bin you can keep on-site for a few weeks.”
“I really appreciate you leasing me the dozer.”
“No worries. I’ll give you the old-friend discount and send Lou out to show you the basics, but it’s not anything too difficult.”
After thanking him, Tripp hung up and looked around, assessing. Vines and tangled brush needed to be cleared so he could create workspace for the renovation. The house was structurally solid, but it had been neglected. Still, nothing some good, hard elbow grease and a buttload of money couldn’t fix. And Tripp was good at elbow grease since he’d worked his way through college working for a contractor. He knew enough to be dangerous.
Dangerous.
Something flickered in his gut as he walked to the car, popped the trunk and pulled out two duffle bags and an ice chest. Mary Belle Prudhomme.
The woman had looked like cherry pie with a side of cream. Lush, decadent, with a hint of tartness.
Tripp had always loved a good piece of cherry pie.
And he felt hungry.
Which bothered him.
After the way his childhood crush had rejected and humiliated him in high school, he should want nothing to do with her. But still, she made him long to forgive the sting to his pride, to forget the way everyone had ragged on him about getting stood up, to forget she’d chosen Bear Rodrigue over him.
But he needed to ignore the memory of Mary Belle laughing, of her wearing that bikini, of that one innocent kiss beneath the swaying willow.
Yeah, he had enough on his plate without mooning over his once-upon-a-time dream girl.
But deep down, mixed in with his plan for redemption, was another reason he’d come home—Mary Belle Prudhomme.
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