large—that he could actually do something to fix.
It took two weeks putting in every extra hour he had to get the shop cleared of clutter. Finally, Nick was able to start tearing out the old drywall. He wasn’t surprised when Vivian showed up to help. Right on time, even though technically she had nothing to do at the shop until the construction was farther along.
Just what he needed—Viv underfoot again.
He had—wrongly, apparently—assumed that flighty Viv would quickly lose interest in the day-to-day construction part of the renovation and leave him in peace to finish off the terms of his obligation to her.
That wasn’t happening. Instead, she was always hovering over his shoulder like a bumblebee, asking billions of questions about every little thing and making annoying, if innocent, suggestions on how they—meaning he—might be able to move things along a little faster.
She was determined to have her spa open the week before Thanksgiving. Four months was plenty of time for him to get the remodeling done, even with Viv hovering around, and even if he was only working the odd weekend. But Vivian took it all so seriously, as if the world would end if the shop didn’t open as scheduled.
He wouldn’t have admitted it aloud, but Vivian amused him. She was so certain all the ladies in Serendipity would be anxious to avail themselves of her services for family get-togethers and holiday parties. He didn’t bother telling her that he thought if the ladies in town had managed up until now without the use of a beauty parlor, they’d probably continue to be fine without one.
Today Viv wasn’t hovering quite as much as she was staring at him—or rather, inspecting him, assessing him. Every time his gaze met Viv’s, pinpricks of premonition skittered over his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was watching him with more than just an eye toward the carpentry work he was doing.
For some inexplicable reason, she was examining him—and he didn’t like it one bit. Whenever their gazes met, her impossibly blue eyes would sparkle and her pug little nose would twitch like a kitten’s. And she had the oddest expression on her face. He couldn’t help but wonder if her twin sister, Alexis, had filled her in on his very public breakup with Brittany.
He waited for her to ask, but she remained silent, which in itself was off the mark for Viv.
He turned his back, making it a point to ignore her as he focused on ripping out large chunks of the wall with a mallet and a crowbar. It felt good to be able to physically take a little bit of his anxiety out on the drywall. And while it was aggravating to have Viv hovering behind his shoulder, there was something pleasant in being around a woman, other than his mother, who didn’t treat him like he had the plague.
No single woman in Serendipity wanted anything to do with him. He couldn’t entirely blame them for thinking he wasn’t much of a boyfriend. He’d owned up to his mistakes, both to Brittany and to God. That hadn’t stopped him from getting publically humiliated at last year’s New Year’s Eve party.
Nick cringed as shame and humiliation burned through him. New Year’s Eve the prior year had been the night that changed everything for him, not only socially, but emotionally and spiritually, as well.
He had been working overtime at the ranch all week, nursing sick cattle. The night before New Year’s Eve, he’d barely turned in for the night when his mother called. His father had only been gone for a few months and she was having a rough time emotionally. She asked if he could come and sit with her for a while.
He’d ended up staying with her long into the night, keeping her company as she grieved through her first set of holidays without her husband, Jenson. She’d talked for a long time, sharing her memories of Christmases past.
Nick had quietly held her, but it was tough for him to listen to her stories, an extra proverbial punch in the gut, because he hadn’t been there when his father passed away. He’d been too busy caring for the ranch, resenting Slade and Jax for leaving him with all the work while they took extra trips to San Antonio to be with their ailing dad.
It was a regret he carried in his heart always, so the opportunity to be available to care for his mother when she needed him seemed the very least he could do to try to make things right.
When he’d woken on the morning of New Year’s Eve, he’d been bone weary, but ranch work stopped for no man and Nick had worked from before dawn until well after the sun went down.
He was supposed to be slicking up to take Brittany to Serendipity’s annual New Year’s Eve bash in town. He’d only slouched onto his couch for a second to take a load off his feet and catch his breath. He hadn’t even been aware of closing his eyes until three hours later, when he’d awoken with a start from a deep, dreamless sleep. Somehow he’d gone from sitting up to stretched out full-length, facedown on the couch, with one long leg dangling off the end.
He remembered with alarming clarity the full moon streaming through the front window of his small cabin. It had taken him a few seconds just to figure out where he was, and another beat more before the jolt of realization hit him.
He was late to the party.
Way late.
Like missed-the-kiss-at-midnight kind of late.
He’d dressed in his Sunday go-to-meeting clothes as quick as he could and hightailed it to the party, but he knew even then he was too late to make things right. He felt terrible about letting Brittany down—again—but not nearly as bad as he felt when she verbally tanned his hide right in front of the entire town.
Part of the problem was that her tongue-lashing tested his pride and ego—she might have been angry with him, and rightly so, but she didn’t have to air their dirty laundry in public for everyone to see. Still, once he’d simmered down, the harder blow came when he’d realized she was right.
He had let her down. Had neglected her. Had broken trust with her. Enough that the single women in Serendipity as a whole tended to avoid him, and every woman he’d asked for a date since that time had turned him down flat.
A man could get a complex. How was he supposed to prove that he’d learned his lesson and that he could do better if no one would give him a chance?
And that was the real reason he was committed to seeing Vivian’s project through to completion, however silly he thought the idea of a salon and spa was on a personal level. To prove to the ladies in town—and, perhaps equally important, to himself—that folks could depend on him. That he was trustworthy, and not a total flake.
“How can I help?” Vivian asked, snapping him from his reverie.
“Bring me the push broom, please,” he answered without turning to look at her. “It’s in the back corner.”
The next moment he heard a thunk, and then a crumble and then a crash.
What—?
He whirled to find Vivian sprawled in an inglorious heap in the middle of a pile of old drywall, shrapnel from a damaged ceiling panel snowing down on top of her. Apparently, she’d caught her foot on one of the boards, lost her balance and knocked the broom handle into the ceiling, all in the space of a few seconds.
