Mixed Up with a Marine

Chapter 1-2

“Are you sure you want to take on this train wreck?”

Mia Whitmore ignored the skepticism from her best friend and stroked a hand along the stone that made up one wall of the kitchen. It had been part of the original cabin that had stood on the site, and she appreciated its inclusion into the design of the overall house. Even if the designer had been drunk or high. She hadn’t been able to decide which. “Too late for regrets now. I already closed on the property.”

Luca Gallo blew out a breath. “Well, I guess it’s not the hardest flip we’ve ever done.”

“Nothing will ever top that c***k house you talked me into helping you convert right after we met.” They’d redone the two-bedroom bungalow he’d gotten for pennies on the dollar from rafters to floor joists. She’d loved nearly every minute.

“Hey, we made a tidy profit on that house when the neighborhood gentrified. And you fell into a career you loved.”

“For which I thank you, oh wise one.”

“Still, I see now why you wanted me to come out to Tennessee. You’re gonna need all the help you can get with this thing.”

She nudged his shoulder with her own. “I wanted you to come out because I miss your ugly face and because you needed a change, not because I wanted free labor.”

In truth, this house wasn’t a flip. It would be a labor of love; one she didn’t want anyone else’s hands on. At least not more than strictly necessary for the elements that would require more than her two hands. With this purchase, she was taking ownership of a dream that had once been shared. One she’d held onto for far too long.

Almost ten years. After all this time, she had to admit her estranged husband was never coming back to her. She knew what he believed, and he hadn’t been interested in explanations. She’d long ago given up trying. Leaving Washington to start over here in Eden’s Ridge had been her first step in trying to move on with her life. In the past two years, she’d begun putting down true roots in Tennessee. She was half owner in a business she loved and, in the friends she’d made here, she’d begun to build the kind of family she hadn’t had.

But she hadn’t given up on Brax, hadn’t relinquished that last kernel of hope that maybe… maybe there was some circumstance where they could find their way back to each other. And it was time to move on. Deep down, she knew that. So, when she’d found the house, so much what they’d dreamed of in all its mismatched, rambling glory, set into the side of the mountain, she’d taken the plunge.

By the time she finished the renovation, maybe she’d be able to finally let him go. To exorcise the ghost of him in the manifestation of the dream they’d once spoken of in intimate whispers, curled up in bed in their cramped, drafty studio apartment. Then she’d decide whether to live here, turn it into one of her vacation rentals, or straight up sell it. Either way, the renovation would take months in her off time from Mountainview Construction. She was okay with that. Therapy took time.

“I missed your face, too, Mia.”

Luca’s uncharacteristically serious tone set off alarm bells, reminding her of one of the other reasons she’d left Washington. She’d begun to suspect that her best friend might harbor more than just platonic feelings for her. Mia couldn’t go there with him. Couldn’t go there with anyone. She wasn’t free to pursue a relationship, even if she’d wanted to. Which she didn’t. She’d come to Tennessee hoping that the distance would give her some clarity, and she’d convinced herself that she’d imagined the whole thing and balked at nothing. Especially when he’d begun seriously dating and gotten engaged about six months after she’d left.

She’d missed Luca. Missed having someone who understood her. Someone who shared a common language built on years of friendship. So, when his fiancée had broken things off three months before their planned wedding, leaving him high and dry for an investment banker who was more champagne and caviar than beer and nachos, she’d invited him to come east for a while and work for her, trying the area on for size. She hoped like hell she hadn’t made a mistake because, as much progress as she’d made, she didn’t have the bandwidth to cope with feelings she couldn’t return.

Flashing a smile in his direction, she meandered toward the living room. “Well, I say we celebrate your new residency in Eden’s Ridge with a night out at Elvira’s Tavern so I can prove I’m still the world’s best wingwoman. January’s slower for the tourist trade, but there will be some, and I can think of a handful of locals who are going to be all over that blond Italian hotness.”

He trotted after her. “Is that your plan, then? Entangle me with a local, so I move here permanently?”

“You know me so well.” She stopped in front of a 1970s brick monstrosity of a fireplace. “Now, put your professional hat on. Imagine ripping out this horrifying excuse for a fireplace and replacing it with river rock going all the way up. I’d vault the ceiling here to give it some loft. Put up a big, live-edge beam across just there for a mantle and build out the hearth.”

Luca nodded, his brown eyes sparkling as his interest piqued. “Now you’re talking.” He pivoted to the wall across from the fireplace, where a row of three small double-paned windows showed signs of moisture between the glass. “You could knock those out and put in a big picture window to take advantage of that view.”

“I’m doing one better. Opening the whole space with accordion doors that will lead out to a big a*s deck and entertainment space. It’ll be a bit of a tricky build, with the slope the way it is, but it’s doable, and that view can’t be beat.”

“Will the higher humidity here be an issue for those doors?”

They lost themselves in the familiar banter of the work they both loved as they wandered through the house, discussing possibilities. She enjoyed sharing her vision with someone who could see and appreciate it before the first hammer was swung, and she liked the additional considerations he brought up. It would be her house, not a perfect execution of that long ago dream. She could consider other suggestions. Not to mention, she knew a hell of a lot more now as a professional contractor than she had at nineteen. She’d improve on the vision, work with what was here, excise what didn’t fit. It was what she was doing with her life, after all.

As they completed their tour back in the kitchen, Luca slumped back against the counter and crossed his arms. “Well, I still think you’re crazy. It’ll be a ton of work. But it’ll be a helluva property when you’re through.”

“That’s the idea. Now, how are you feeling about pizza and beer? Elvira’s is the best around.”

“Isn’t it also the only pizza around?”

“I mean, yeah.” Eden’s Ridge only had a year-round resident population of only a little under three thousand people. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t good.”

“Fair point. I’m amenable. I haven’t hit up that food group today.”

“Then let’s get a move on. I—” The opening bars of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” blared from Mia’s back pocket. “Hang on. This might be related to work.” She dug out her phone. “Hello?”

“Mia Whitmore?”

Something in the man’s flat, formal delivery had more of those inner alarm bells ringing. Whatever this was, it wasn’t work.

“Speaking.”

“I’m calling on behalf of a mutual friend.”

She froze, recognizing the long-ago established code. “We haven’t been in touch in quite some time.”

“I understand. I’m sorry to say, our mutual friend is dead.”

Mia’s breath wheezed out like air from a punctured tire, and she wilted back against the nearest wall. “When?”

“Last week. Heart attack. We’re closing out his… projects and thought you’d want to know.”

Projects. Plural. So maybe she hadn’t been the only one.

Aware of Luca’s concerned gaze, she locked down the spiral of automatic anxiety and questions. “Yes, I appreciate you letting me know.”

“To be clear, we consider those projects wrapped.”

Translation: If anything happens, you’re on your own.

Well, she’d effectively been on her own for almost a decade, so nothing much would change there.

“Understood.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Whitmore.” The caller hung up before she could reply.

Mia lowered the phone. “I’m gonna have to cancel on dinner.”