“Where’s a camera when I need one?” she complained.
“My number’s on the paperwork if you have any questions.” He shut the tailgate and whistled for the dog.
Kevin bounded down the steps, chewy in his mouth like a cigar. He stopped for goodbye pats from Maggie before jumping into the truck.
“By the way, Mags, neither of those estimates includes the ten percent friends-and-future-wife discount you’ll be getting,” he said with a wink.
“Ten?” Her brown eyes took on a shrewd gleam. “Huh. Now, if you had said fifteen, it would have been a no-brainer.”
He kicked at the dirt and put his hands on his hips. “Meet me at twelve, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and he could all but see the calculations happening in her head.
“Maybe. Lemme think.”
He winked and slid behind the wheel.
He was fishing for his keys in the cup holder when she called to him.
“Hey, Sy?”
He leaned out the window. She was standing on the porch just like the first time he’d seen her. Only now he knew just enough about her to make him want to know a hell of a lot more.
“How’d you know I’d be here today?” she asked, shoving her hands in her pockets.
“You just bought yourself a playground. Where else would you be?”
She grinned. And he thought of the football and Michael and Whitecastle.
Throwing her a wave, Silas headed toward town. Windows down, music on, Kevin’s jowls flapping in the wind on the passenger side. He felt good about it. Good about her. And them. Now he’d just wait and hope.
He had a job he wanted to swing by to check the hardscape progress and a shit-ton of paperwork to catch up on. He was just entering town limits when his phone rang.
Unknown caller.
“Maggie,” he said smugly.
“Make my dreams come true, Sy. And don’t make me regret it.”
SideHustler: That oceanfront bedroom is my dream! Maggie you’re a genius with the soft green on the walls. Totally feels like a spa!
Windows95Luvr: Maggie needs a man. I nominate Idris Elba!
GamGamof7: Maggie, dear, you have such a lovely face. Why must you spend so much of your time wearing ball caps?
7
Maggie woke in the dark. Disoriented, thirsty, and already revving to get up.
Idaho. Kinship. The Old Campbell Place.
Current location set, she reached blindly for her phone and found it on the floor next to the cot. Monday, 6:05 a.m. Half an hour before sunrise. She’d moved out of the luxurious digs the inn offered the night before. It was the best way to get a feel for a place. Living, sleeping, and working under the roof until she knew a house down to its bones.
She indulged in a full-body stretch and bounded out of bed. “Lots to do,” she told Mr. and Mrs. Campbell’s portrait, which she’d rescued from the first floor. Using a toe to flip the switch on the coffeemaker on the floor, she padded into the connected bathroom.
She grimaced as the hideousness of the bathroom fixtures startled her once again.
It would be a gut job in here. The volcanic-orange toilet and tub with its brass swan faucet and sticky seashell clings were most definitely not long for this world. She’d spent the previous morning ripping out the god-awful blue-gray carpet on the floor. Because while she could live with eye-searing fixtures, she could not in good conscience get out of the shower onto moldy carpet.
She dressed and pulled her hair back from her face with a clip and returned to pour her first cup of coffee of the day. Snagging a sweatshirt from a wire hanger in the closet, she took her mug over to the tall, skinny glass doors. It took some muscle and a few drops of spilled coffee, but she got them open and stepped out onto the covered balcony.
Cool spring air and the stirring of birds and squirrels met her as the night began its slow fade from the sky. The porch faced south and east, and she caught a glimpse of the sunrise through the trees.
She balanced on the half wall, back to a support column, and enjoyed the peace.
The crews would be here soon, eager to get started. Once they were done for the day, she’d shift gears and dive into the second part of her business. She had a new episode dropping today. The kitchen reveal of the beach house. Corresponding social media posts were scheduled with all the appropriate advertisers and vendors tagged.
She’d need to be available to like and comment. Plus, there was the Day One filming. Which was mostly Dean’s responsibility. But there were the one-on-ones she’d do. And the introductions of the local trades that would be on-site.