A Heart to Call Home

A Heart to Call Home

Amanda Torrey

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Amanda Torrey

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpts from The Counterfeit Bride by Liberty Blake were used with the permission of the author.

Copyright 2013 by Carolyn Sullivan. All Rights Reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Dedicated to Jamie Bonchu

A friend since our teen years, a voracious fan, and a never-ending fountain of positivity. Wishing you the happiest (and steamiest) of happily-ever-afters.

Chapter One

Reed Peterson had saved a failing corporation with her talent, her intelligence, her drive, and yes, wearing high heels. She had single-handedly negotiated the city’s best price on the most sought after penthouse in NYC. She had moved mountains that people who considered themselves better than her had told her she’d never budge. She had done all of these things without breaking a sweat. She could damn well pull this giant weed out of the foundation on her new home.

So what if the contractors she had called hadn’t shown up when they were supposed to? Who cared that the cottage motel she had bought after viewing it online was more dilapidated than the photos showed? She had not been foolish, nor too impulsive. She had made a business decision and she would see it through to fruition.

She had certainly faced bigger challenges than this root.

With a not-gentle tug, her hands slipped away from the stubborn root. Her butt made immediate contact with the rocky ground.

And somebody’s boot.

Well that’s one way to greet someone.

The deep voice startled her. She jumped up and turned, brushing an escaped tendril of hair off her face before remembering her hands were encased in dirty work gloves. Oh well, she wasn’t here to impress anyone.

Can I help you? She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, trying to look more dignified.

"I think the question is can I help you?"

She stared at him for a moment. What was he doing on her property?

I’m Rogan. Rogan Douglas. He reached his hand out as he introduced himself. She ignored it.

Even powerful, successful women were vulnerable in the middle of a hick town, all alone. She couldn’t afford to let him think she was weak in any way. She had taken numerous self-defense classes, but he was broad shouldered and full of muscles, and one of the few men she’d encountered who was actually taller than her. She wasn’t about to engage in physical contact of any kind until she knew why he was there.

He dropped his hand and hardened his features.

You called for an estimate.

Oh, Mr. Douglas! She removed her gloves, wiped her hand on her designer jeans (she hadn’t yet invested in clothes suitable for yard work, since she didn’t actually expect to be doing it herself), and gave him a firm handshake. I didn’t think you’d show up.

Why wouldn’t I? We had an appointment.

Yes, but five other guys had appointments, too. Only one showed up. She left out the part about the alcohol on the guy’s breath and the fact that he had been on her property for less than five minutes before he offered her a drag off his joint.

Sorry to hear that, miss.

Miss? Did she look like a young girl? She was a CEO for crying out loud. Well, former CEO.

Call me Reed.

Is that short for something?

Yes. Now follow me.

"Nice to meet you, Reed."

She stopped short and turned to face him. By the tone of his voice, she guessed he had other opinions about meeting her, but he was polite enough not to voice them.

He erased the hint of a scowl from his face and replaced it with a smile that looked painful.

Nice to meet you, as well. Please follow me and I’ll show you around. You can tell me if you’re capable of the tasks that need completion. I’d appreciate a written estimate by eight o’clock tomorrow morning.

He nodded. Something about him made shivers run up her spine—and not the bad kind of shivers, either. In fact, her hormones seemed to wake up to remind her that they were still there and that they had a function to serve.

She shoved that thought into the deep recesses of her clearly warped mind. She pivoted, expecting him to follow.

He wasn’t her type—he was too working class. She didn’t mean to be a snob, but she was attracted to men with drive. Men who matched her determination to race to the top.

Not men who dressed in faded t-shirts, dirty jeans, and drove battered, gas-guzzling, environmentally unfriendly SUVs.

You like kids?

She stopped in her tracks. This wasn’t a getting-to-know-you session. This was business.

Of course I do. Who doesn’t?

Great.

He turned toward his vehicle and waved. Three kids came tumbling out of the SUV and bouncing toward them. A fourth kid unbuckled a baby and strolled more leisurely over. Two dogs jumped out of the open door and started roughhousing on the overgrown grass.

What—

Is this how they did things in New Hampshire? In New York City, people didn’t mix business with family. They had daycare.

Hope you don’t mind. School just got out for the summer and they can’t stand to be cooped up for long.

The CEO in her threatened to chastise him for unprofessional behavior. But she heard her mother’s laid back voice in the back of her head, reminding her to celebrate life and go with the flow.

Since this entire mission was her way of honoring her mother—and changing the direction of her life—she figured she’d have to listen to that intrusive inner voice.

They’re adorable. She smiled in an attempt to cover the fact that she had spoken through slightly clenched teeth.

The look he gave her told her he saw straight through her words. Thankfully, he didn’t call her on it.

She wasn’t lying when she said she liked kids. Of course she did. What wasn’t to like? It was adorable how two of the younger ones were digging holes with sticks in her once-grand, desperately in need of rehab driveway.

And the way the baby wore nothing but a diaper and was trying to scratch the face of the older boy who was holding it? Sweet.

Dad, can you take her?

Yeah, hand her over.

Reed watched with great interest as the man’s face transformed into that of caregiver. His eyes widened and he smiled into the laughing face of the baby girl.

How old is she?

She shocked herself with her interest. Yeah, she liked kids, but maybe more in theory than in actuality.

Almost one. Aren’t you, my big girl?

Cute. She took a deep breath. His use of baby talk with the youngster created a sensation in her she didn’t recognize. A yearning? Impossible. Anyway, if you’d rather come back another time?

No. He kissed the baby’s head and moved her to the side, where she wrapped her chubby legs around his waist and clung to the front of his shirt. I’m ready to see what you’ve got. Hey, you guys take the dogs for a little run down the street. Watch the kids, Dylan.

K.

How old is your oldest?

Rogan pried the laughing baby’s fingers off his lip. He’s ten. He’s a great kid.

Is he old enough to be watching the others?

He’s very responsible. Now look, I’m here to quote you for a job, not to get parenting advice.

She straightened her back until she thought it might break. He wanted to get snippy with her? No problem. She had fried bigger fish than him in the corporate world.

Right this way.

Rogan handed the baby off to the oldest boy, grabbed a pencil and small notebook out of his back pocket, and took notes as she started rattling off her to-do list.

Halfway through the tour of the property, one of the little curly-haired boys came running over, holding his hand out to show his father whatever treasure he had discovered.

Rogan excused himself and crouched down to see.

Reed nearly jumped out of her skin when a frog bounced out of the little boy’s hands, over Rogan’s shoulder, and straight onto her.

She leapt back, frantically wiping the front of her shirt as she watched the little bugger hop away. The boy squealed in delight before imitating Reed’s, ahem, girlie reaction.

Guess we know now what it takes to get her ruffled. Rogan rubbed his kid’s hair as the tyke laughed hysterically.

I did not sound like that. Reed crossed her arms over her chest, hoping her heart would steady. She was a city woman through and through. Clearly country living was going to be an adjustment.

Did too! The boy screeched again, and Reed wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or chastise the kid.

And I am far from ruffled.

Coulda fooled me. Rogan’s deep blue eyes twinkled as he made fun of her.

"Could have. Are you ready to get back to work?"

Reed jutted her chin into the air, but not before seeing the mocking expression Rogan made to his kid.

That’s professional. She delivered the words with her most corrective tone. She needed to put him in his place if they were to have a chance at a successful working relationship. She had learned the hard way that a woman in a male-dominated world had to show her grit from the first moment, or she’d forever be seen as weak.

So is correcting someone else’s grammar.

Okay, so it had been a cheap shot. She didn’t normally go around correcting people the way she had corrected him, but something about him made her want to lash out at him.

And to strip his shirt off to see if his chest and ab muscles were as well-developed as his arms.

Reed Peterson!

Though not a woman known to blush, Reed marched ahead to make absolute certain Rogan would never read the perverse, unbidden thoughts on her face.

She channeled her inner ice princess—the one her ex-husband had always criticized—and forged ahead.

They had already done the tour of the main house, the front cottages, and a shed whose fate she hadn’t decided (tear down or repair—she needed an expert opinion.) They had followed what remained of the trail into the woods, along the brook, to check on the condition of some other cottages.

She couldn’t hear him following, so she stopped short and looked back.

He had stopped to pull some weeds away from an old, rusty pile of junk. First on her list was calling someone to remove that eyesore.

This will be amazing when you get it fixed up. I didn’t even know it was back here. And I’ve lived here my whole life. His voice was tinged with a child-like charisma, an enthusiasm she didn’t believe she had ever possessed.

That old thing? I’m having that removed as soon as possible. Imagine a nice peace garden with a Koi pond in its place.

You can’t get rid of it. It’s a carousel. You could make a great play area back here.

I don’t think I’ll need that in my adults-only resort.

He spun around and looked at her as though she had emerged from a spaceship and spoke perfect Alienese.

Adults only?

Yes. That’s the plan.

He shook his head. No way will that work around here.

Of course it will. With all of the individually styled cottages, I think adults will love the privacy. Adults need a place to run away to every now and then. There are plenty of kid-friendly places. This is going to be a quiet, serene spa-like experience.

You’re crazy.

Excuse me?

You just moved here, right?

Today. She stood straighter, if possible. She had already had a ridiculously long day, and the end was not in sight. After she finished with him, she had to attempt to make at least one area livable so she’d have a place to sleep. And shower.

I’m telling you. I’ve lived here my whole life. No way in hell will an adults-only resort fly.

She narrowed her eyes and studied the man she had hoped to hire. Though he looked normal—light brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, in need of a shave, but otherwise pretty good looking—he obviously didn’t know how to keep his opinions to himself. She didn’t ask him for advice on running her business. She only wanted him to do manual labor. The stuff she preferred not to do herself.

She placed her hands on her waist and felt her flat belly rise with the deep breath she forced herself to take.

I respect that you’ve chosen to have a gaggle of children and animals, but some adults would like to have a break from the chaos children bring.

"A gaggle of children?"

No offense.

I thought you said you liked kids.

I did. What was with his line of questioning? She didn’t appreciate it. She was hiring him, not vice versa.

Doesn’t sound like it. He mumbled the words as he brushed the dirt from the carousel weeds off his hands, but he might as well have blasted it as loud as a tornado siren.

The pounding of three sets of running feet interrupted the conversation.

Dad! Someone’s here.

Reed thanked the youngster—a different one from the frog catcher. A little younger. A girl, maybe, but Reed couldn’t tell for certain because the hair was cut short and the outfit was boyish. The only indication that the child might have been a girl was the pink stripe on the dirty sneakers, but that could have been an oversight. Or maybe the boy just liked pink.

Reed walked toward the child, and for the first time, Reed noticed that he walked with a limp.

Did you hurt your leg?

Yeah, but not today.

Daddy hurt his self trying to save Mommy, but it didn’t work because—

Sophia, we don’t have to tell that story to people we just met.

So the child was a girl.

And even though Reed had no idea what the girl had been about to say, her sad little eyes made Reed want to pull the girl into her arms and tell her everything would be okay.

I’m sorry, Reed said, but stopped when pain shot across Rogan’s face.

Shall we see who’s here?

I will. You go ahead and check out the last few cabins—let me know what they need.

I’ll come with you! Sophia slipped her small, grubby hand into Reed’s.

Reed tensed. How did one disengage without hurting the feelings of the little human?

Rogan turned away. It was his kid—he should be helping!

Soph—come see this giant worm I found.

The little girl dropped Reed’s hand and ran to her father, eager to witness his discovery.

Reed paused for a moment, watching the small group gather around a puddle near the front of a miniature Victorian-style cottage.

She shook her head and hurried up the path, toward the driveway.

You the new owner?

A man with a clipboard and a manila envelope greeted her as she came around the main house.

That would be me. May I help you?

Yeah, I have these for you. He handed her the large envelope, scribbling something on his clipboard as she investigated the papers.

Violations?

Yes, ma’am. You’ve got fourteen days for the big ones on top, and thirty for the rest.

Reed flipped through the papers, scrutinizing the red, bold letters on the top of each sheet. I just closed on this property last evening; I just arrived today. I’ll need time to prioritize my work schedule.

No, ma’am. This property was scheduled to be razed next week. The town administrator was shocked you were able to purchase it—there had been a mix-up in the paperwork somewhere. The previous owner has ignored every violation we’ve sent out, and we’ve been battling for years now. This old place is a hazard. If you can’t get it into compliance, the town has no choice but to take back the title and eliminate the risk.

Lost in torment and—she couldn’t lie—panic, Reed didn’t notice Rogan’s appearance until he was looking over her shoulder.

Tim, are you the new welcoming committee?

The unwelcome visitor tightened his lips and nodded a greeting to Rogan. I’m here on business.

I can see that. What dirty tricks are the old biddies on the Board up to now?

They aren’t tricks, Rogan. You know yourself the hot button this property has been.

Isn’t it great that such a successful business person has bought it? She’ll have it up and running in no time.

How did he know she was a ‘business person?’

Yeah, I guess. Tim pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. Gotta run. I’ll be back same time next week to check on your progress.

Reed clenched her jaw. I’ll be in touch once I review the law.

It’s all binding, Ms. Peterson. We ran it by legal.

I’ll be running it by my own attorney, sir.

Do what you want. The man pulled the visor of his baseball cap down, probably attempting to hide his scowling eyes. He nodded again to Rogan before huffing his way back to his car.

He pulled out of the driveway, but stopped to talk to a passing car as soon as he was on the street.

Huh, Rogan said, watching the exchange. Looks like he’s chatting it up with Nicholas Bonadello.

Who’s that? And should I care?

Rogan tightened his lips.

He’s your neighbor. Wouldn’t trust him if I were you.

This is a lovely way to start. Reed moaned.

Mind if I take a look? Rogan reached out for the papers.

Have at it. Guess we’ll have some additional items to add to our list.

Eh, you already had this stuff on there. Don’t worry about it. I can commit full-time until we get this place in shape.

His soft, soothing tone warmed her belly like a cup of freshly made chicken soup.

She didn’t need any soup.

Please get me your written estimate and we’ll go from there. She started to walk toward the house. She’d put a call into her sister, a high-powered attorney, if needed, but for now she’d come up with a strategic plan.

Good day to you, too.

She turned around. Why the sarcastic tone?

Is there a problem?

Not at all. But now that you’re living in small-town USA, you might want to dislodge that stick from your—

She held up her hand to ward off his insult.

I get it. You’re intimidated by a powerful woman. I see this all the time.

She couldn’t lie—he was a strange combination of intimidation and eroticism as he narrowed his eyes and deliberately closed the distance. She barely even noticed his limp.

He didn’t stop until he was close enough for her to smell honey on his breath and the crispy clean fabric softener on his shirt. Guess he did his laundry, after all.

He leaned in. She swallowed, then raised an eyebrow.

Intimidated by your power? No. Pissed off because you’re being a bitch? Maybe a little.

Fire gathered in her gut and she opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort.

Dad!

Be right there.

With one raking gaze, he took her breath with him as he limped away toward his kids, who were now gathered by the car.

Ivy has a really yucky diapey!

Oh, the things she wanted to say to him. How fortunate for him that his kids had saved