I knew it probably wasn’t healthy, but I didn’t want to change just the same. I would get there eventually. One day. For now, even being on the porch and seeing a doe made me think of both the good and the bad. It reminded me of the good mornings we had on that porch, sipping coffee and holding hands. It reminded me of the first mornings without her, when I sat by the legs of her chair and sobbed.

My brothers had offered to come help. They would move her things for me, pack them up, and put them in storage so I could decide what to do with them later. But I couldn’t do that either. Then the house would just be empty. Everything reminded me of her, so everything would have to go. How could I keep a lamp that she picked out right after we got married? Or a wooden mallard duck she thought was so cute she just had to have it on our front porch? Or the couch where we lay together by the fire when the electricity went out, snuggled warm and happy in the quiet?

I had to shove away those thoughts. It had only been two years. I was allowed to grieve if I wanted to. If I needed to.

Standing up, I motioned my mug out to the deer as if I was saying cheers and turned to go inside. I drained the rest of the coffee and shut the screen door behind me. I locked it, which really wasn’t necessary out there in the woods, but I did it anyway. I rinsed the mug in the sink and then turned it upside down to drain. She hated when I did that. It always tickled me how inordinately angry she got about my mug. The spat would always end with a kiss.

I sighed.

Not anymore.

I grabbed a jacket off the coat rack and headed out. I left my peace and quiet behind, locking the door and hopping into my truck. It was only a few miles up the road to the vineyard, but the peace and quiet would seem light-years away. The brothers were there, and they were loud. My crew would be there, and they were even louder.

Peace and quiet were gone the second I drove away from the house. Figuring I should just rip off the Band-Aid, I turned the radio on and turned the volume up high. By the time I got to the vineyard, Iron Maiden had my blood pumping, and the coffee was starting to kick in. I’d need it. It was time to do the work on the kitchen that had been the bane of my existence.

Derek had cornered me again on Monday with some last-minute changes. I had heard them all before, mostly from the blonde woman named Ally, but frankly, she wasn’t in charge. Her suggestions were just that—suggestions. Derek was part of the ownership though, and as much as I fought him over most of it, eventually I had to give him something. I was about ready to throw my hands up in the air and say fuck it. He could do the build himself.

Pulling in next to the trailer, I noticed Duncan had already beat me to the vineyard. His truck was parked near the kitchen itself, and I bypassed my usual spot to go park near him. Duncan Grady was a great guy, a hell of a hand at my construction company, and as close to a friend as I had anymore. In the years since my wife’s death, he had been one of the few people outside of my brothers who could get me to relax and maybe even smile. He had spent a few Sundays at my place watching football or Saturdays watching races.

Duncan himself was in front of the truck, his old mutt lying on the sidewalk at his feet, sound asleep as usual. It was the laziest damn dog I had ever met in my life, but also one of the sweetest. As he sensed me walking up, his tail started to wag, and he rolled further over on his back to show me his tummy.

“Morning, Duncan,” I said, walking up and scratching the dog’s belly.

“Morning,” he said, not looking up from the blueprints that were spread out over the hood of his car. “What the hell is this?”

He was pointing to an adjustment I had agreed to since it didn’t outright change much and would be rather easy for me to do on my own if I had to.

“More changes,” I said. “Nothing I can’t handle in an hour or so.”

He huffed a laugh and kept poring over them.

This was what I understood. What I knew. I was comfortable around blueprints and tools and sawdust. It was my element. I had spent my entire adult life doing this kind of work, and at thirty-eight, I was damn well ground in. There wasn’t a lot that I didn’t think I could handle with a hammer in my hand and a partner like Duncan to back me up.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net