At Wild Rose Cottage

Beaming, Emily turned back to the paint samples. “It’s like being at Disneyland,” she said. “All the colors and possibilities are spread out in front of me. The renovations haven’t even started, so it’s a long way from getting painted, but I thought I’d get sample strips.”

After picking out a huge selection of color samples, Emily headed home to start thumbtacking them to the walls.

“Don’t worry,” she assured the house, “better days are coming.”

* * *

ON MONDAY MORNING Emily couldn’t believe that she’d overslept when she woke up at 6:30 a.m. Of course, she’d been working at her computer until after 3:00 a.m., so that probably explained it. The Big Sky crew was arriving soon, so she bounced out of bed and dressed fast. The doorbell squawked and she ran barefoot to open the door.

Trent Hawkins stood on the porch.

“Uh, hi,” she said. “Is something wrong? Oh, don’t tell me your crew can’t start today. I mean, I know you have four extra weeks, but...well, if you can’t, you can’t. When—”

He held a hand up and Emily stopped talking. She knew she was babbling, but it had been a huge shock to see him.

“We’re still starting today and the rest of the crew will be here shortly,” Trent told her.

“The rest of the crew?” she repeated, foggy from her short night of sleep.

“I can’t do it all myself.”

“But I didn’t think you’d be working here.” Emily stopped, realizing how dismayed she’d sounded. “I mean, you own the company and must have other things to do.”

If Trent had recognized how she felt, nothing showed on his face. “This is the busy season for construction companies, so I’m taking the lead on this job. But don’t be concerned. I’m fully qualified.”

“It isn’t that.”

Emily didn’t doubt his qualifications—she just didn’t want him around. So far he’d acted rude and pushy. Of course, she shouldn’t assume rude and pushy was his true personality...he might be chauvinistic, bad-tempered and obstinate, as well. While Schuyler obviously respected Trent as a contractor, nobody seemed comfortable with him.

Still, the renovations might get done faster if he was the foreman, and his employees would be on their toes under the boss’s gaze, so it could work out for the best.

With that conclusion, she stood aside to let him come in.

“Which area do you want tackled first?” he asked.

“Um...the kitchen is hideous. I barely go in there because the floor is sagging so badly. But I don’t know if I’ll be doing much cooking anyway, not with dust and stuff flying around. So start wherever you think works best.”

He nodded briskly. “We’ll hang plastic sheeting to help contain dust, but it will still be a problem. You might want to find another place to live while the work is being completed—or at least during the initial stages while we’re tearing stuff out.”

Emily shook her head. “Not a chance. The room I’m using as a bedroom is at the back and has a bath connected, so if I keep the door closed, it shouldn’t be too bad in there. After everything else is finished, I’ll move, and leave that room and bath free for the work it needs.”

“If you say so.”

She had a strange feeling he was disappointed and she told herself not to take it personally; he was just thinking about making things easier for his crew. Anyway, it was her fish to fry if she wanted to stay.

The doorbell squawked again and soon four more men stood inside her living room.

“This is Eduardo, Vince, Mike and Cav... Chuck,” Trent told her.

“Great to meet you.”

She watched as Trent efficiently assigned tasks.

Eduardo was a silver-haired man with a jolly expression. Trent sent him to examine plumbing issues. Vince was tall and skinny, with long fingers that carefully began removing the older light fixtures she hoped to preserve. Mike looked vaguely familiar, so she might have already seen him around town. He walked with a limp, but seemed quite strong as he went through the kitchen’s swinging door to start removing the ancient painted plywood cabinets.

The last one, Chuck, had a round, solid build. Before he went to check the basement—a dismal space that had never been finished—he nodded to her and said, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Everybody calls me Caveman.”

Caveman?

Emily tried not to laugh. He looked like a caveman with his bushy hair and beard, but she suspected he’d earned the moniker for reasons that went beyond his appearance.

Trent consulted a diagram on his clipboard and began tapping on the downstairs wall that Emily wanted removed. “There’s no need for you to be here,” he told her over his shoulder. “Why don’t you go out to breakfast or head to your store?”

She hesitated. “Maybe later.”

Despite the early hour, she could always find something to keep her busy at the Emporium. Breakfast also sounded appealing and there was a café near her shop. The dust and noise would be unpleasant while the construction crew was working, so it really didn’t make sense to stay. But Trent’s presence made her uncomfortable. While she knew construction companies were busiest in summer, she didn’t think that was the sole explanation for him being at Wild Rose Cottage.

Trent Hawkins had another motive.

* * *

AS TRENT CHECKED the wall, his gaze flicked over the spots he had patched as a kid. The house had been a war zone when he’d lived there. His dad would walk in the front door, drunk, and before long he’d start punching—furniture, walls, his family, it hadn’t made much difference to Gavin Hawkins. He’d been known for his charm all over Schuyler, but he’d never brought it home with him.

His mother had been afraid that people would guess, and that the landlord would throw fits at the damage, so Trent had learned to repair whatever got broken.

It turned out that holes could disappear faster than bruises. His first patching jobs had been rough, but he’d quickly become skilled at covering up the evidence of his family’s rotten little secret.

Now it was years later and a number of walls were scheduled to come down, along with all the crap he’d stuffed inside of them. But he wasn’t going to start while Emily was watching, so he went into the kitchen to help remove cabinets. They couldn’t be salvaged, having being poorly made and abused for decades.

Normally Trent deplored not being able to recycle, yet there would be a curious satisfaction in ripping them down and sledgehammering them into pieces.

He just wished his memories could be disposed of so efficiently.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_db19cc9a-22b2-530c-a390-92a36d4ca735)

MIDMORNING THE SQUEAL of brakes signaled a large truck had stopped outside the house. Trent went to look through the front windows and nodded with approval. Alaina had arranged for a large Dumpster to be delivered and it had arrived on schedule. He stepped out and gestured to the spot in front of the house where he wanted the container.

Emily had dashed outside as well and stood watching as the large metal box was put in place. She winced as a lilac bush was crushed.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” the truck driver said when he came around to check the container’s placement.

She sighed. “I guess there wasn’t any other good place for it.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Let’s shift it out a little and the bush might come back,” urged the second employee, who gave Emily a broad, appraising smile. Trent had seen Billy come on to women often enough to recognize his typical moves.

Annoyed both by the delay and Billy’s propensity to waste time flirting, Trent waited while the two city employees shifted the container. It seemed unlikely the mangled bush would survive, but Emily appeared to appreciate the gesture. Then he opened the end of the Dumpster and lowered the wall, hinged at the base, to the ground. This way, much of the debris could be walked in and stacked.