A Love To Build On

After he crashes his sports car into a gazebo, Adam Holbrook is sentenced to spend thirty days rebuilding it—definitely not Adam’s usual glamorous lifestyle. But when Laura Durrant, the contractor scheduled to help him, shows up, everything changes. Suddenly Adam wouldn’t mind an extended sentence. And no one’s more surprised by this change in attitude than Adam. As they work amid the sawdust and sweat, Laura teaches him about more than carpentry. She teaches him everything he’s missed out on—a family, a relationship with God…and maybe even love.

Laura turned and glared, the loveliness on her face gone.

“I assume you have something else to wear other than a tuxedo? We’ll be doing real work today, Mr. Holbrook. This won’t be a party.”

Her attitude irked Adam. He started to say something smart, but remembered Mr. Durrant’s request for respect. Something she’d said suddenly clicked into place. “We?”

Laura Durrant placed her hands on her hips and took a step toward him. “We. You’ll be under my supervision for the duration of your sentence. I’ll be showing you how to rebuild what you destroyed, and I want to get started today if that’s all right with you.”

Adam looked over her head to her father. There was a knowing and sympathetic smile on his face. He shrugged.

“My daughter is a skilled carpenter and contractor. Trust me, she knows her stuff.” He took his daughter’s arm and tugged her along with him out of the room. “We’ll leave you alone to get ready. Don’t take too long.”

LORRAINE BEATTY

was born and raised in Columbus, Ohio, but has been blessed to live in Germany, Connecticut and Baton Rouge. She now calls Mississippi home. She and her husband, Joe, have two sons and six grandchildren. Lorraine started writing in junior high and has written for trade books, newspapers and company newsletters. She is a member of RWA and ACFW and is a charter member and past president of Magnolia State Romance Writers. In her spare time she likes to work in her garden, travel and spend time with her family.

Restoring His Heart

Lorraine Beatty

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the same measure you use, it will be measured to you.

—Luke 6:38

To my sweet hubby, Joe, who is always there cheering me on and offering hugs. I love you. And to Melissa for her help, her guidance and mostly her patience. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Adam Holbrook stood and faced the bench of the Honorable Judge Hankins A. Wallace. The man seated there didn’t look anything like what he’d expected. He’d envisioned the judge in a small rural town like Dover, Mississippi, to be a balding, overweight, quirky character with horn-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose. One look at this magistrate had given Adam his first moment of concern.

Judge Wallace was stern-faced and imposing, and it had nothing to do with his being elevated behind the bench. Broad shoulders, steely brown eyes and a set to his jaw that made it clear he was in charge. Adam’s throat went dry. He glanced over at his court-appointed attorney. He’d considered calling his own attorney yesterday after he’d been arrested for reckless endangerment and destroying public property, a result of his accidently running his car into the town’s park and damaging a small building. But his attorney was also his most recent girlfriend and the relationship had ended badly, so he’d chosen to go with a court-appointed lawyer. Now he questioned that decision.

“Adam Holbrook?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” He put as much respect and sincerity into his tone as possible.

“Were you driving drunk in my town, Mr. Holbrook?”

“No, sir.”

The judge’s dark gaze pierced him from across the room. “So, then what were you doing when you decided to destroy our beloved landmark?”

He opened his mouth to protest, then changed his mind. Better to eat crow and be on his way. In twenty-eight days he had to be seated at the board of directors meeting of his father’s company, Holbrook Electronics, or lose the yearly allowance from his trust fund forever. There were no excuses acceptable. Either be in Atlanta on time or face financial ruin. “I was trying to use the GPS on my phone.”

The judge nodded knowingly and glanced at the papers on his desk. “Uh-huh. Well then, let’s get straight to it. I’m sure you’re anxious to get this over with.”

Adam allowed a small grin. “As a matter of fact I am. I have interests in Atlanta that require my immediate attention.” He was pleased with his calm, respectful tone. Hope rose. All he had to do now was meet the bail, pay any fines and he could be on his way.

“Do you now?” Judge Wallace took the folder in front of him in his hands and scanned the contents. “It says here you’re some kind of minor celebrity. That you like to indulge in all manner of extreme sporting adventures.” His tone was thick with disapproval.

Hope took a nosedive. He might have grossly underestimated this small town’s justice system. He waited, a heightened sense of anticipation sparking his nerves, similar to the sensation he experienced right before he jumped out of a plane or dived off a cliff.

The judge leaned back in his chair, frowning. “We do things a bit differently here in Dover, Mr. Holbrook. We believe in the punishment fitting the crime.”

“I’ll be more than happy to have the structure repaired, Your Honor.” That should score a few points.

“That’s good to hear. That’s what I had in mind, as well. You see, that wasn’t any old structure you crashed your flashy silver car into. That was an historic landmark. It’s the symbol of this town. It’s one hundred and thirty years old and we’re rather fond of that gazebo.”

A small bead of sweat trickled down his back. “Yes, sir.”

“So, here’s what you’re going to do.” The judge straightened in his chair and banged his gavel on the bench. “You’re hereby sentenced to thirty days under house arrest. And you will spend those days rebuilding the gazebo you damaged. Any spare hours will be spent doing community service.”

Adam struggled to grasp what the judge had just said. He couldn’t be serious. “Your Honor, I have urgent personal matters in Atlanta that require my presence.”

The judge shook his head. “That’s unfortunate. Thirty days.”

No. Thirty days would mean he’d miss the deadline. There were no contingencies with the rules of his trust fund. No leeway. He either showed up for the meeting or he was cut off. Permanently. Once Arthur Holbrook made a decree it was carved in stone. Especially something like this. “Your Honor, what about bail? I’m able to meet any amount you deem equitable.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re more than able. That’s the point, Mr. Holbrook. I suspect buying your way out of things is a bad habit with you. No bail.”

“Your Honor...”

The judge held up his hand. “I figure that gazebo damage is well within the felony limits. You’re fortunate that no one was injured in your little stunt or you could be facing manslaughter charges.”

Dryness in his throat made it hard to swallow. He had been greatly relieved that no one had been injured, but he couldn’t afford to be stuck in rural Mississippi for a month. He searched frantically for a way out of this mess. He looked to his attorney, who shrugged and shook his head. He was on his own. A surge of anger rushed through his veins. What else was new? Adam faced the bench again. He flashed his most engaging smile. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t know how to repair that building.”

“I suspect not. That’s why I’m assigning an expert to help you out. And because you’re such an unusual case, you’ll be housed with a local family instead of the jail, and you’ll be wearing an ankle monitor at all times until you’ve completed your sentence.”

The tone of the judge’s voice and the look in his eyes told Adam there was no point in trying to press his case. He’d have to find some other way to get home in time. Missing the yearly meeting with his father was out of the question. He had to be in Atlanta on time or lose everything.

* * *

Laura Durrant shut the tailgate on her truck and walked to the cab, pulling herself up into the driver’s seat. She’d stopped by her workshop to pick up the tools she would need to get everything secured at the gazebo. Her heart ached when she thought about the damage the accident had caused. Some daredevil rich guy had lost control of his sports car and driven through the fence surrounding the courthouse square and rammed into their historic gazebo. Now it was up to her to fix it.

As a licensed contractor and builder, her company, LC Construction, specialized in restoring old homes and buildings. Her job was physically and mentally stressful, but she loved every second of it. At least she usually did. At the moment she had more work than she could handle and more problems, too.

She was still kicking herself for agreeing to this project. Her uncle, Judge Wallace, was fond of sentencing those who passed through his court to unusual punishments. Normally she applauded the idea, but this was the first time the punishment had included her. When her uncle had requested her help, she’d been eager to repair the gazebo. No one would do it more lovingly or more accurately than she would.

What she disliked was having to work with Adam Holbrook for the next thirty days. She didn’t have time to rehabilitate some spoiled rich guy who had nothing better to do than tool around the country in his vintage sports car. He would only get in the way and slow things down. Unfortunately, she had no choice. But she would make sure he pulled his weight.

One thing she knew for certain. The gazebo would be restored in time for the Founder’s Day Festival, Dover’s most important event of the year. She’d do whatever it took to make sure that happened.

* * *

Adam followed Officer Don Barnes down the hallway, the weight of his newly attached ankle tracking device a grim reminder of his fate. He’d been processed for his house arrest. Now he was being taken to meet his jailers.

Once seated in the back of the patrol car, Adam tried to think of some way out of his predicament. He touched the bandage on his jaw where it had hit the steering wheel when he crashed. He’d been lucky. No major injuries. A scraped jaw, a bruised shoulder and a seriously wounded ego were all he’d suffered. He’d gotten off better than the little gazebo had. He glanced down at his once-elegant silk shirt and the dirt marring his tuxedo pants. He probably should have changed when he left the party in Dallas yesterday morning, but he’d been anxious to get his newly purchased ’63 Porsche 356 out on the open highway. He sighed, letting his gaze drift to his feet. He tugged up his pant leg and looked at the ugly black monitor. He was trapped. In a prison without bars.

Turning his attention to the scenery outside the vehicle, he shook his head with bewilderment. The streets along the town square were lined with what most people would see as charming old buildings and an even more charming old courthouse. To him they were just old, out-of-date and dull.

He liked things big and wide open. Dangerous. Risky. For fifty-one weeks a year he was his own man. He went where he wanted and did what he wanted. He’d surfed the big waves in Waimea, heli-skiied in British Columbia and raced a car at Daytona. He lived a life of danger and excitement other men only dreamed of.

At least he used to. Lately, he’d been finding it harder and harder to catch that high. The adrenaline rush wasn’t coming as quickly, and the satisfaction from each thrill was missing. He’d been restless and irritable for over a year now and he could find no explanation for the sudden change.

The cruiser pulled to a stop in front of a large two-story white house on the corner that resembled something from a Norman Rockwell painting. Tall columns braced the wide porch. Broad front steps were decorated with pumpkins and fall flowers. Maybe this was a bed and breakfast. He could handle that.

The officer got out of the car at the same moment a man emerged from the house. He stopped at the edge of the porch steps and waited. When the officer opened the rear door, Adam got out, making a quick scan of the neighborhood. The street was lined with giant trees, the stately homes positioned in manicured lawns. Maybe staying with this family wouldn’t be so bad after all. Still, he didn’t like the idea of being watched over by strangers like some errant teenager.

He glanced up at the man on the porch. His stern expression said it all. He’d tolerate no nonsense in his home. Adam hid the smirk that fought to emerge. Just like his dad. My way or the highway. It was beginning to look like a very long thirty days ahead.

“Don, how’s it going today?”

The officer kept a firm hold on Adam’s upper arm as he led him to the foot of the steps. At least he’d been spared the handcuffs. “Doing good. I brought your houseguest.” He turned to Adam, a disapproving scowl on his narrow face. “Mr. Holbrook, meet your jailer, Mr. Durrant. This here is Adam Holbrook.” Without waiting for either man to speak, the officer released Adam and placed his hands on his hips. “His ankle monitor is set for one mile. If LC needs more range, just have her call and we’ll adjust it. You need me to go over anything before I go?”

“No, Don. Hank and I worked it all out. Thanks. I have it from here.”

The officer offered a small salute and walked off. Adam squared his shoulders and faced the man. Whatever it was, he would endure. He’d jumped out of helicopters. Surviving a month in a small town should be a piece of cake.

The man came closer toward him, a warm smile on his face. Adam’s guard went up. What kind of people would welcome a prisoner into their home?

“I guess Don was in a hurry to get back to work. I’m Tom Durrant. Welcome to our home, Mr. Holbrook.” He held out his hand.

Adam grasped it, surprised to find the hand strong and calloused. It didn’t fit with the stately old home. Adam had always been good at knowing when someone was conning him. Something was going on here.

Durrant turned and went back up the steps, motioning for Adam to follow. Mr. Durrant looked to be late fifties, early sixties. Tall, broad-shouldered, with silver-gray hair, his quick movements spoke of a man in good shape physically. So what was the catch?

Inside the house, Mr. Durrant stopped in the foyer and waited for him to enter, that same pleasant smile on his face. “I know you’re anxious to get settled, but I think we need to have a little talk first. Are you hungry? Did you get breakfast this morning?”

“No, sir.” Adam followed him into a bright sunny kitchen at the back of the house. The room was large with a round table positioned in a cozy corner filled with windows.

“I thought not. Have a seat and I’ll get you fixed up. Coffee?”

He nodded, growing more confused by the moment. Was this where he’d stay? What was going on? Were they trying to kill him with kindness for damaging the little gazebo in the square? Cruel and unusual punishment for sure.

Adam sat down, realizing how out of place he looked in his bedraggled tuxedo. This kitchen was more suited to the jeans and polo shirt his jailer was wearing. Mr. Durrant returned to the table with a plate of cinnamon rolls and a steaming cup of coffee, which made Adam’s stomach growl. He’d barely touched his food since being arrested yesterday.

“Here ya go. Eat up. Those rolls were homemade this morning by my wife. She’s a great cook.”

Adam eyed the man suspiciously. “Thanks.” Mr. Durrant waited while Adam doctored his coffee with a little cream and sugar and took a roll from the plate.

“I imagine you have some questions. Let me go over the high points and then I’ll show you to your room. Number one, this will be your home for the duration of your sentence. You will be allowed to wander anywhere on our property, but nowhere else. Check-in is whenever you stop work for the day, and you’re required to call the police station within five minutes of your arrival here. You’ll be picked up for work each day and brought home each night. Oh, and only one phone call per day.”

He pulled a cell from his shirt pocket that Adam instantly recognized as his own. He started to reach for it. Mr. Durrant shook his head.

“Sorry. I know how you young people live and die by these things, but we’ll keep it down here on that table over there. You can make your calls in here.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll give you all the privacy you need.”

Adam swallowed a bite of cinnamon roll. It was the best he’d ever tasted, but he wasn’t in the mood to truly enjoy it. “Is that all?”

Clasping his hands on the table, Mr. Durrant leaned toward him. “Treat my wife and me with respect, behave yourself and everything should be fine. Any other questions?”

Adam set his coffee cup down with a firm thud. “Why are you doing this? It doesn’t make sense.”

Tom Durrant smiled again. “You’ll understand soon enough. But I will tell you that the judge is my brother-in-law. Apparently you’re something of a celebrity and he thought you’d be better off here with us than being locked up in the county jail. Because you’ll be working on the gazebo, this was a logical place to put you. And—” Mr. Durrant inhaled a deep breath “—I have a personal stake in the matter.”

Adam was beginning to wish they’d locked him up in a nice safe cell with ordinary criminals. He was used to dealing with people who wanted something from him. But this was different. He didn’t like being off balance, and this situation had him teetering like a tightrope walker over a canyon.

“Well, you’ll be going to work soon, so we’d better get you settled in.”

Adam followed Tom Durrant through the large home. And it was a home. A place where people lived. Signs of life were on display everywhere. Magnets held scribbled drawings on the refrigerator door. An open book lay upside down on an end table. A sweater draped over a chair. The furniture was traditional and tasteful, but comfortably used. A pile of magazines lay on the stairs as if waiting to be taken up. Family photos covered the wall along the stairway. Too many for him to process as they passed by. He’d never seen pictures displayed like this. The only picture in his home growing up was the portrait of his mother in her favorite ball gown which hung over the fireplace in the main salon.

Upstairs, Tom Durrant led him to a room at the far end of the hall. Adam stepped inside, his attention falling on the items on the bed. “My bags.” He walked to the bed, quickly sliding open the zipper on the small case. The sight of his personal items filled him with a rush of comfort.

“They sent your things over this morning. I knew you’d need some different clothes to work in. Carpentry is dirty work.” He walked across the room and opened another door, flipping on the switch to reveal a private bathroom. “I think you’ll find everything you need. If not, just ask and we’ll see what we can do.” He smiled again. “Within reason of course.”

A sudden lump of gratitude rose in Adam’s chest. While he still harbored serious doubts about this arrangement, at least he’d have a place to retreat to each night, a place to be alone. And alone was where he was most comfortable. “Thanks. This will be fine.”

“Daddy!”

Adam turned at the sound of the female voice.

“Up here, Boo.”

Adam waited as the sound of pounding footsteps rumbled on the steps and along the hall. From the noise being made, he expected someone large and sturdy to appear in the doorway. He wasn’t prepared for the woman who stepped into the room.

“Hey, Daddy.”

She was short, five foot four tops. At first glance he thought she was a teenager, but on closer inspection he realized she was probably not much younger than himself. Perhaps thirty-one or thirty-two.

“You’re putting him in Matt’s room? I thought you’d put him in the spare room over the garage.”

Tom Durrant shook his head. “Too isolated up there. I thought it would be better if he was close by.”

Adam didn’t like the sound of that. Was Mr. Durrant going to monitor him every moment?

“Mr. Holbrook, this is my daughter, Laura Durrant.”

She made no move to shake his hand, so he merely nodded. From the scowl on her face, he had a feeling she was not going to be one of his fans. She turned to look at her father and Adam felt a small skip in his heartbeat when her features suddenly changed from disapproving to near worshipful. The love in her eyes for her father gave her a glow.

“We need to get going. How soon will he be ready?”

“Ask him.”

She turned and glared, the loveliness on her face gone. “I assume you have something else to wear other than a tuxedo? We’ll be doing real work today, Mr. Holbrook. This won’t be a party.”

Her attitude irked him. He started to say something smart, but remembered Mr. Durrant’s request for respect. Something she’d said suddenly clicked into place. “We?”

Laura Durrant placed her hands on her hips and took a step toward him. “We. You’ll be under my supervision for the duration of your sentence. I’ll be showing you how to rebuild what you destroyed, and I want to get started today if that’s all right with you.”

Adam looked over her head to her father. There was a knowing and sympathetic smile on his face. He shrugged.

“My daughter is a skilled carpenter and contractor. Trust me, she knows her stuff.” He took his daughter’s arm and tugged her along with him out of the room. “We’ll leave you alone to get ready. Don’t take too long. She gets cranky when she has to wait.”

“Dad.”

The door shut behind them, but not before Adam heard Tom Durrant gently scold “Boo” for her attitude.

Adam dragged a hand across his face. Surely this had to be some kind of bizarre parallel universe. No way could he take orders from that little slip of a thing. He had to find a way out of this mess. And fast.

* * *

Laura followed her father downstairs to the kitchen. “He’d better not take all day primping. I want to get started on that gazebo today. I’ve got too many other things I need to take care of.” Her dad pointed to a kitchen chair.

“Sit. I’m sure he’ll be down directly. How’s the Mobile situation?”

Laura sat down, resting her head dejectedly on one palm. Her last restoration project had been in Mobile, Alabama, on a historic downtown building. Unfortunately, the owner had suddenly declared bankruptcy and everything was on hold. Including her pay. “Awful. The lawyers are going to draw this thing out as long as possible so they don’t have to pay up.”

“What does your attorney say?”

“He’s doing all he can, but you know the court system works like molasses.” She exhaled and leaned back in her chair. “I never would have taken that job if I’d known the company would go belly-up a week after I completed the work.”

Her dad chuckled. “We all wish we had a crystal ball to see into the future, but that’s not how the good Lord set things up. We’re supposed to rely on Him, not ourselves. You upheld your part of the deal. That’s all you can do.”

“I know, but in the meantime, I have payroll to meet. That job was going to give me enough financial security to breathe easy for the next year. And then there’s the Keller building.” She looked over at her father, wishing he could make it all better the way he had when she was small. But at thirty-two, her troubles were her own to battle.

Her dad laid his hand on top of hers. “I wish I could help you somehow. Your mom and I have been talking to everyone we know looking for people who would be interested in stepping up to save the old place, but no luck.”

“I know. Money is tight everywhere. I don’t blame anyone, but it’s so frustrating. If I could only have convinced Mr. Keller to sell me the building or get it listed on the Historic Registry before he died. Now it’s going up for auction in a few weeks and I’ve run out of options. Buying it myself was the only one left and now that’s off the table, too. Without the profits from the Mobile job I can’t afford to even bid on it.”

The old three-story building at the corner of Main and Peace streets downtown would make a perfect senior center once it was restored. Something she’d wanted to do for a long time. The center would provide a safe place for seniors to meet and do their crafts. It would also be a place where they could teach others the numerous skills they possessed. Crocheting. Knitting. Tole painting. Sewing. Quilting. She hated seeing the old building falling apart when it could be brought to life again and made useful. It was structurally sound and perfectly located. All it needed was some work. Okay, a lot of work, but work she was more than willing to do.

Laura stood and walked to the door leading to the hallway. “What’s taking him so long?”

“Give him time, Boo. He’ll be down soon enough.”

“And that’s another thing. I’ve got the Conrad job going on. My foreman keeps running into problems every time we open a wall or rip up a floorboard. I don’t have time to spend repairing what this poor little rich boy did. And there’s only a few weeks to restore the gazebo in time for the Founder’s Day Festival. That doesn’t give me much leeway for finding materials. Dealing with him will double the time needed to make repairs. Not to mention the mistakes that will have to be undone and the wasted lumber from incorrect measurements.”

“I can speak to your uncle Hank. He could find someone else to restore the gazebo,” her father said.

Laura whirled around. “No, I want to do it. I just wish I had someone competent to help me. Not an amateur.” She puffed out her irritation and paced the room.

“Maybe he’ll surprise you and be a quick study, or maybe he already has a few skills that will be helpful.” Her dad came and gave her a hug. “It’ll all work out, Boo. Have a little faith.”

Laura smiled at her dad. She hoped he was right this time. “So, what do you think of him?”

“Hard to say. I’ve only spoken to him briefly. I think he’s unhappy with his situation, but that’s understandable. He reminds me of your brother Ty. As I recall, you had no trouble keeping him in line.”

She smiled. “So you’re saying I can take him?”

“No doubt, but don’t get carried away. Something tells me this man has a thick wall of protection around him. With Ty you always knew where he stood. He didn’t keep his feelings hidden. I suspect Adam has kept his feelings buried most of his life. Don’t be too hard on him.” He turned and picked up his cell phone and slipped it in his pocket. “Time to get to the store. Your mother will be wondering where I am.”

“You’re leaving me here alone with this stranger?”

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. That’s one of the reasons your mom and I agreed to let him stay here. I wanted to make sure he understood that you’re my baby girl and he’d better watch his p’s and q’s.” He chuckled and started for the door. “Maybe I should have warned him about you. You’re tougher than both your brothers put together.”

Laura waved goodbye to her dad, then checked her watch again. She’d lost nearly half an hour waiting for Mr. Rich Adventurer. If he wasn’t down in ten minutes, she’d go in and drag his spoiled self out by the scruff of his neck.

She had to admit, she’d been surprised at her first glimpse of him. She tried to ignore the way his startling green eyes had made a swift but thorough assessment of her. Doubtful she could compare with the kind of women he was used to. And she felt sure he was used to taking his pick of leggy beauties.

She couldn’t blame her fellow females for falling for this guy. He had all the right stuff on the outside. His six-foot frame and thick light brown hair made him boyishly handsome.

But she preferred a man of faith. A man with character in his face and compassion in his heart.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs let her know Holbrook was finally ready. He stepped through the kitchen door and stopped, his green gaze slamming into hers. Her throat closed up and her heart skipped a couple beats. A short while ago he’d resembled James Bond fresh from saving the world. Now, he stood in the kitchen looking ready for a photo shoot for a Rugged Men of the South calendar. The gray knit Henley shirt hugged his chest and broad shoulders like an old friend and brought out the vibrant green of his eyes. The jeans called attention to his narrow waist and long powerful legs. A pair of well-worn dark boots anchored him to the floor. Apparently, adventurers needed sturdy footwear in their wardrobes.

She shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “If you’re ready, we need to get going.”

There was a half smile on his face. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Laura pushed through the back door and headed for her red truck. “I hope you’re ready to work because we have a lot to do and very little time to get it done.”

Chapter Two

Adam followed Laura Durrant to her truck and climbed in, wondering how so small a woman could command such authority. Her no-nonsense attitude was intriguing and a bit intimidating. He’d decided to be a good scout, do what he was told and get the lay of the land. Eventually he’d find a loophole, some way to get out of Dover and back to Atlanta on time. Of course there was always his last resort—calling one of his dad’s lawyers. He didn’t want to think about the repercussions of that.

He glanced over at Laura Durrant. Her slender figure was obscured by stained and faded jeans, ending in heavy brown work boots. That explained the loud thumping on the stairs. Her purple T-shirt was worn and faded, with a quarter-sized hole in one sleeve. Her head was covered with a ball cap and spikes of hair stuck out from the adjustment opening in the back and the edges over her ears. He guessed at its color. Dishwater blond? What stood out the most were her violet blue eyes. Eyes that were staring at him with disdain. She looked small behind the wheel of the big truck but absolutely in control. Which raised a lot of questions. “So, you’re in charge of the work detail, huh?”

“That’s right. You answer to me.”

“What do I call you?”

“You can call me Boss or LC.”

“I thought your name was Boo.” He saw her scowl at the name.

“My dad is the only one who calls me that. And my brother Ty sometimes. LC is the name of the company. LC Construction and Restoration.”

Adam wanted to ask what the initials stood for, but decided it might be safer to wait on that. “So how long do you think this repair job will take? How much damage did I do?”

She glanced at him briefly, eyes narrowed. “It’s not a repair job, Mr. Holbrook. It’s a restoration and that takes a lot more time.”

“Restoration. Repair. Same difference, isn’t it?”

“Not even close. The building you drove your little car into is a National Historic Landmark. Which is why I’m doing the job. If all it needed was repairing, any competent carpenter could do the work in a few days.”

“And what makes you different?”

“I’m a certified restorationist.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m qualified to restore old homes and buildings to their original state when possible. That’s what I do.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing. How did you get to be one?” She exhaled an exasperated sigh as if reluctant to explain.

“I studied architecture in college, but I found I didn’t like the designing as much as I liked the hands-on ground-level work. When I moved home, I bought this construction company from a local man who was retiring. He did a lot of restoration work, so all I had to do was expand on that customer base.”

“Still, a girl in construction. Where did that come from?”

Laura turned and smiled, her expression softening the way it had when she’d looked at her father earlier. Something inside Adam shifted.

“Oh. My dad owns the hardware store in town. I grew up around nuts and bolts.”

She turned back to the road ahead. “So how did you come to lose control of your car and ram it into our historic gazebo?”

For a moment Adam considered avoiding the question, but then he remembered her uncle was the judge and her father his jailer. No point in trying to hide the truth. “I left a friend’s house in Dallas early yesterday morning and planned on spending a few days in New Orleans. You know, eating fine food, listening to good music, maybe do a little deep-sea fishing. I got hungry, saw a billboard for some mom-and-pop diner in Sawyers Bend—”

“Jingles.”

“What?”

“The name of the diner is Jingles.”

“Right. Well, somehow I missed the turnoff and ended up in your fair community. I was trying to find a way back to the interstate on my smartphone and the rest you know.”

“You didn’t have GPS in that fancy car of yours?”

“No, it’s a vintage machine. I was going to have it installed after my meeting in Atlanta.”

Laura Durrant pulled the truck to a stop along the fence line near the gazebo. “Too bad you didn’t have that done before you left Dallas. Might have saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

Adam scanned the area. Yellow police tape marked the site. His car had been removed and he could clearly see the gaping hole in the side of the little building. He climbed out of the cab and joined the boss lady at the back of her truck. “Where do you suppose my car is?”

“I have no idea. Impound probably. You won’t be needing it for a while.”

“No, but I’d like to see about having it repaired. I’ll have to leave here eventually.” He took the hard hat and work gloves she handed him. He tucked the gloves in the back pocket of his jeans and tried the hat on for size, pulling it off again and adjusting the band inside.

LC broke the caution tape and walked toward the damaged section of the gazebo.

“Should you be crossing that police line?”

“We’ll put up our own safety fencing.”

Up close, Adam was surprised to find the gazebo larger than he’d expected. He figured it was about twenty-four feet across. He also had a clearer picture of the damage he’d caused and he wondered if anything could be salvaged. He saw tire tracks in the dirt where he’d tried to stop, and pieces of glass were scattered around the ground from his broken windshield. A gaping hole in the brick foundation of the gazebo marked the spot where his car had come to rest. He looked upward at the roof which sagged from the loss of several broken support beams. The cupola on top tilted at a precarious angle and the decorative spindles were little more than kindling.

He glanced over at Laura, stunned to see a deep sadness in her eyes. For a moment he thought she might burst into tears. Did the old gazebo mean that much to her? He didn’t understand. It was just a small building in the center of the town.

But the sadness in her eyes made him so uncomfortable that he looked away, scanning the area. Surely the workers would show up anytime now. He was anxious to meet the real carpenters. She may own the construction company, but a woman her size couldn’t lift a can of paint by herself, let alone a two-by-four. He could, however, see her as the boss. With her hardline attitude and biting comments, he doubted any man would dare to cross her. “So when do the others arrive?”

“What others?”

“The carpenters and guys with the muscle.”

“Sorry, Holbrook, no others. Just you and me. My guys are all busy on other jobs. I can’t afford to pull them off to do this restoration.”

Adam frowned. “I wasn’t expecting it would be just the two of us.”

“I’m sure there’s going to be a lot of things you aren’t expecting.”

He stared at the small structure, rubbing his jaw. “You sure we can’t use more help?”

“It’s not that big a deal. We’ll do the woodworking and I’ll sub out the other trades.” He drew his eyebrows together. “I employ four full-time carpenters, one fabricator and a cabinet maker. The rest of the work is hired out to subcontractors. Like the brick work, electrical and drywall and tile. The mill will build the post and spindles. Any other craftsmen I need I’ll hire to do the work.”

Adam nodded in understanding and followed her to the damaged corner, watching as she stooped down and inspected the gaping hole in the brick foundation. She pulled out one crumbling brick and examined it, a look of disgust on her face. She stood and held up the partially destroyed pale red brick.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to find more of these?”

He grinned. “Can’t we run over to the local brickyard?”

She tossed the brick on the ground and glared. “That gazebo is over one hundred and thirty years old. Those bricks are handmade. I can’t walk into a store and buy more like you can replace that little car of yours.”

“That car was built in the 1960s. It’s worth ten times your little house.”

“House?” Laura set her jaw, eyes blazing.

“It’s a gazebo. It’s old. I’ll give you the money to build one twice that size with all the bells and whistles.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “First, we don’t want a bigger, better gazebo, we want this one. It’s a historic landmark. Second, I know you have no idea what you’ve done to this town or the history that you’ve destroyed, but believe me, it’s significant. Third, I’m sure paying for everything is your usual method of getting out of trouble. Well, not this time. You’re going to help me rebuild this and I can’t wait to see you sweat and break your back doing it.” She stomped off. Adam watched her go, tempted to walk out of this small insignificant town. Then he remembered the ankle bracelet.

He wouldn’t get far.

* * *

Laura worked off her irritation by pulling out the orange plastic safety fencing and the stakes to anchor it from the truck bed. She had to regain her sense of control or she’d end up with a helper who might go AWOL on her. As much as she hated to face it, she would need his upper-body strength to wield some of the beams and timbers she’d need to rebuild things. She started back toward the gazebo, her heart tightening at the sight of the wounded structure. Adam came toward her, arms extended.

“I’ll get those.” He took the cumbersome material from her grasp. “Where do you want them?”

“I want you to set up a perimeter about twelve to sixteen feet from the gazebo to give us room to work and set up the equipment we’ll need. Be sure to leave an opening so we can come and go. You’ll find a special fencepost driver tool in the back of the truck. It’s red and looks like a pipe with handles. Use that to set the posts about eight feet apart.” Adam started to move off, then turned back.

“You want exact spacing or approximate?”

“Approximate will do. I just don’t want people getting too close while we work.” Laura stapled the building permit encased in protective plastic to one post, leaving Adam to figure the mechanics of the fencing. Retrieving her electronic tablet from the truck, she started her detailed list of the materials she’d need and the specifications for the gazebo to start tracking down the lumber from the correct era.

She glanced at Adam smiling as he tugged the flimsy orange fencing between the posts. She let him struggle for a while, intending to give him some pointers, but the next time she looked, he’d gotten the hang of it. He finished his task at the same time she completed her list.

“How did I do, boss?”

The grin on his face made his eyes sparkle. “Fine. You’ll have to check it each day. It tends to sag over time.”

“What’s next? Power tools?”

“No. We have to stabilize the roof, then take all this damaged section apart.” She picked up a pair of protective goggles. “But first we need to go over a few safety rules. You will wear these when using power tools, and earplugs when running the saw. Use a waist support when we do heavy lifting and never, I repeat, never treat a power tool with anything less than the utmost respect. They aren’t toys.”

Adam nodded. “I might not understand the tools, but I do know a thing or two about safety and being cautious. I make sure my sports equipment is thoroughly checked out before I use it. I don’t take unnecessary risks.”

Laura huffed under her breath. “Yet you still risk your life for nothing more than a temporary thrill.” She turned and motioned for him to follow. “We need to support the roof before we do anything else. I’ll get the jack, you bring that four-by-six post over here.”

Laura positioned the jack in the center of the gazebo and instructed Adam how to position the heavy post to take the weight of the roof. She’d anticipated his resistance today, but so far he’d followed her every command without question. She held the post in place while Adam put his strength behind the jack, pumping the handle. She glanced down at him, surprised to see him watching the upward movement of the beam closely as he worked. She also was suddenly aware of the muscles in his arms and the way the fabric of his shirt strained across his shoulders as he moved.

“Is that enough?”

Laura jerked her attention back to the beam. It was touching under the center of the roof but not firmly enough. “Another inch should do it.” Satisfied, she stepped back, watching as Adam rose to his full height and placed his hand on the beam.

“Will this one piece of wood hold up this whole building?”

She swallowed and took a step back. “It’s only a temporary fix until we can assess the damage to the rafters and make the repairs.”

“Okay.” He smiled. “What’s next?”

Laura searched her mind for the next task she wanted him to do, but her thoughts were muddled with things she rarely thought about. Like how strong Adam was, and how small she felt beside him. He made her aware that she was very female and he was so male. She forced herself to focus on the work. “We need to start stacking the loose bricks over there out of the way. We’ll reuse the ones that aren’t too damaged. Make a pallet out of scrap lumber and stack them on that. It’ll keep them from sinking into the ground. I need to make some phone calls.”

Without waiting for his response, she walked to her truck and climbed inside. She needed time to think and space away from Adam Holbrook. He reminded her a little too much of her ex-husband, Ted—concerned with his own life with never a thought to anyone else and no appreciation for anything of value. She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer for tolerance and forgiveness. It didn’t matter what Holbrook was like. All she needed was for him to help her get the gazebo restored in time for the festival and then he could go on about his merry way.

* * *

Adam pried the last loose brick from the foundation and stacked it with the others. He was hot, sweaty and his back ached. He had no idea dismantling the little building would be such hard work. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of his new boss. It was obvious she loved what she did. To him, the debris looked like so much broken wood. To her, each piece was a special handcrafted treasure.

Adam leaned against the side of the gazebo, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Reaching down, he took a bottle of water from the small cooler she kept nearby. His gaze traveled around the square inventorying the rows of businesses. The usual stuff. Couple of banks. A diner. Pizza place. Antique shop. Drug store. Hardware store. Her daddy’s store? He smiled. Daddy could keep an eye on his little girl all day long from his store. Interesting. The damaged gazebo. A daughter in construction. A father willing to help out to keep her safe. Normally he would scoff at such behavior, but having met her father, and her, he could hardly blame Tom Durrant for wanting to keep watch. He found it a bit old-fashioned but sweet.

Laura had made it clear she thought he was incapable of doing anything without assistance. He was looking forward to proving her wrong. How hard could swinging a hammer be? He finished his water and tossed it into the trash can just outside the orange fence.

Laura came toward him from the truck, slipping her cell phone into the small holster on her hip. “Okay, I found brick down in Long Beach, left over from a Katrina salvage. They’re shipping it up. Should be here by Tuesday.”

She stared at him expectantly, as if he should grasp the significance of her words. The excitement in her expression lit up her violet blue eyes. He’d never seen a color like that before. Nor had he realized how the hard hat made her features appear delicate and fragile. But Adam knew better. There was nothing fragile about this lady. He blinked. She was waiting for some reaction from him. “Is that good?”

“More than good. But replacing that foundation will take time.”

“Is time a big deal?”

“Yes, it is. We’re having our annual Founder’s Day Festival at the end of the month and this ‘little house’ is the centerpiece. If this gazebo is unusable for the festival it’ll be like Christmas without a tree. It’s that important.” She sighed and pulled on her gloves. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, captivated by her passion for the little structure. Her eyes flashed like a summer storm, her cheeks flushed, turning her violet eyes to deep purple. He forced his mind back to the job at hand. “What now, boss?”

She pointed to the broken railing. “Start pulling that apart and stack it over there. Keep all the like pieces together. We’ll have to use them as templates later. Don’t throw anything away unless I okay it.”

“So you’re going to recycle all this? Saving the planet and all that?”

“In a way. All this lumber is original. I want to keep as much of it as possible not only for the historic value, but to keep the historic designation, too. The structure has to be comprised of a certain percentage of original materials to be on the registry.”

Adam worked a spindle loose from the splintered floor board. His gaze drifted toward Laura again. She moved like a little dynamo, never still. Even when she was on the phone, which was frequently, she paced. He’d seen her sitting on the tailgate of the truck once when she was studying her tablet, but she hadn’t sat there long. It was easy to see why her business was a success. She worked hard and with passion.

“Good morning.”

Adam turned and looked over his shoulder. A man a few years older than he was standing near the orange fencing, a warm, friendly smile on his face. He studied the gazebo intently, while slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Adam braced himself for some nasty comments. Several locals had drifted past this morning, but all they’d done was scowl. Sooner or later he’d known the words would start to fly.

The man nodded toward him. “You the man responsible for this damage?”

Adam stood and faced the man. “I am.”

The man’s smile widened. “It’s nice to meet an honest and forthright man.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Jim Barrett. You must be Adam Holbrook.”

The man’s handshake was firm and steady, his smile and friendly tone took any condemnation out of the words. “I seem to have acquired a reputation overnight. Literally.”

“So you have. But because you’re working to make things right, the good folks of Dover will forgive you soon enough. Provided it’s finished in time for the big festival.”

“Jim, what are you up to today?” Laura walked past Adam to the fence, opening her arms to the man for a quick hug. Apparently they were close friends.

“I just got back from rounds at the hospital and thought I’d come by and see how things are going here.” He glanced over at Adam. “Mr. Holbrook looks like he will be a competent assistant for you.”

Laura looked askance at Adam. “He might make a good saw boy eventually. We’ll see.” She turned to Adam. “Jim is the associate pastor at our church.”

Adam took another look at the man. He guessed him to be in his late thirties. He had kind eyes and a gentle manner. He could easily see this man leading a flock of believers, but then, his exposure to men of the cloth was very limited. Barrett noticed his assessment and chuckled softly.

“My church is the big red one just past the corner over there.” He pointed northward. “If you ever need to talk, or if you need a friend, just call.”

“I appreciate the offer.” Adam grinned and glanced down at his ankle. “But I’m limited in my social interaction at the moment.”

“No problem, I’ll come to you.” He handed Adam his business card before turning to Laura. “You’ll let me know if I’m needed, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

He started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, I meant to ask you, how’s it going with the Keller building? Any luck? I understand the auction is coming up soon.”

Laura sighed. “I’m still working on a solution, but at the moment it’s not looking good. I’m praying something will turn up because I’m nearly out of ideas.”

“Don’t give up. I’m sure the Lord is working it out. We just can’t see it yet. Well, I’ll let you get back to work. I don’t want to be the cause of this gazebo not being ready for the festival.”

Adam watched the pastor walk away, then looked at his boss. The expression on her face was one of sadness and disappointment. Apparently the little gazebo wasn’t the only thing she was concerned with. He started to ask, then thought better of it. “Hey, what’s a saw boy?”

She glanced at him and smiled, tugging her hat more firmly onto her head. “You are. You’re going to get to cut all the wood on this project.”

Adam grinned in anticipation. “We’re talking power saws, whirring blades, danger, stuff like that?” Laura grimaced and shook her head, motioning him back to work.

“I was just wondering, how long do you think this job will take?” Adam asked.

“If all goes well and everything arrives on time, two to three weeks. What’s the matter, Holbrook? You bored already?”

“No, but I have someplace I need to be at the end of the month. I don’t suppose you could put in a good word for me with your uncle? Convince him that the quickest way to get this job done on time would be to hire another professional?”

Laura frowned. “I don’t suppose I could. What’s so important that you have to be there? Some sort of big celebrity party?”

He should have expected her to react that way. He doubted she’d be sympathetic to his dilemma anyhow. “Never mind. Forget it.”

Adam watched Laura return to the table saw. She was a hardworking, hands-on kind of woman. People were expecting her to restore what had been damaged. She’d find it hard to identify with a guy who never had to question where his next paycheck was coming from. But then, no one had ever expected anything from him. Until now.

* * *

Adam rubbed his protesting shoulders and stretched his back to ease the kink in his spine. He’d been working nonstop since the pastor’s visit and his body screamed for relief. Almost as much as his stomach craved food. Apparently, Laura stayed small because she never ate. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever taste food again when he heard a familiar voice call out.

“Hey, y’all. I thought I’d treat you to lunch today.” Tom Durrant walked toward them across the courthouse park, a large pizza box in his hand. Laura went to meet him.

“Thanks, Dad. I hadn’t even thought about eating. Too much to do.”

“Hello, Adam. Is she working you too hard?”

“Nothing I can’t handle so far.” Adam brushed off his hands and joined them.

“How’s it going, Boo?”

“Fine. We should have the damaged section cleared away by tomorrow, then we can get a better idea of what we’re looking at.” She handed Adam the hot pizza box and turned to give her dad a warm hug. “Thank you, Daddy. You’re the best.”

Adam watched with interest as the two embraced. A moment ago Laura Durrant had been all business—determined, focused and self-assured. But she’d turned into a happy little girl when her father showed up. He found himself wondering what other sides there were to his boss.

“Well, I won’t keep you. Enjoy your lunch and I’ll see you both later at the house.”

Laura smiled over at Adam, her eyes bright. “Isn’t he just the sweetest? Someday I’m going to find a man just like him to marry.”

Adam saw the love and admiration in her expression, feeling sorry for the man who tried to live up to the image Laura had created. Even in the short time he’d known Tom Durrant, he knew he was a man worthy of admiration. But few men on the planet could measure up. Adam held out the pizza. “Where do you want to eat this?”

“Over here.” She walked to the truck, lowered the tailgate and hopped up on it, feet dangling. She held out her hands for the box.

Adam joined her, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I thought tailgating was for football games.”

“And construction sites. I have some hand sanitizer if you need it.”

There was a teasing glint in her eyes. “I’m good, thanks.” He took a slice and bit into it with gusto. He couldn’t remember when he’d last worked up an appetite like this. He glanced over at Laura. “So, I take it your family is close?”

“We are. My older brother, Matt, lives here in town with his two children. He teaches at the community college. He’s getting married next month to his high school sweetheart. His first wife died of cancer.”

“That’s tough.”

“It was, but then Shelby came back to Dover. She’d had some serious health issues and came here to stay with her grandmother while she recuperated. She had no idea Matt lived next door, but once they saw each other again, all the old feelings came back.”

“Just like that?”

“No, but they worked things out and now they’re getting married. My other brother, Ty, is a cop in Dallas. He’s single. He was shot recently and he’s still recuperating. We’re hoping he’ll be able to come home for Thanksgiving.”

“What about you? No one special? Like the pastor, maybe?”

“What? No!” Her cheeks turned pink. “He’s married. Besides, I don’t have time for a relationship. I’ve got too much work to do. Especially now.”

“So what’s this Keller building the pastor mentioned? Another restoration project?”

“In a way. See that old building on the corner opposite my dad’s store? That’s the Keller building. It used to be a pharmacy way back when. When I was a kid, it was a candy store. I’ve been trying to save it for three years, but nothing has worked out. It’s going up for auction in a few weeks and I’ve run out of options.”

“Is there something special about that building, like this gazebo?”

“If you mean is it part of the history of this town, then yes. Is it a landmark? Officially, no. Mr. Keller would never cooperate with getting it designated. He owned that whole block at one time. I’ve been unable to find funding or grants, anything that will keep it from being sold to some developer who will either tear it down and use it as a parking lot, or put up some kind of modern building that would destroy the charm of Dover.”

Adam tried to imagine the corner with a parking lot or a sleek office building. He might not like small towns, but he could fully understand her concern. And he admired her devotion. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“A senior center. A place for them to gather, share their experiences and their life skills with others.”

“Interesting.”

She shrugged, a small smile on her lips. “I like older people. They are so wise and knowledgeable about life. They have so much to teach us. But most people today are too busy to listen, let alone pay attention.” She took another piece of pizza from the box. “As long as we’re sharing, it’s my turn to ask a question. Why do you do the crazy, risky stunts you do? I don’t understand.”

“For the thrill. You never feel more alive than in that moment when you plunge down a hillside.” He looked into her eyes and the skepticism and disapproval in them pierced his spirit. She’d just told him about wanting to save an old building for senior citizens and he talked about jumping off a cliff. Suddenly his lifestyle felt petty and insignificant.

“Is that the only time you feel alive?”

He didn’t know how to answer that, so he fell silent, and took another bite of his pizza, hoping she would move on to another topic.

“Is that all you do? Drift from one adventure to another? You don’t have a real job of any kind?”

Adam grew uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was going. He didn’t like talking about his personal life and Laura Durrant had a way of making his love of extreme sports seem trivial. “I have a few endorsement deals.”

“So, people pay you to wear their clothes or use their gear?”

“That’s the general idea behind endorsements.”

Laura wiped her hands and took the last swig of her drink. “I thought so. I recognized your type right off.”

“Oh, really? What type would that be?”

She counted them off on her fingers. “Never done an honest day’s work in your life. Only concerned with your own life. No thought of anyone else. No idea how to love anyone but yourself.”

The fierce tightness in his chest made it difficult to breathe. She’d seen through his shield with the precision of a surgeon. When had he become so transparent? He’d have to be more careful. Keep his guard up. He couldn’t give her a chance to see any more. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

“Let me ask you, do you have one close friend? Someone who would stick by you no matter what?”

Adam ran down the list of people he knew, the guys who followed him around. Could he count any of them as a true friend? The truth hit him like a shard of ice in his heart. “No.”

“I rest my case.” Laura slid off the tailgate and closed the box of pizza. “Time to get back to work. We can’t rebuild until we take it all apart.”

Sucking in a breath, Adam tried to ignore the sting of his new realization. He had no real friends because he’d never wanted any. Casual friendships were easy to walk away from. Anything more was messy and complicated. But now he wondered what his lack of relationships had really cost him.

Chapter Three

Laura Durrant pulled the truck to a stop in her parents driveway, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Adam reached for the door handle at the same time she started to talk. “We got a lot done today. I couldn’t have gotten this far without your help. Thanks, Holbrook, for being so cooperative.”

She braved a look in his direction. One corner of his mouth was hooked up into a grin.

“That wasn’t cooperation. That was fear. You scare me.”

A chuckle escaped her throat. “I doubt anything scares a man who can swim with sharks and run with the bulls.”

He leaned forward slightly to look at her. “How did you know about that?”

Warmth infused her cheeks and she shrugged to hide her discomfort. “I looked you up on the internet.” Now he would think she was interested in him. No way.

Adam sighed and shook his head. “Ah. A man can’t have any secrets anymore.” He started to get out of the truck, but when she didn’t move he glanced back at her. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“No. I need to check on my other jobs.” Gripping the steering wheel, she gathered courage. “Holbrook, I want to apologize to you.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you—about you being selfish. That was unkind and judgmental. You worked hard today and you didn’t deserve my nasty comments. I’m sorry.”

It was clear from his expression her apology had caught him by surprise. He held her gaze a long moment then rubbed his forehead. “It’s all right. You weren’t wrong. You hit the nail square on the head.”

Remorse flooded her conscience. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay. As a matter of fact, it’s nice to hear the truth for a change.”

It’s not what she’d expected him to say. “What do you mean?”

“Most people I know tell me what they think I want to hear. They don’t want to offend the hand that drives the adventure train.”

She’d never thought about that side of things. It must have cost him to admit that. What would it be like to know people didn’t really care about you, only what you could do for them? “I’m sorry, Adam. I have a bad habit of speaking my mind. It was one of the things my...some people don’t like about me.” He smiled over at her, causing a small skip in her heartbeat.

“Really? I think it’s one of your more interesting qualities.” He climbed out of the truck, offering a little salute before shutting the door. She waited while he took the steps to the back porch before backing out of the driveway. Every time she thought she had the guy figured out, he threw her a curve. No one liked her forthright attitude. Why did he?

* * *

Adam knew Laura was watching him as he climbed the back steps to her parents’ home. She probably wanted to make sure he didn’t bolt. Or else she was feeling sorry for him. He hadn’t intended to speak the truth but something about Laura made him want to. He was glad to be away from her penetrating assessment.

He reached for the door knob and hesitated.

But he wasn’t sure he wanted to be back at the Durrants’ either.

Adam grew uneasy at having to walk back into the Durrants’ home. Since coming to Dover, nothing he’d experienced was familiar. He didn’t like that. He pushed open the back door, stepped into the kitchen and froze.

The air was warm with rich delectable aromas. A woman he’d never seen before stood at the stove. For a second he wondered if he’d returned to the wrong house.

“Oh, hello, Adam. I’m Angie Durrant. Sorry I wasn’t here this morning to greet you, but Tom thought it might be more comfortable for you with only him. Sort of a man-to-man thing.”

Adam stared at the scene in front of him, trying to process it all. Mrs. Durrant was an older version of her daughter. Slender with short dark blond hair turning gray. Her smile was like her daughter’s, as well. It lit up her eyes.

“Oh, don’t forget to call the station. Use that phone over there. The number is beside it.”

Her thoughtfulness caught him off guard. She’d actually tried to make things easy for him, acting as if she cared about what happened to him. He moved across the kitchen to the desk, noticing the table was set with colorful dishes and bright placemats. This wasn’t normal. He placed his call, then turned back to Mrs. Durrant.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

His stomach answered for him. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“Good. You have time to clean up if you’d like. Tom will be here in about twenty minutes. Come on down when you’re ready.”

Fifteen minutes later Adam returned downstairs certain he’d been mistaken about the warm welcome to find only one thing had changed. Tom Durrant was home. They sat down at the table, and after Mr. Durrant had offered the blessing Mrs. Durrant passed the food. He’d never tasted anything so good. Tuna casserole, she’d said. Nothing fancy. But it was definitely on par with some of the haute cuisine he’d tasted in his travels. The conversation revolved around various events in Dover. He answered questions put to him, but offered nothing more. He made his escape as soon as he could without appearing rude, explaining he was tired from the day’s work.

In his room he stretched out on the bed, every muscle in his body protesting the abuse he’d given them today. He tried to watch television, but couldn’t concentrate. He wanted to sleep, but he was too tired. If only he could get this situation sorted out, find some solid ground to stand on and get through the month. Trouble was, he had no frame of reference. No experience with family and home-cooked meals. How was he supposed to behave here? What did they expect from him? He didn’t know how to talk to these people. He’d never talked to his parents. They were never around.

A knock on the door brought him to his feet. He opened it to a smiling Tom Durrant holding a book in his hand. “I forgot to mention that we’ll all be going to church in the morning. It’s important that you attend.” He handed the book to Adam. It was the Holy Bible. “Thought you might need one. This belonged to my younger son, Ty.”

“Mr. Durrant, I appreciate what you’re doing here—letting me stay with you instead of in the jail—but you don’t have to go to any trouble on my account.”

“Call me Tom. And I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Eating together, fixing big meals, all that. I can take my meals up here. It’s not a problem.”

Tom frowned. “We’re not doing anything differently, Adam. We always have our meals together. Always have. That’s what families do. Service is at ten-thirty. Good night.”

Adam shut the door, thinking of all the places he’d rather be than with the Durrants in Dover. Bible stuff. He fingered the worn leather cover, an odd tension swirling deep in his gut. It had been a long time since he’d looked at the words inside. A friend in college had led him to the Lord and for the first time in his life he’d felt as if he belonged someplace. He was loved and accepted for who he was. Someone—God—cared what happened to him and had a plan for his life.

Then he’d gone back home. His parents dismissed his newfound faith as a fad that he would hopefully get over. And he had in a way. He’d tried to find a church to attend, but the arguments with his father had escalated. When Adam had declared his intention to live his life in his own way, and refused to go to work at Holbrook Electronics, his father had retaliated by disowning him and placing a restrictive condition on his trust fund that demanded his appearance each year to collect. His father’s way of keeping him in line and making him see the error of his ways.

His faith had taken a backseat to his troubles and he’d drifted. But lately he’d sensed the Lord tapping his shoulder, trying to get his attention. Maybe that’s why he’d ended up here in Dover.

* * *

Laura ended the call to her foreman, Shaw McKinney, and smiled. So far everything was on track with her other jobs. She hoped she would be as blessed with the gazebo project. The last thing she needed was another job. Her schedule was full and teetering on a wobbly budget. She should be helping on the Conrad place or pushing her attorney to settle the Mobile mess. Instead, she’d be spending the next four weeks tracking down two-hundred-year-old timber to replace the damaged wood. The Dover gazebo was one of the few historic buildings in town that was absolutely pristine. The only changes made over the years had been the addition of electricity, which had been upgraded for safety reasons a decade ago. Only the most minor repairs had been necessary. Until Adam Holbrook had come to town.

Pouring a glass of sweet tea, she called for her little dog, Drywall, to follow her out onto the front porch of her house. She settled into the old glider, inhaling the pungent fall air and letting her gaze drift to the small buds that were starting to form on the winter camellia bush at the edge of her porch.

Adam Holbrook hadn’t behaved like she’d expected him to. She’d been prepared to prod, threaten and argue about everything she asked him to do. Instead he’d been cooperative and helpful. His reaction to her apology had thrown her a curve, as well. She’d expected him to say something smart, to defend his lifestyle. Instead he coolly acknowledged her comments as truth.

She couldn’t figure him out. But it was only the first day. Sooner or later he’d show his true colors and balk at the work. It was all new and exciting to him now, like one of his wild adventures. She doubted he had the staying power or the attention span. He’d grow bored and then she’d be working alone. She felt sure he was incapable of any kind of commitment.

She scratched behind Wally’s ears. And yet, there was something about him that hinted at another man beneath his polished exterior. Someone nice. No. She was simply tired and irritated, building castles in the sky, and it was time to go to bed. There was nothing worthwhile about Adam Holbrook.

* * *

The knot of tension in Adam’s gut tightened as he followed Tom Durrant down the aisle and into a pew midway in the sanctuary the next morning. It had been years since he’d been to church, other than a wedding or a funeral. The Bible in his hand felt heavy and awkward. He could sense the eyes of the congregation on his back, and he was thankful when they finally took their seats.

Adam glanced down at his khaki pants, relieved to see most of the congregation dressed casually. But it was more than his outward appearance that made him edgy. Inwardly he wasn’t prepared to sit in God’s house. He allowed his gaze to travel around the old church, struck by the eerie familiarity of the place. With its stained-glass windows, carved wood moldings and massive pipe organ, it reminded him of the church he’d attended in college. Strange that he’d find one so similar here in Dover.

Mrs. Durrant stopped at the pew, Adam stood and stepped into the aisle to let her in to sit beside her husband. He took his seat again only to feel a tap on his shoulder a few moments later. He looked up to find a lovely young woman smiling at him. With a shock he realized it was Laura Durrant. She gestured for him to scoot over to allow her to join them. He’d lost his voice. He realized it was the first time he’d seen her without either her baseball cap or hard hat. The hair he’d guessed to be dishwater blond was in reality a rich honey brown with amber highlights. It hung in soft waves, caressing her neck and shoulders like fine silk. The flowing black-and-white skirt flirted around her calves. The white top gently skimmed her curves, something the loose-fitting T-shirts never did. Her violet eyes were wide with thick lashes. The graceful line of her jaw was the perfect frame for soft lips and a tilted nose.

Until now, he’d only seen the stern, no-nonsense contractor. There’d been glimpses of her softer side, but it had been hidden behind her tool belt and power tools. He looked at her again, unable to take his eyes off her.

She frowned at him in disapproval. “What?”

“You look nice.”

She blushed and faced forward.

He groaned inwardly. Brilliant. What a dumb thing to tell a woman. When the music started, he sent up a grateful prayer. He needed a distraction. More important, he needed to hear what was said here today. He’d been away from his faith too long. The liturgy unfolded in a welcome and familiar way, creating a deep ache in his chest. Pastor Jim’s words hit their mark in his spirit as he spoke of the rich young man who asked how to gain eternal life, but when told he had to give up his possessions and follow the Lord, had turned away.

The story could have been his own. He’d found his faith, but once away from the campus and out in the real world, he’d drifted away. Now, he felt an overpowering need to reconnect and restore the faith he’d been ignoring.

* * *

Laura stood when the pastor called for prayer, uncomfortably aware of Adam Holbrook beside her. Dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt and khaki pants he didn’t look much different from the other men in the church. And yet, he did. The white shirt highlighted his deep tan, reminding her that he spent a lot of time outdoors. There was a crisp, clean look to him today that was ridiculously attractive and appealing. Each time she inhaled she drew in the tangy scent of his aftershave. She was grateful when the music started. She was in church to worship. Not admire a man. Her voice faltered, however, when she heard Adam join in the praise song. He didn’t sing loudly, but he knew the words and he had a nice singing voice. A rich baritone that flowed over her senses like warm honey.

Her mind churned with questions. She hadn’t expected him to know anything about church, but he focused intently on the service, never taking his eyes from the pastor. She breathed a sigh of relief when the service ended. She needed to put some distance between herself and her new saw boy.

As the congregation started to file out, her father reached over and touched her arm.

“Will you take Adam to the house? Your mom and I need to meet with the worship committee chairman for a few minutes. We won’t be long.”

Laura nodded, hiding her reluctance behind a smile. She glanced up at Adam to find him smiling down at her. She searched for something to say. “You have a nice singing voice.”

He chuckled softly. “You didn’t think I’d know how to behave in a church, did you?”

“No, that’s not true.”

Adam leaned down and spoke softly into her ear. “It’s not nice to lie in church, Boo.”

Her cheeks flamed. She opened her mouth to deny it, but remembered his comment about people telling him what he wanted to hear. “No, I didn’t.”

Adam chuckled deep in his throat. “I’m a believer, Laura, just not a very faithful one.” They stepped into the aisle, Adam placed his hand lightly on her back and they made their way to the door. “I had a friend in college who brought me to the Lord. I was pretty active for several years.”

“What happened?”

“I graduated.”

She started to ask more questions, but they’d reached the door and the waiting pastor. She shook Jim’s hand and moved through the doorway, waiting for Adam. He stood in front of the pastor a long moment. Jim nodded a couple of times, then smiled. Adam joined her, a thoughtful look on his face. He looked down at her, his gaze probing and slightly amused. Her heart quickened. Suddenly, being this close to Adam Holbrook was not a good idea. She turned and hurried to the truck.

* * *

Adam eased back out of the Durrants’ crowded kitchen and found a spot in the adjoining family room where he’d be out of the way. The aroma of roast beef and steaming vegetables sent his taste buds into overdrive. All his other senses were being bombarded, as well. From the moment he’d stepped into the Durrant home after church, the house had been buzzing with activity. Laura had stopped by the gazebo to check on things before going on to her parents’ house. He’d found it distracting, trying to reconcile the woman he’d worked with yesterday with the lovely woman who’d sat beside him in church. Being in the close confines of the truck cab had only highlighted the difference. A difference that made him curious about this new side of Laura Durrant.

Angie Durrant caught his eyes and smiled. “Adam, could you come and give us a hand?” He swallowed the knot of unease in his throat but obeyed. Laura handed him a potato peeler and a spud when he joined her at the large center island. He stared down at the items in his hands. He’d peeled a potato. Once. He heard Laura chuckle and glanced over at her. Her violet eyes were sparkling with amusement.

“Like this.” She demonstrated the technique quickly and handed the items back to him. “Then cut them into pieces and drop them into the pot on the stove.”

He did as he was told, but when he put his pieces of potato in the pot, they didn’t look the same. He turned to Laura to inquire, but she was hurrying from the room.

“Matt and Shelby are here, Mom.”

He searched his memory. Matt. The oldest brother who was getting married to his former sweetheart. Angie Durrant wiped her hands on a towel and hurried to the hallway. Adam sought out his little corner in the family room. No need to intrude on family time.

Before he could take a few steps, the women were back, forcing him to stop and get caught up in the moment.

Mrs. Durrant touched his arm gently and smiled at the tall man who came into the kitchen. “Adam, this is our oldest son, Matt. Matt, our houseguest, Adam Holbrook.”

Houseguest? He appreciated her not spelling out his situation. Matt extended his hand and shook Adam’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

He resembled a younger version of Tom.

“And this is his soon-to-be wife, Shelby Russell.”

The elegant brunette smiled, but didn’t shake his hand because her hands were full of a pie and a basket.

“Hello. Could I get you to take one of these, please?”

Adam relieved her of the pie, setting it down on the only clear spot in the kitchen.

He turned around to find a little boy staring up at him. He had green eyes, sandy hair and a nose full of freckles. “Hello.”

“My name is Kenny. What’s your name?”

“Adam.”

“Like in the Bible.” Kenny frowned and wrinkled his nose. “There aren’t any Kennys in the Bible.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any,” Adam admitted.

“Are you the man who broke the gazebo?”

Adam’s felt a rush of embarrassment warm his face.

“Kenny.”

Adam glanced over at the boy’s father, who looked as embarrassed as he felt. No sense in trying to hide his guilt. “Yes, I am. I wasn’t paying attention and I wrecked it with my car.”

Kenny looked up at him with sympathetic eyes. “Sometimes I don’t pay attention. I get in trouble a lot. But it’s okay because my daddy loves me anyway. That’s what daddies do.”

A large knot formed in the center of Adam’s chest. It was hard to find his voice. Not all daddies. “That’s good.”

A young girl joined the boy. “Hi, I’m Cassidy. Aunt Laura is helping you fix the gazebo, right?”

“She is.”

“Good, because we like to hang out there a lot and now we can’t.”

Shelby Russell came and steered the children to the other room with instructions to set the table.

Adam glanced around the kitchen. Everyone was going about their business, not paying any attention to him at all. Suddenly, he wanted out. Away from all the warm and cozy nonsense. He tried to battle his impulse to flee. He wanted to go to his room to sort things out, but to do so would be rude. He took a step backward, seeking distance. Everyone seemed happy, even joyful. It couldn’t be real. Did every happy family act this way?

Angie Durrant caught his attention, motioning him to the kitchen. She handed him the bowl of rice and smiled. “Go put that on the table then tell the boys we’re ready to eat.”

He nodded, wondering for the tenth time how he ended up here. He’d never felt so out of place, so awkward, in his whole life.

Were they trying to rehabilitate him? Were they trying to make him feel the burden of his damaging their landmark? Or was it money? Did they think he would compensate them later for their kindness? The thought immediately filled him with shame. These people weren’t like the ones he normally associated with. The Durrants were people he had little exposure to.

Adam placed the bowl, then moved slowly into the family room. The guys were focused on the Saints football game. “Food’s ready.”

Matt turned and smiled. “’Bout time. I’m starving.” He punched his dad playfully in the arm. “Chow.”

Tom stood and tapped his grandson, Kenny, on the head. “Come on, kiddo.”

Adam followed them into the dining room, a strange tightness in the center of his chest as he watched the family come together. Laura smiled and motioned him to the seat beside her.

He asked himself again if what he was seeing was real. Probably not. They were all on their best behavior for his sake. Trying to put on a show. The way his parents did whenever they came home. Once a year his mother would parade out her best china and invite the crowd. They’d all smile, put on a display of family happiness, then the next morning, they’d all go their separate ways.

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