulled out her fairy tale and then handed it to her all wrapped up with a shiny bow on top.

  Unlike most parents these days, hers were not concerned with money. They found happiness to be something the almighty dollar just couldn’t buy. They’d raised her to believe the same thing as well. And she had. Every life lesson they taught her, she’d hung onto. The only problem was there had been one part of life that they hadn’t prepared her for. It was a scary part, one that even they didn’t consider to be a possibility. They hadn’t prepared her for what life might be like when you marry a monster.

  Neither of her parents had cared for Carl. They made no secret of that. They thought the overbearing and dominant sides to his personality were a bit much and that eventually she would tire of it. What they hadn’t considered were the depths of what lay hidden behind that personality. Who Carl Jameson truly was had been cloaked behind the mask that he wore in public. It wasn’t until they were married and settled into their newlywed life of Beverly Hills that she’d gotten her first glimpse of the man behind the façade.

  Just weeks after moving into their new home, she had been cooking dinner, expecting Carl to arrive soon. Still so in love and enjoying every moment of her wedded bliss. When the doorbell rang and one of his business associates had stopped by unexpectedly, she’d graciously decided to let him in and offer him a drink while he waited. She had assumed she was being a good wife, or at the very least, a good hostess. Carl had arrived just fifteen minutes later. His expression spoke volumes the minute he entered the house and saw her sitting on the couch beside the man whose name had long since escaped her. It was strange, really. To think he’d played a role in such a pivotal part of her life, something that changed her and her marriage so drastically, and yet she couldn’t remember the man’s damn name.

  Carl had ordered her to the bedroom. He’d actually shouted the demand to her in front of their guest. Mortified, she’d run to the other end of the house, doing as he asked, crying along the way. When she got there, she hadn’t closed the door. She just sat on the bed, listening to muffled voices while trying to calm down. By the time Carl had showed himself, he had a look of fury in his eyes. He came toward her then, pulling the belt from his pants and shouting at her about disrespecting him. The blow across the side of her face had happened so quickly, she hadn’t even realized what had happened at first.

  She lay on the bed, frozen in shock. Pain sliced through her head. He didn’t allow her the comfort of the mattress for very long. He’d yanked on her arm, pulling her to a standing position, only to knock her down again. The beating went on for several minutes until blood began to drip from her nose. Then he’d screamed at her for making him do what he had. He’d called her trash and a number of other demeaning things.

  She’d actually believed the horror was over until he pushed her down on the mattress and rolled her over to her stomach. He’d reached under her skirt and ripped off her panties. At first she believed he was going to be rough with her. She had been dead wrong. That was when she truly grasped what her parents had been trying to warn her of all those years. His first plunge tore through her, wracking her body with burning pain. She screamed for him to stop, begged and pleaded while he continued to sodomize her, but he didn’t relent. His rape lasted only minutes, but it may as well have been hours.

  When it was finally over, she’d sobbed uncontrollably through her questions to him. She kept asking him what she’d done wrong. He’d shouted his reply at her, claiming she had acted the whore by letting that man in, stating she was his property and never to be left alone with another man. The rage in his eyes seemed evil. She was beyond afraid, she was terrified. She could still recall the pathetic sound of her voice when she’d apologized and promised never to do it again.

  That had been the beginning of the end for her. As with so many abused women, she’d assumed it was a one-time thing. He loved her, she’d told herself. Almost like a mantra, she’d repeatedly told herself that this time had been the last time. It never was, though. There would never be a last time with Carl. He was, in every sense of the word, the devil. The levels of evil and pain he inflicted on her had always been her fault. At least that’s how he explained it. It was always something she’d done to cause him to behave in such a way.

  Stupidly, she began to believe it after a while. Each time he would bloody and break her, she was always the one left to clean up the mess. Even after that first rape, he’d chided her for looking such a mess. He’d complained the blood on her face disgusted him. He’d forced her to take a shower while he watched. Blood had trickled from her ass. The pain was almost unbearable.

  She’d eventually learned that alcohol numbed quite a bit of her pain, both physically and emotionally. There wasn’t an ache it didn’t dull. For years, she struggled to be a good wife. She cooked, cleaned, was an amazing hostess and always did her best to look exactly how he liked her to look. None of it worked. Every effort she had made had all been for naught. She was never going to be good enough in Carl’s eyes. She would always do something wrong, find some way to anger him to the point of no return.

  It wasn’t until years later that she realized she hadn’t done a thing wrong. No matter how many times she had managed to convince herself that she was to blame, it was actually Carl who had the problem. Carl was and always had been an abusive, manipulative and controlling man. He was a sick, sadistic son of a bitch who thrived on hurting her.

  It was odd to think that first night of abuse had happened over eight years ago, but she could still recall it so vividly. Some days she wished she couldn’t, and that those scars of her former life would somehow disappear into her past so she would no longer have to relive them in her dreams. She knew they would never be fully gone, though. That moment and the subsequent attacks that followed had led her on a seven-year path of terror, self-loathing and eventually an attempt at suicide.

  The saddest part of it all was that once she finally had her epiphany and mustered the strength to leave Carl, she was under the foolish assumption that divorcing him would remove him from her life. She soon found out nothing could be further from the truth. He never gave her a moment’s peace. He stalked her every move. She saw him wherever she went. Even a simple trip to the grocery store resulted in her racing home with a panic attack because he always managed to coincidentally be wherever she was. She’d gone to the police, begged for their help, only to be met with red tape and their excuses. She never reported any of his abuse and had no evidence to back up her claims that he had raped and beaten her for years.

  Ultimately, it ended up being her word against his. He was a respected businessman in the upper crust of Beverly Hills society. She was viewed as the woman dumb enough to leave the charming and sophisticated Carl Jameson. She was left with nothing but her own fear and paranoia. That same paranoia ultimately exploded into chaos one night when she called 911 in a panic. When the police had finally shown up she had been huddled in a corner of her closet, holding a knife. Rather than be worried for one of their residents, the officers had admonished her for wasting taxpayers’ money because Carl wasn’t even there once they arrived. He had been there, though. She could sense it whenever he was near. And that night she knew, just as sure as she knew all the terror he’d put her though, that he had been there that night. He had the means, the ability and the prowess to hurt her. There was no way he was ever going to stop. She h
ad to get away. To save herself.

  “Patreece…hello?”

  The woman’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere and pulled her back into the present. She turned around to see Kade’s mother, Catherine, standing with a woman who looked somewhat familiar, but Patreece couldn’t quite place where she’d seen her before.

  “Well, hello there. Thought maybe you had fallen asleep while standing up or something. You looked as if you were off in La-La Land,” Catherine told her.

  Patreece offered a polite smile. The last thing she needed was Kade’s mother thinking she was strange. “Sorry about that. I guess I must have been daydreaming.”

  “No worries. Patreece, you remember Marta, right? You two met at the café the other day. She runs the market over on Main Street.”

  “Oh yes, of course. Hi, Marta. It’s nice to see you again.” She extended her hand.

  “Oh, girl, what is that? A handshake? Those are for men folk. You come here and give me a hug. That’s how we women do it here in Grand Isle.”

  Patreece hugged them both. “I’ll try to remember that. So, are you in here getting some things for the café?”

  “Oh heavens, no. I have a restaurant supply company I order from for that kind of thing. We’re here for Marta.”

  “Yeah, my son is in town for the summer. He’s a student at the university down in Orono, going on three years now. About four hours south of here. It’s not that far but we don’t get to see him much during the school year. His last roommate pretty much robbed him blind and left him with nothing more than his sheets and the clothes on his back. Guess he was into drugs or some sort of debauchery.” Marta shook her head. “Anyway, he doesn’t have much of a pot to piss in anymore, so I’ve been coming in every week or so, looking for deals and whatnot so he doesn’t have to go without.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, Kyle’s a good kid, gets good grades and stays out of trouble. They always say it only happens to the nice people. He’s interning with Kade this summer. Not making any money, but since he’s majoring in structural engineering, it’s good work for him to have firsthand knowledge of how things work. Oh boy, would you listen to me? I could go on about my baby all day long. Enough about us. What are you up to?”

  “Yeah, what brings you out here today? Getting some things for your new place? Kade stopped by the café this morning and told me he’s going to be helping you get some things done to get that old house back in working order again. You make sure he treats you right, okay? If he doesn’t, you just tell me. He may be grown, but I’m still his mama. I’ll set him straight.”

  Patreece grinned, not sure how to take the part about him treating her right. Catherine wore a grin that seemed to indicate she may be fishing for information. Patreece wondered if Kade’s mother suspected something might be going on between them. She’d have to ask him later when he came for dinner.

  “Okay. But don’t worry. He’s been a great help. Last night, he fixed a bathroom plumbing problem and tonight after dinner we’re going to go over a list of all that needs to be done in order of top priority. I didn’t ask too many questions when I bought the place. So I’m finding out that pretty much everything in it no longer is in working order. The washing machine seems to be busted, Kade said there’s a problem with the pipes needing updating, and he’s concerned that…” She hesitated.

  The two women smirked at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Tonight? After dinner?” Marta asked with a snicker.

  Patreece searched her memory for what she’d just said and immediately realized her error. If there had been a way to subconsciously smack herself upside the head, she would have gladly done it right then and there. She couldn’t believe how big of an idiot she could be sometimes.

  “Oh. I, um…well, Kade just offered to stop by and—”

  “Patreece, dear?” Catherine said.

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t need to explain, honey. My Kade is a good-looking boy. And you”—she motioned up and down with her hands—”Look at you. He’d be crazy not to be attracted to you.”

  Patreece flushed with embarrassment. Her big foot, which she’d so expertly managed to jam in her mouth, now had the potential to change the mood of their dinner date tonight. She could hardly wait to tell Kate she’d managed to imply they were dating. To his mother, no less. Not that she even knew if they were dating or not. After they’d talked last night, they ended up spending most of the night doing things that involved very little conversation.

  “Oh, how cute. Look at that, Catherine. The cat has gone and snatched her tongue. They do make a cute couple, though, if I do say so myself.”

  Patreece nodded and smiled, wishing she could somehow transport herself back in time to undo the events leading up to the incredibly embarrassing moment she was now having to endure.

  “We better stop, Marta. The poor girl didn’t come here to get bombarded by us Nosy Nellies. So what brings you here today anyway? Getting something for the house?”

  “Actually, yeah. I need some dishes, silverware and some pots and pans. All the usual kitchen essentials. I love to bake and I haven’t done it in while. Was thinking I could make up some goodies and help pass the time until I find a job or something,” she answered with relief, more thankful to Catherine than she may ever know for changing the topic.

  “You’re a baker? Are you a good one?” Catherine asked.

  “Well, I think I am. I’ve always just done it as a hobby. I’ve never had any training, but it can be very therapeutic. Plus, I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

  “Really?” Catherine turned toward Marta and gave her a questioning look.

  “What? What did I say this time?”

  “Well, as it just so happens, we were talking this morning about how we need to find someone to help us out. With baked goods, I mean. I only have one baker at the market. Charlotte’s great, but I’ve been working her like a dog lately. The woman needs a life. And Catherine here is the sole pie baker at the café. For the Founder’s Day Parade and Fair, we all pitch in and bake, but let’s face it, no one bakes on a regular basis anymore. Not like they used to. The days of Donna Reed and Mrs. Cleaver are long gone. It takes too much time, and time is something a lot of folks around here don’t have a lot of. Plus, I can’t speak for Catherine here, but baking is too much darn work for me. I tell ya…if I had a nickel for every time I got frustrated in the kitchen, I would be a rich woman.”

  “Marta, you’re rambling again.” Catherine poked fun at her, making pseudo hand-puppet gestures.

  “Don’t give me your sass, woman. My point is, Patreece…we need some help. We might not be a town full of bakers, but for a small town, we sure have one hell of an affinity toward sugar and all things that make our tummies go yum-yum.”

  “Boy, ain’t that the truth. It’s a wonder we’re not all diabetic,” Catherine teased.

  “So what do you think?” Martha asked.

  The two women were talking so fast, Patreece wasn’t even sure what the question was. “I’m sorry? What do I think about what?”

  “About baking for us? That is, I mean, assuming you are good at it. We need the help and all, but we don’t exactly want it to taste like sawdust, either.”

  “Marta, behave.” Catherine elbowed her in the stomach. “What she’s trying to say in her less-than-eloquent fashion is that we’re interested in trying out what you can do. If we like it, maybe we can talk numbers and see if we can’t help each other out.”

  “Seriously? I think that would be great. What would you like me to make for you?”

  Both women shrugged, but Marta answered.

  “Heck, I don’t know. Maybe some cupcakes? Or a pie? How about both?”

  “I can definitely do that.”

  “Great. Then it’s settled. You do your thing and meet us at, oh, I don’t know. What do you think, Marta?”

  “I’ve got a delivery coming tomor
row morning. Plus, you know me—I’m not worth a thing if I haven’t had my coffee. Why don’t we meet at the café? Say, at around ten o’clock. Does that work?”

  “Yeah, that’ll work. It will be after the breakfast rush, so I’ll be able to sit down and chat with you two. What do you think, Patreece? Sound good to you?”

  “Oh yes! That sounds wonderful. I’ll be there. I just need to pick up a few things here, stop at the market and then I’ll get started as soon as I get home.”

  The two ladies said good-bye and Patreece waved. She was on cloud nine and grinning as wide as can be. When she had set out on her quest to find a new life, she had no idea what she would do. She had no job leads, no aspirations for what she may want to do in the future. All she knew was that she had to get as far away from Carl as possible.

  When she set foot in Grand Isle, she felt a connection to it and thought this may be the place for her. Now more than ever, she was beginning to see that her intuition was finally working in her favor. This small coastal town was not just where she ended up—it was where she was meant to be.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kade had just finished going over some measurements for framing a deck when he walked outside to check on the progress his crew had made. The old patio slab they’d taken a jackhammer to had long since been carted off, and they had already installed the structural supports for the deck to rest upon. He was letting Kyle take the lead on this job, with Kade merely supervising. The kid was smart and knew how to build things the right way. Some people could spend years trying to figure things out, but not that kid. Building things was in his blood. Even from the time he was just a little guy, Kade could remember him building the most awesome sand castles down on the beaches of the St. John River.

  The hum of saws and nail guns filled the air. To many people, it might just be an annoyance of loud noise. To him, it was music to his ears. Like Kyle and so many others before him, building things always held a special place in Kade’s heart. It was his passion, and up until now, he didn’t think there was anything that could come close to making him as happy. That was all changing, and rather quickly, at that.