thinking of his uncle, an eighty-eight-year-old man with late-stage dementia, was an added weight on Nick’s already burdened heart.
His plate was full to overflowing, but he wouldn’t allow himself to complain. Ranch work kept him plenty busy on its own, and he couldn’t count on his brother Jax to lend a hand as much anymore, since Jax’s miserable harpy of an ex-wife had come to town the day of the auction and abandoned month-old twin babies on his doorstep. The baby girls were adorable and an absolute blessing through and through—but that didn’t stop them from being a lot of work. With the hours they kept Jax up every night, it was a struggle for him to get through his own horse training work every day, much less help with the ranching responsibilities. Slade had his family and his work at the sheriff’s department to keep him busy. So that meant it all fell to Nick.
With everything going on, his stress level was off the scale. The sooner he remodeled Viv’s quaint little beauty parlor, the sooner he could get out from under his obligation to her and go back to his primary concerns—his family, the ranch and the senior center.
He and Viv were both gazing up at the weathered wooden sign hanging directly over them from the eaves over the sidewalk. It was barely dangling by a thread. The thing was downright dangerous. He was surprised a good Texas wind hadn’t blown it off by now.
He pulled out the pencil he’d tucked behind his ear to scribble a few notes on his clipboard. The hazardous sign was the first item on what he imagined was going to be a very long list of things to do to get this place in working order. He couldn’t even imagine what the interior of the building held in store for him.
“I didn’t bring a ladder,” he said, his free hand resting on his tool belt. He’d known he’d eventually have to bring a truck full of heavy-duty tools to remodel this joint—from a planer to a circular saw and everything in between, but he figured evaluating the work and making a plan of action came first. “We’ve got to get that sign down. Today, if possible.”
He still had no idea what he was getting into, but he figured he ought to at least give Vivian her money’s worth in knowledge and labor. The outside of the place only needed a fresh coat of paint and it would be good to go, but he suspected that wouldn’t be true of the interior.
“I noticed the sign the first day I was here. I know it’s a potential hazard to people walking underneath. I can’t imagine why it hasn’t been removed before now.”
“Nor I,” Nick agreed. “You’d think the town council would be on top of something like that. They probably just overlooked it. No matter. You’ll need to hang a new sign anyway. What are you going to call the place?”
Vivian propped her fists on her hips and screwed up her mouth, chewing on her bottom lip. She stared at the old sign as if it was going to give her guidance.
“To be honest, I don’t know. I’m sure something will come to me once I get more of a feel for the place. It has to be exactly right.”
“What did you call your spa in Houston?”
“Viv’s Vitality.”
“That’s clever. You could use that.”
She blanched and shook her head.
“No,” she stated emphatically. “No. I absolutely couldn’t do that. The salon in Houston is part of my old life. This has to be completely different, in every way.”
He lifted his hand as if toasting her with a glass of bubbly. “Here’s to new beginnings, then.”
Her breath came out in an audible sigh. “Right. To new beginnings.”
“Let’s take a look inside and then I’ll run over to Emerson’s and see if they’ll let me borrow a ladder.”
That was one of the many benefits of small-town living. Nick had gone to school with Eddie Emerson, who would one day inherit his father’s hardware shop. Since he’d known Eddie and his father all his life, he was sure it would be no problem to use one of their ladders to take down that sign.
Vivian shoved her hand into an enormously oversize pink-polka-dot handbag that sported a bow nearly as large as the bag itself. At least a good minute of fruitless searching went by before she smiled and shrugged apologetically before returning to digging. He was certain she’d forgotten the keys, but she determinedly continued to fish for them. “They’re in here somewhere.”
He smothered a grin. What could she possibly need to carry around with her that warranted such a big handbag?
“Ah! Here we are,” she announced triumphantly, waving her keys in the air like a flag. She sorted through a large mess of keys until she came upon the one she wanted, and then approached the door.
Nick stepped around her and reached for the key.
“Here. Let me,” he said, sliding it into the lock and stepping back, gesturing for her to enter first. “Welcome to your new home away from home.”
He blinked hard.
His new home away from home? More like his new nightmare.
He’d imagined the interior would take some work—okay, a lot of work—but this was even worse than he’d anticipated. There was nothing salvageable that he could see. At best the paint was peeling off the walls, and that didn’t count the numerous scratches and holes. Repainting wouldn’t be nearly good enough. They’d need all new drywall.
The ground was covered with rotting floorboards scattered with a huge amount of old junk. Besides ancient piles of feed, there was a rusty tricycle, an old end table that appeared to be cracked through the middle, random bricks and an ugly garden gnome that stared back at him as if he were the intruder.
It would take them a week working full-time just to clear the debris, never mind prepare the inside for remodeling. He hadn’t committed to this kind of labor.
But he was all-in now. And maybe that was for the best—at least for his social standing. Vivian knew nothing of his recent dating history, so she didn’t know that he was practically a pariah thanks to his vicious ex poisoning everyone against him. But Vivian had always been well liked. If he spent time with her, helping her, making sure he was seen with her, it was bound to give his reputation an upswing. It would show the rest of the town that he could be near a woman without having her run screaming in the other direction.
Or even worse, be screaming at him.
In public.
It wasn’t that he had any romantic intentions toward Viv, but he had to start somewhere in polishing up his public image if he ever wanted to get a date again. Besides, this project wouldn’t last forever. It would be a race to see whether he could finish the project before Vivian discovered the truth about him. His most recent pathetic excuse for a relationship wasn’t exactly a state secret, and he was sure Viv had plenty of friends who would be anxious to tell her the whole story.
Anyway, who else would help Vivian with this disaster of a shop if not he? She wouldn’t have bid on him if she had anywhere else to go, or anyone else to lean on. He suspected she hadn’t had enough money to hire a proper contractor, although she hadn’t said as much.
He didn’t blame her for her pride. In fact, he admired her for it.
Yes,
