been initiating things and she was turning him down. They often came home tired. She was always busy with her interior design business and closing on the old Victorian, and he worked for one of the top architectural firms in South Texas. But she’d failed to see the signs. They had been going through the motions.
Still, it didn’t mean he had a right to cheat. He’d met his fiancée at the convention and told her it had been love at first sight, and that he couldn’t pretend any more with Mari.
Pretend.
She took another deep breath. The hurt still stabbed at her chest.
I’m over him.
I’m lucky he’s out of my life.
Her brain believed her. Her heart, not so much.
Focus on dinner.
After digging around in her many boxes, she found the small red bowls that matched the plates she wanted to use. It was late January in Corpus Christi, which meant eating outside would be chilly, but fine with a fire. She took some wood from the cord she’d bought, then dashed through the house and stacked it in the fire pit out back.
Then she set the old wooden harvest table she’d stored there on the deck.
She opened the garage door to let out the smell from the meat that was cooking, and standing there was the dreamy Marine with a confused expression on his face.
Not expecting him to be standing there, she jumped and maybe screamed...a little.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Uh, why are you cooking in your garage?”
“Long story.” Now she’d have to recount her very ugly history with this darn house. If he didn’t already think her lame, he would soon.
Oh, well.
It’s not like you wanted to make him yours.
Liar.
“Follow me and I’ll explain everything.”
BRODY FOLLOWED HIS neighbor through her house, which looked like a war zone, and after several tours in the desert, he’d been in a few. It wasn’t junky, but most of the walls had been taken down to the studs. And the wood floor had large holes in it.
“Watch your step,” she warned as she led him out to the backyard. “There were plumbing issues and they had to rip up some of the boards to find the pipes under the house. One of the five million things that have gone wrong since I bought this place.”
The despair in her voice was clear. Why was someone like her living in this mess? He’d seen her in heels and brightly colored dresses when she came home at night. Even in her shorts and jersey she was immaculate. It didn’t make any sense.
“I knew we, I mean I, was in for a lot of work, but I really underestimated the project. If I’d done this with one of my clients, I’d have been fired.”
They stepped out onto a wooden deck. There was a table set with smart-looking ceramic bowls positioned near a fire pit. Strings of twinkling lights wrapped around the wood posts and portico. This was more of what he expected from Mari’s house. It was casual but in an elegant sort of way.
“Clients?” he asked as he sat the chips and salsa on the table.
“I’m an interior designer. I have my own firm, but I work with architectural and construction companies around Corpus Christi and South Texas to design spaces from the ground up.”
He didn’t know anything about design, but he’d helped out at his uncle’s construction company every summer in North Carolina. His family had moved a lot over the years, but the summers at his uncle’s were something Brody looked forward to when school was out. Even though it was hard going, he’d enjoyed being a part of building homes, or at other times doing smaller remodeling jobs. From the look of her house, she had a hard road ahead of her.
“I can guess what you’re thinking.” She laughed. “I’m insane. You aren’t wrong.”
He laughed, too.
She glanced at the table. “I forgot the taco shells and sangria. Or would you rather have beer?”
“I’m good with water.” Alcohol made the headaches worse and the headaches led to nightmares of his men screaming, waking him up in the early morning hours. The other night he’d left the ceiling fan on and he’d freaked out for a few seconds, imagining the blades from the Viper helicopter coming at him. Once he’d realized what was going on, he sent his fist through the bedroom wall.
Another patch job to add to his list of things to fix around the rental.
Most of the older homes in the neighborhood were stately and needed a lot of upkeep. His rental wasn’t as big as Mari’s, but it was just as old. Most of her Victorian had been remodeled, he noticed.
She frowned. “Oh, are you an, um— Sorry.”
“No, I don’t have a drinking problem. I can drink. But I want to lay off for a while. Been getting headaches and alcohol only seems to fuel them.” Why was he telling her that? It would lead to more questions.
“Got it. Were you injured? Uh, I don’t want to pry.” Yep. More questions.
“Yes.” He couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t talk to anyone about it. “My last tour we hit a bad patch.” That was putting it mildly. But Brody refused to think about that flight.
She smiled and then touched his arm. It was a kind gesture. “Oh. Sorry I brought it up. Okay. Be right back.”
He wished she’d just tell him what it was that she wanted to talk about. Her proposal. And he really hoped it wasn’t to do with sex, although that’s pretty much all he’d thought about for the last hour. He didn’t think he’d be able to tell her no, but it was the wrong choice for him right now.
“That’s a lot to carry, I’ll help.”
“No problem. I got it. If you don’t mind, maybe you could get the fire going?” She handed him a lighter from her pocket. “The temperature’s good, but as the sun goes down it will get pretty cool out here.”
“Sure.” He should have suggested that they eat at his house, but he was worried about offending her. More than ever he was curious about whatever proposal she had. Strange that she’d invite him for a meal when she didn’t have a proper kitchen. Not that he was one to judge. There were many times he’d used a hot plate, either in the barracks or at a temporary camp.
She emerged from the house with a pitcher of sangria in one hand and in the other hand she held a plate full of taco shells. She’d also tucked a bottle of water under one arm.
He grabbed the pitcher and the water and put them on the table.
“I had to heat the shells up in the microwave. Usually I’d do that in the oven, but I probably won’t have one for another three weeks, and that’s if the cabinetmaker finishes on time. His wife is having twins, so it’s
