His Secret Son

There didn’t seem to be an answer to that question, so she chose to respond to Ryder instead. “I like the idea of keeping the natural wood on the porch. What about the railing and—fascia, wasn’t it?”

He nodded. “I’ll try to match that with the trim on the house or we could add another color if your grandmother would like that.”

“Matching the trim would be best.” Although the painted ladies, as the Victorian houses were called, often had a variety of colors along the trim, eaves and fascia, Lindsay didn’t want to go overboard. She had to keep the new buyer in mind. “I do want to thank you,” she said to Ryder, “for being so...sensitive about my gran’s feelings and the work my grandfather did.”

“Me? Sensitive? Wow. Can you write that down so I can show my mother? I don’t think she’ll believe it without proof.”

“It was a bit of a shock to me, too.”

Because there’d been a time when the way Ryder treated her had been anything but sensitive.

The unspoken reminder of the past swirled around them, obscuring the teasing moment. Ryder’s expression sobered. “Lindsay—”

Her stomach clenched. She didn’t know what he was going to say, but she suddenly didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when she still had to face seeing him on a daily basis for weeks to come. “Anyway, I appreciate it. My grandfather did love this place and put a lot of hard work into it. Even if his skill didn’t match his determination.”

“Well, there’s no reason for me to go around bad-mouthing the work he did, but you do know that I’m going to have to start over with most of it, right? The porch is only the beginning, but once I’m done, your gran won’t have to worry about uneven steps or a loose railing anymore.”

“I appreciate that, but it really isn’t my grandmother you’ll be fixing the place up for. Once the repairs are complete, we’re going to put the house up on the market. My parents and I think it’s time for Ellie to move to Phoenix to be with us.”

“Really? What does Ellie think about that?”

Lindsay smiled with a confidence she was far from feeling. “You work on the house, and I’ll work on my grandmother. It’ll take some convincing, but in the end, she’ll see that moving to Phoenix is the best thing for her.”

Chapter Five (#ulink_27547dbc-bfe6-5f36-90bc-7c243a7faf5d)

Most days, Ryder loved working with his hands. Crafting something brand-new or better yet, improving what already existed. He had plenty of opportunities remodeling the old Victorians. Craftsmanship that had stood the test of time and Mother Nature—including the occasional earthquake—couldn’t be found in modern, cookie-cutter track homes. Or even in the high-rises he’d designed back in San Francisco.

Yeah, most days he loved building. But other days—he eyed the wobbly railing on Ellie Brookes’s front porch and gave the wood a solid kick. The shock traveled all the way up his spine along with the satisfying crack of splintering wood.

Other days, mass destruction fit his mood.

Not that he had any reason to feel so...angry. Another blow against the banister with his work boot and another split accompanied by the groan from the rusty old nails. Should have used screws, he thought. But if Lindsay’s grandfather had built a sturdier railing, he wouldn’t have been able to kick the thing down. Might not have needed to kick the damn thing down. Which would have been good for the Brookes, but not so good for him. Because he really felt the need to kick something.