Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Not like I was in the market for a relationship, anyway. It was impossible to offer someone a heart I didn’t have. Mine was buried over five hundred miles away at West Point.
Mia and Sam chatted while we climbed back to the house and then took the grand tour of what my heartache had bought me. Bedrooms, bathrooms—it all needed to be overhauled.
“Well?” I asked as the girls took stock of the kitchen.
“Honest opinion?” Mia leaned against one of the Formica counters.
“Of course.”
She and Sam shared a glance.
“What?”
“We need to call Joey,” Mia said.
“Joey, as in your sister?” I asked.
She nodded. “She manages Masters & Co.”
“The family boat-building business,” Sam clarified.
“That’s right. You guys build racing boats or something, right?” I hated that I wasn’t as familiar with Grayson’s family as I should have been, seeing as I’d met them a couple years ago.
“Or something,” Mia said with a smirk. “But Joey knows all the reputable contractors in the OBX. She’ll be able to give you a good list to start with…unless you were thinking you’d head to the hardware store and start ripping stuff out yourself?” Her eyes widened. “Please say that’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Kind of.” I shrugged at the horrified looks on both their faces.
“Oh, Morgan. Not only no, but hell no. You’re not…” Sam motioned to the house. “I know you’re a huge HGTV fan, but this is not in your wheelhouse, and I say that with all the love in my heart.”
“At least the structural stuff needs to be handled by professionals,” Mia urged. “Remodeling on the beach is tricky.”
My stubbornness softened at the plea in their eyes. What harm could getting a few bids on the bigger projects be?
“Fine. Call Joey. Whatever I can’t do myself, I’ll hire contractors for. Sound good?”
“Yep.”
“Absolutely.”
…
A couple hours later, Mia had gone in search of pizza, and Sam, tequila.
I, on the other hand, was on a quest for the lights. The sun would set in a couple of hours, and I wasn’t going to unload what little I had brought with me with only half the lights on.
I flipped through the file the real estate agent had left for me in the kitchen. “Secondary breaker in the garage,” I read aloud. Why in the hell would someone put another breaker box there? Maybe Sam and Mia were right; I’d at least need a contractor for the electrical work.
There was probably another half hour before the girls got back, which meant if I found that box quickly, we could have the whole house lit.
I rushed out my front door, not bothering to close it, and raced down the steps, jumping to the landing—
SNAP.
The sound registered in my brain about a millisecond before I plummeted through the landing. I shrieked, throwing out my arms to catch my weight on the remaining platform. My boobs took the rest of the impact as they slammed against the edge of the hole I’d made with my lower half.
Blinding pain ripped through me as my body scraped to a halt, but I didn’t fall through.
The sound that left my mouth was anything but ladylike. Holy shit, it hurt. Fire raced up my sides from thighs to ribs, and I was pretty sure my full Ds were going to mutiny back to an A-cup, or just fall right off.
I took a few breaths to steady my heart, praying the pain would subside, and then struggled to get my elbows under me. Maybe I could lift just a little…nope.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
There was no moving. None. Nada. Zip. I was firmly wedged in a hole of my own making without enough leverage to hoist myself out.
A huff of self-deprecating laughter slipped free. Talk about a metaphor for my life. Will would have laughed his smug little ass off.
“Yeah, I bet you think this is hilarious and symbolic or some nonsense,” I muttered, slipping into the familiar pattern of talking to him when I was alone.
I swiveled my legs as far as I dared, hoping to find some purchase, but came into contact with nothing. Of course not. I was easily seven or eight feet off the ground here.
Not deadly. Just annoying. Humiliating, if I was still here by the time Sam and Mia got back. Way to prove that I’d be totally fine out here on my own. I hadn’t even made it through one day.
I jiggled a bit and tried to squeeze my girls down through the opening.
Ouch. That wasn’t happening. What skin wasn’t already raw from the scrape was protesting the pressure from the remaining boards.
The sound of footsteps caught my attention, and I looked over to my neighbor’s deck to see a little red-haired girl skipping down her stairs toward me.
She had that kindergarten look about her—all round cheeks and wide eyes. Around five years old was my best guess, which meant there had to be an adult home, too.