If these walls could talk...
Trent Hawkins won’t rest easy until his childhood home and the secrets it holds are finally demolished. So he’s shocked when a contract for its renovation comes across his desk. When the new owner, Emily George, refuses to sell, Trent’s only option is to take the job.
Straitlaced Trent and free spirit Emily don’t exactly see eye to eye. But she’s not the flaky city girl he took her for at first, and before long her enthusiasm for renovating Wild Rose Cottage reminds him of better times. Trent’s first priority is protecting his family’s reputation. But the closer he gets to Emily, the less concerned he is with the past.
Emily squared her shoulders.
“Are you interested in the job or not?”
He paused a long moment before answering. “Yes.”
“In that case, I’ll let you know tomorrow whether I’ve chosen your company to do the work,” she informed him coolly. “Is there anything else you need for your estimate?”
“No, that’s complete.”
She conducted him to the door and shut it behind him, relieved. Trent Hawkins might be near perfection in the appearance department—the perfect image of a rugged Western male—but he was also rude and pushy. She wasn’t sure she liked him, and was definitely sure he made her nervous.
Before he’d come, she had made up her mind that if the estimate was reasonable, she’d go with Big Sky because of their reputation. They really were the best. But now she needed to think it through again. It gave her a peculiar sensation to know Trent wanted the house for reasons he refused to explain.
Dear Reader,
One of my dreams is to buy an old house and discover a forgotten treasure in the attic, such as an artifact from the Titanic or a previously unknown Rembrandt painting. So for my loner hero, Trent Hawkins, I couldn’t resist pairing him with Emily George, a cheerful, new-age city woman determined to renovate his childhood home.
Trent isn’t sentimental about Wild Rose Cottage, as Emily calls it, but he doesn’t want a stranger tearing the place apart and discovering some of the dark, hidden secrets of the Hawkins family. He hadn’t known the property was for sale, and Emily won’t sell, though he makes an offer that few people would refuse. So when she chooses his construction company to do the renovations, he decides to supervise the job himself.
I hope you have fun reading At Wild Rose Cottage. Writing it indulged my dream of finding treasure, because while Trent and Emily don’t uncover a Rembrandt, they discover something worth far more…each other.
I enjoy hearing from readers and can be contacted c/o Harlequin Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, ON M3B 3K9, Canada.
Callie Endicott
CALLIE
ENDICOTT
At Wild Rose Cottage
As a small child Callie Endicott was fascinated that little squiggles on the page of a book could actually tell tales of faraway places and people. So naturally, she grew up wanting to use those squiggles to share the stories she made up in her head. Callie is grateful for laptop computers, which allow her to indulge one of her passions and still write…travel. At the same time she loves home and her guy, along with her cats, walking on a beach or hiking a forest trail.
Books by Callie Endicott
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
Montana Skies
Kayla’s Cowboy
That Summer at the Shore
Until She Met Daniel
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
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To my dad’s father, who worked with his hands.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EXCERPT FROM BETTING ON THE ROOKIE BY STEPHANIE DOYLE
CHAPTER ONE
EMILY GEORGE STROLLED downtown to her new store. What a treat to take a leisurely ten-minute walk instead of fighting Los Angeles traffic for an hour.
It still seemed incredible that she’d bought the Emporium. She’d passed through the town of Schuyler while exploring Montana and had acted totally on impulse. Of course, being impulsive wasn’t strange for her, but usually it wasn’t regarding something so huge. After all, people said she was the “smart George sister,” while her sister was the pretty one.
But four months ago she’d thrown caution to the wind and made an offer on the business. Well, it wasn’t as if she was risking everything—her shop in Los Angeles was doing ridiculously well. Even after hiring a manager, she had ample income each month to do whatever she wanted, and that wasn’t counting her savings and investments.
“Good morning,” a friendly voice called as she entered the store.
“Hello. Back already?” Emily greeted the woman who’d visited the shop the previous day. As far as she knew, it was the first time she’d met a member of the prominent McGregor family.
Sarah McGregor had spent two hours searching for the perfect present for her son and daughter-in-law, and they’d gotten into a fascinating conversation about the town’s history. Later her manager had explained that when Sarah and her husband got married, it had ended the rivalry between the two biggest ranching families in the area. Emily had instantly envisioned the Western range wars of Hollywood legend, but apparently it hadn’t been quite that dramatic.
“I thought you found the anniversary gift you wanted,” she added, “but we’re happy to take returns.”
“It isn’t that. I just kept thinking about how nice it would look in one of these polished wood boxes. They’re so elegant and simple. And I asked my son, the one I told you about... Oh, there he is.” Sarah stopped and smiled as a tall, rather forbidding man entered the shop. “Over here, Trent,” she called.
Emily’s own smile became strained. She’d made the mistake yesterday of mentioning her new house—desperately in need of renovation—only to have Sarah McGregor begin raving about her eldest son’s building skills. Emily had manufactured an excuse to duck out of the conversation, wondering when she’d learn to keep her mouth shut.
It seemed as if half the women in town had talented sons capable of tackling repairs. Plumbing? The dear unstopped my plugged sink in nothing flat. Electrical? You should see the way Joey rigged my broken vacuum cleaner. Drywall? I swatted a spider and knocked a hole in the plaster, so Carlton just covered it with masking tape and painted right over.
Supposedly some of them were licensed contractors, but Emily needed more than a mother’s say-so to trust her home to them.
“Are these the boxes you wanted me to check?” asked the man as he approached. He looked absurdly out of place in the gift store. It was a large building with high, old-fashioned ceilings, but he seemed too powerful and intense to be confined inside four walls. With his green eyes and dark hair, he made her think
of Irish adventurers braving the seas for fame and fortune.
“Er...yes, dear.”
He lifted one of the wood boxes and turned it over, carefully examining every aspect of its construction, not seeming to notice the awkward silence that had fallen. A second and third box were inspected with equal care.
“These are finely constructed, all hardwood, and the price is acceptable for the level of workmanship,” he said at length. “I’m surprised you wanted a second opinion.”
Bright flags of pink appeared in Sarah’s cheeks. “You’re the expert. Let me introduce you to Emily, the new owner of the Emporium. Emily, this is my son Trent.”
Trent flicked Emily a cool look. “Hello.” If he was aware that his mother was trying to introduce a potential client, he wasn’t using charm to clinch the deal.
“Hi.”
“Emily just bought a house that needs renovation,” Sarah explained gamely.
“That’s nice. I should get back to work,” Trent said to Sarah. “I’ll see you at Sunday dinner.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead and strode out.
He seemed to suck up all the oxygen in a room, and Emily felt the need to gulp a lungful of air after the door closed behind him.
Sarah let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. You said your new place is pretty bad, and I thought you could get some advice from Trent. What did you say—that the roof was in danger of falling down around your ears? It sounds as if you’re living the Montana version of Under the Tuscan Sun.”
Emily couldn’t suppress a laugh. Her “new” house might be in even worse shape than a sturdy Italian villa that had survived centuries of use. “I suppose it does.”
Except for the romance part, she added silently. The character in the movie had wanted a man in her life, but Emily wasn’t interested in romance. And it didn’t seem likely, in any case.
“You should consider having Trent’s company do the work. Not that I’m trying to drum up business for him, or that he needs it,” Sarah added hastily. “He’s terribly independent—when he was starting the business he wouldn’t take anything from us. Not even...” Her words trailed and there was a hint of frustration in her tone.
Emily understood how Sarah’s son must have felt. She often wished she had refused a loan from her parents when starting her boutique in Southern California. She’d long since paid it back, with compounded interest, but they rarely failed to refer to their role in her success.
“I’m planning to call a number of contractors for bids,” Emily said, hoping Sarah would drop the subject.
“Then I’m sure you’ll call Big Sky Construction, too. Trent is the top contractor for miles around. Their bid may not be the lowest, but I know they’d do the best work. They don’t cut corners.”
Emily’s eyes widened. Big Sky Construction had a great reputation. “I hear good things about them,” she said in a noncommittal tone, “but I thought the company was owned by someone named Hawkins.”
Sarah nodded. “Hawkins is Trent’s last name. We raised my husband’s nephew and niece after their parents died in an accident, but Trent and Alaina are our children, the same as the others. We just didn’t think it was right to change their surnames when we adopted them.”
“I see.”
From what Emily had heard of Trent Hawkins, the man was formidable, and his construction company was in demand across a large section of Montana, thanks to the construction yards he’d opened in other communities. Yet in a way, Big Sky’s size and popularity was a potential drawback. She’d dealt with large companies and they weren’t always attentive to smaller jobs. Still, this wasn’t the city, so it might be all right, and there had to be a reason Big Sky was doing so well.
As if realizing she’d pushed hard enough, Sarah gestured around the Emporium. “Everybody loves the changes you’ve made. Until now we had to go to Billings or Helena for a really special gift.”
It was the sort of comment Emily had heard often since buying the large gift shop. Tourists were flocking in, but it was the locals who’d recognized the upgraded stock and weren’t shy about complimenting her choices. Their down-home friendliness was refreshing. Between her Rodeo Drive boutique and the people she knew in the fashion industry, she’d spent too much of her life with men and women who knew they were beautiful and subtly lorded it over anyone whose birthright didn’t include a gorgeous face and body...and they hadn’t always been subtle.
Emily squirmed at the thought. Maybe she’d been the problem; in a way she had always felt like a fraud running a boutique when she wasn’t that interested in clothes and makeup. A gift shop specializing in Montana products was a much better fit, though being a city gal, her move to a small town in Montana seemed just short of crazy, even to her. Still, crazy or not, she’d needed the change after ending her engagement to a cheating skunk.
“How do you like Schuyler?” Sarah asked after making her purchase.
It was another query Emily had received numerous times. Folks were friendly and while they couldn’t possibly know everyone in town, they seemed aware that she was a newcomer.
“I love it here.”
Sarah tucked the credit card receipt into her purse. “I hope you feel that way after dealing with your disastrous house.”
“Me, too, but something about it called my name. I couldn’t resist.”
* * *
AS THE MORNING wore on, Emily stewed about the home she’d bought. Sarah McGregor’s remarks about her son’s construction business had made her realize she shouldn’t wait any longer to find a company to do the renovations. It could take a while to decide on the right contractor and get them to schedule Wild Rose Cottage, her name for the neglected Arts and Crafts–style house.
After her employees had taken their lunch breaks, Emily returned home, determined to start setting up appointments to get bids on the renovations. Stopping on the front walk, she wondered if she had been a little insane to buy it. The place needed a new roof and windows, a full paint job, the front porch replaced...and that was only on the outside. 320 Meadowlark Lane had suffered from over forty years of careless renters.
She’d driven by it often since moving to Schuyler, feeling drawn to the house, then a month ago had spotted a for-sale sign on its weedy lawn. After a quick look inside, she’d purchased it the following day...possibly the second-most-impulsive decision of her life.
Emily didn’t admit it to most people, but she often got feelings about places; she felt as if this one had a sad history and deserved a brighter future. Besides, the house had actual wild roses growing up its trellises. How could you beat that?
Inside, she grabbed a phone book and thumbed through to the small contractor’s section, then checked online. The sensible way was to get competing bids, compare reputations and decide on the best company to do the job. After she’d made a number of appointments, she sat down with a notebook. To compare the bids they would have to cover the same specific pieces of work, so she began to write down everything she wanted done.
It was a long list.
Over the next few days she interviewed several contractors. Trent Hawkins’ representative from Big Sky brought a printed record of recent jobs they’d completed, phone numbers for each client recommendation and copies of letters from satisfied customers. It had seemed like overkill until she’d asked for references from a different company. He’d dragged his feet before finally giving her a few names. Another one promised to email a list, but after five days and two calls, she had stopped hoping it would come.
One bright note had come out of the meetings. The consensus of everyone who’d looked at the house was that it was structurally sound.
Six days after her interviews she had jumbled estimates from two of the contractors. Nothing from Big Sky, though the representative had said it might take up to ten days to ensure it was thorough. Plus, an estimate required
final approval from his boss.
It was a good thing she was a patient woman. A fleeting thought of Dennis crossed her mind and she shrugged. Actually, she’d had too much patience in that regard, but at least she’d learned her lesson.
* * *
LATE THE FOLLOWING Wednesday morning Trent drove to the construction yard, tired but satisfied. One of his mares had foaled in the middle of the night and he’d stayed with her to be sure everything went well. He didn’t consider himself a rancher like the McGregor side of the family, but when the Balderdash Ranch had come up for sale, he’d decided to indulge himself. The Balderdash was small, more of a hobby ranch than anything, but it had enough land for horses and a few head of cattle.
Of course, the house wasn’t much, but “home” didn’t have much meaning for him. For years he’d lived in a back room at the construction yard. He could get by as long as he had basic bathroom facilities, a microwave and a mattress.
And since the Balderdash was adjacent to his cousin’s spread, he could ride for miles without having to stop and speak with anyone. Around Schuyler nobody objected if you rode on their land so long as you closed gates behind you, but he preferred solitude and Jackson’s hands knew to leave him alone.
“Alaina told us about the foal. Aren’t you handing out cigars?” the yard foreman called as Trent swung out of the truck and started for the office.
“I’ll bring two when the next one comes,” Trent promised. He walked toward the structure that had replaced the rickety building he’d used when starting the business. The older structure had served his purposes, but a well-built administrative center was good advertising.
When he’d called Alaina to tell her he would be late, she had told him there was a stack of estimates waiting on his desk for final approval, so he started working on them.
Now that Big Sky Contractors had grown to its current size, with five satellite construction yards, he had a full-time employee who met with potential clients throughout their service area and put the proposals together. Kenny was good at his job and it usually didn’t take long to approve the estimates. But two thirds of the way through the stack, Trent stopped and stared at one for 320 Meadowlark Lane.
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