A Second Chance House

by Stacey Wilk

  More anger bubbled up in his belly. His son refused to play with him, but somehow Colton got him to strum? Why did Colton get the best of Cash? Did he really need to ask that? Colton charmed the best out of everyone. It was his gift. A gift Blaise did not possess.

  Grace wasn’t home yet but would be soon. It wasn’t as if she had many places to go. Who’d she even know in this town? He didn’t want to have to see her every time he walked out onto the front porch. Or every time he went into town. Hopefully, her house would be fixed up fast and she’d go back to wherever it was she came.

  “Bro, you ever bringing those burgers in?” Colton yelled from the front door. “We’re starving in here.”

  He grabbed the plastic bag as Grace pulled into her driveway. She turned off the car and sat there. If he hurried, she might not realize he was outside. But she hadn’t moved. She rested her head on the steering wheel. Did something happen on the way home?

  Should he go over and see if she was okay?

  “Dad, the food.”

  Cash’s words dragged him away from the car. Grace would be fine. She didn’t need his help. She had said as much.

  ****

  Grace pulled into her driveway. The house was dark. She’d forgotten to turn on a lamp, and she didn’t have her lights on a timer as she did back home. She didn’t want to go inside. What was waiting for her? Nothing.

  Why did she say “never” when he said she could pay for the next dinner? She hadn’t meant to say it. It slipped out, and she wanted to shove the words back as soon as they were loose.

  She wasn’t trying to be mean. They were just so different, and he wouldn’t understand what she had been through. How could he know how it would feel to be dumped by a man you thought you loved for a younger, prettier version? It was as if her expiration date had hit and Larry was tossing her aside before she had a chance to start living.

  Asking Blaise questions about the house’s previous owners was stupid. She should have planned it out better before she raced across the lawn and pounded on his door earlier. She would stay in her yard from now on. He wouldn’t want to talk to her, anyway, after she was so rude.

  She dragged herself out of the car. Blaise’s house was lit up like a Christmas tree. She pulled out the small flashlight she kept in her purse and made her way up the rickety steps. A wooden table and four chairs had been plopped on the porch, practically blocking the front door. A note was taped to the table.

  Miss Grace,

  You weren’t home when I stopped by. Don’t go dragging this heavy thing in by yourself. I’ll be back in the morning at seven to start work. I’ll take it in then. The weather will hold tonight. Hope you like the table. It’s been refurbished.

  Beau Carroll

  The table was hard to make out in the dark, but she could smell the wood and the finish on it. He must’ve put down the brush and brought it right over. Dixie had been right. The table was a good idea. It might make the place feel like a home, and she could leave it behind for the new owners. She wasn’t expecting something so nice.

  A quick glance at the sky told her the weather might not hold. But what did she know? Lately, it didn’t feel as if she knew much.

  She wanted to wash her face, put on her pajamas, and flip through the home-renovation magazines she’d picked up. She would make a vision board, pulling out all the pictures that inspired her and taping them up for Beau to see and use as a guideline. There was an app for that, but she wanted to be able to hold the vision board in her hands, turn it in the light. Maybe she’d pull some pieces of fabric and materials and tape them on too.

  Chloe would call her old for pushing aside the technology. Grace laughed. Chloe was right. She was old. And alone. And in a house ready for the junkyard. A tiny part of her, just a flicker, was excited about the new adventure. That, or it was dinner upsetting her stomach.

  She carefully removed pages with pictures of white kitchens and wide-planked mahogany floors. She peeled out pages of fireplaces and front porches. Before she knew it, all three magazines were in shreds and covering the small folding table and much of the floor. She’d have to get poster boards, but that would have to wait until morning. She could leave the pictures where they were, but she didn’t want them scattered around when Beau arrived. If he was beginning work, her vision would likely get trampled.

  Rain pattered against her roof. Was it going to leak? She ran around from room to room checking, but the place seemed dry. The table. She ran for the front door.

  She flipped on the overhead lights in the living room, but the ones on the porch didn’t seem to work. No bother. She’d manage to get the table in. She could push it if it was too heavy to pull.

  The chairs went in with no problem, but she’d built up a nice sweat. She lined the table up with the door. She didn’t need a measuring tape, which she didn’t have anyway, but the table looked as if it would fit. The rain was coming down harder and hitting the edge of the porch. If the wind shifted, she and the table would get wet.

  Using the weight in her legs, she gave the table a good shove forward. It stuck in the door. She tried again to push it, but no go. She tried to pull the table back out. Maybe she could set it on its side and try that way. The table wouldn’t move. She climbed over the table into the house and yanked with all she had. Nothing.

  “Now what am I supposed to do?”

  She grabbed onto the corners of the table and shimmied. The doorframe protested and started to splinter.

  “Don’t panic.” What was she thinking? Why didn’t she leave the table alone, as Beau had said?

  She hoisted herself back onto the table. Maybe she could dislodge it from the other side.

  “Do you need some help?” Cash stepped into the light spilling onto the porch from behind her.

  Grace jumped and nearly fell off. “Oh, I didn’t see you. No, no thank you. I’m fine.”

  “I was taking out the garbage.” He pointed to the cans on the street. “It looks like you’re stuck.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Her neck and face burned. How could she accept help from Blaise’s son after she was so rude earlier?

  He threw his hands up, as if to say whatever, and turned away. She could see Chloe doing the same thing. Teens were very literal. An adult might push harder, sensing the hesitation, but teens took you at face value. Always best to say what you mean to them.

  She wasn’t getting anywhere with the stupid table on her own. She’d be at it all night, and the rain wasn’t letting up.

  “Um, Cash,” she yelled into the darkness. “I think I might need that help, after all.”

  ****

  What was his son doing? Blaise watched Cash climb the porch steps of Grace’s house. He didn’t want to stand full on in the window and get caught staring, so he peered around the curtain. It was hard to tell from this angle, but it looked as if Grace was standing on something in the doorway. He had to find out what was going on.

  “Where are you going?” Colton lounged on the couch, plucking his guitar.

  “I’ll be right back.” He wasn’t about to say more. If Colton heard about a woman in distress, he’d be on his feet faster than a sixteenth note. Blaise was sparing Colton from Grace’s condescending pout.

  Their voices drifted over to him, mixed with the song of the rain, as he crossed the lawn. Grace laughed at something Cash said. A large raindrop smacked into his head. His insides burned. Why did everyone get the best of Cash and not him?

  “It was really stupid of me.”

  “It happens. Sorry about your door.”

  “No need to be sorry. You were right.”

  “Howdy, neighbor,” Blaise yelled.

  Grace pulled on her shirt collar. Cash unpeeled himself and stood at full height, staring at him.

  “You guys okay?” he said.

  “We’re fine. Cash was just helping me.” Grace fluttered around the porch like a moth.

  “I think it will move now.” Cash handed her a screwdriver and th
e molding from the doorframe.

  The it was a table. That’s what Grace had been standing on, and it was stuck in her door. He laughed, releasing the tension he’d carried over from next door.

  “What’s so funny?” Her chin was up.

  “You got a table stuck? How’d you manage that?”

  She waved a hand in the air. “It doesn’t matter. Thank you, Cash. I really appreciate it, but I can drag the table inside from here.”

  “My dad and I can do it. I don’t mind.”

  “You heard the lady. She can do it herself. Besides.” He waved his braced hand in the air.

  She didn’t want his help, but she took his son’s. How was that okay?

  He took a good look at her in the lamplight. She stood there chewing on her bottom lip, wearing a T-shirt, cotton striped pants that dragged on the floor, and slippers. She’d pinned her hair up with a pencil, but small pieces fell around her face. Dirt had streaked her jawline. He was suddenly aware of his out-of-beat heart.

  “Are we having a party and no one invited me?”

  Blaise dropped his chin to his chest and frowned. Here we go. “Grace, this is my brother, Colton.”

  Colton stepped onto the porch as if he were stepping on stage. He beamed at Grace and offered a hand. “Ma’am, it’s my pleasure.”

  Blaise wanted to stick his good fingers down his throat.

  Grace looked at her palm, then wiped it on her shirt. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  How nice?

  “Looks like you’ve got yourself in a predicament.” Colton inspected the table. “Is my brother here helping you out?” He smiled at Blaise, but the dare gleamed in Colton’s eyes. If Blaise wasn’t interested in Grace, Colton would be.

  Blaise’s insides heated up again. “Actually, Cash solved the problem. I was about to drag the table in.”

  “Allow us.” Colton motioned to Cash, and they hoisted the table and carried it inside.

  Damn his bandaged hand and his stupidity for getting hurt. But why did he care? If Colton wanted her, he could melt the iceberg. Blaise was done with that kind of woman. Unless his wallet was wide open, Melissa was frozen enough for the entire female population.

  “This place needs a lot of work, if you don’t mind me saying.” Colton glanced around the front porch and stuck his finger in the soft wood of the doorframe.

  Grace laughed again. It was a nice laugh, like a slow melody. “Beau Carroll starts tomorrow to renovate.”

  “Old Beau. Haven’t seen him in years. Does he have a crew big enough for this job?”

  She shook her head. “But he assures me he can handle it. I hope.” She pulled on her shirt again.

  “Is he hiring?” Cash stepped out of the corner he’d slid into.

  She squinted at Cash. “I don’t know.”

  “Why do you want to know if he’s hiring?” Blaise looked back at Grace. What was she thinking?

  Cash shoved his hands in his pockets. “This might sound stupid, but I kind of like working with my hands. Fixing things. Building things. Maybe I could work for him and help Grace.”

  That was the most Cash had said to him since he got there. “You can’t work for Beau. You have to put your time in at the library.”

  “I’m not going to be at the library eight hours a day. If Beau will hire me, and Grace, I’ll ask him, and I can split the days between here and the library. What am I going to do all summer anyway? I’m not going to help you with that garden.”

  “Why does everyone hate my garden so much?”

  “Bro, have you seen it?” Colton snickered.

  “Asshole, Dad planted one.”

  “Language, a lady is present. Forgive my Neanderthal brother.” Colton turned back to Blaise. “You didn’t inherit Dad’s green thumb.”

  Grace found something interesting on the floor to look at. Was she trying to hold back a smile?

  Colton grabbed Cash’s shoulder. “Sounds like your son has a plan. You might want to think about it.”

  “I don’t need any parenting advice from you.”

  She inched toward the door. “Um, if you’ll excuse me, it’s getting late. Thanks again for helping with the table. Really.”

  “What about the door?” Blaise said.

  “The door?” Grace stared at him.

  “It won’t shut without the frame. What are you going to do about the door?” Because something told him Miss Wrinkle-Free from the North wasn’t going to want to sleep alone without that door shut and bolted tight. Got to watch out for the neighbors.

  “I’ll fix it,” Colton said.

  “I can.” From Cash.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she said.

  Blaise’s head hurt. “I’m going home. You three figure it out.”

  He crossed the lawn as the rain lightened up, and turned one final time to glance at Grace’s house. Cash was banging the molding in with what looked like his shoe. Colton made Grace laugh again. He shut the door from inside. Shutting Blaise out. Like always.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. His bandaged hand ached, but he grabbed his guitar and dropped into the rocker on the porch. A moth banged its head against the light. “I know how you feel, buddy.”

  In the morning, he’d talk to Beau.

  Chapter Eleven

  The hot water overflowed from her mug. Grace had hit the water button on the machine one too many times, and when she yanked the mug away, not bothering to look, hot water scalded her hand.

  “How stupid can I be?” She ran her hand under the cold water. Her skin turned pink.

  She could be so stupid because she wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was thinking about Blaise when she should have been thinking about her house lists. Picking cabinets, flooring, counters, paint colors, but instead her mind would sneak back to the way he looked at her when he climbed onto her porch last night. As if he were trying to undress her. It would probably be better if Cash didn’t work for Beau. As sweet as Cash seemed, it wasn’t a good idea for all of them to interact very much. Blaise would be climbing her porch steps constantly if he thought his son was over here working. She’d tell Beau. No Cash.

  And then her mind would slide over the image of the way Blaise’s hair curled against the collar of his ridiculous shirt covered in Xs and Os, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to make room for his brace. Or the fullness of his bottom lip.

  “Stop it. It doesn’t matter how attractive he is.” Or that she couldn’t remember the last time she noticed a man at all. She dried her sore hand on the paper towel. It was final. Cash would have to find another job.

  Plus that brother. Colton. Trouble. He was a charmer for sure. Trying to impress her with his musical success after Blaise had left, as if she cared about that, but then slipping in little bits of information about old homes as if he were an expert. It didn’t work. She saw him coming a mile away. He expected every woman in his path to fan themselves at the great guitar player.

  He did have the same gray eyes as Blaise, but they lacked that twinkle. She might even say Colton was better looking than Blaise. Colton had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, a dimple in his right cheek, not that she’d noticed, and his smile lines showed when he laughed. He didn’t look too bad in those jeans either, but something about Blaise was different. Maybe it was the way his face lit up when he smiled or how protective he was of his son or how he never mentioned his rock status, as if he wasn’t impressed with himself.

  The doorbell rang. Well, it was more like a sick chicken clucking. She yanked open the door to Beau, holding a coffee mug and his face as red as a cardinal.

  “Why is that table inside? I told you I’d take care of it. And I see you had to rip the doorframe off to get it in. That might’ve been the only thing we wouldn’t need to replace, and I can tell from the job you did to fix it, we’ll have to just rip it all out and start over.” He stepped forward, forcing Grace to take a step back.

  “Good morning to you too.”

/>   “Did you scrape the table? And how did a waif like you drag that heavy table in?”

  “First off, please don’t plow into my house barking at me. Second, the table is fine and the neighbors helped me bring it in.”

  “Which neighbors? Not Mo Bucknell. That man doesn’t know the up side to a hammer.”

  She pointed next door to Blaise’s.

  “Better. At least those Savage boys know a socket wrench from a two-by-four.” He marched into the kitchen as if he expected her to follow, which she did because she was afraid if she didn’t, the smoke already coming out of his ears would turn to fire and take the whole place down with him.

  “Afraid I’ve got some bad news.” He put down his coffee.

  “What kind of bad news?” She took a deep breath to brace herself. He was going to quit, she’d have to find a new contractor, and that would take a while and throw her plans off track.

  “The permits haven’t come in yet. I was just down at the town hall. We can’t start your demolition until we get them. It’s going to be a couple more days because that fool Miles is on some fishing trip and no one can get hold of him. His wife said he left his cell phone home on purpose.”

  “Does it really matter if we have the permits? Would anyone really care if we started fixing this place up?”

  “I do everything by the book. No permit. No work. I’ll be back day after tomorrow. Until then go over to Chester’s and pick some paint samples.” He rinsed out his coffee mug in the sink and then dried it.

  She was so glad he felt at home. Not really. “Anything else you’d like to order me to do?”

  He marched back over to the door. “Don’t go moving that table again without me. But at least you put it in the right spot.” He mumbled the last words, but she caught them.