Book 3 Shoreline Surrender
Chapter 1
T he wrench slipped from Maddie’s hands for the third time, clattering against the concrete floor of the laundry room. She let out a slow breath, pressing the heels of her hands against the chipped wooden counter, trying to will herself not to completely lose it.
The valve wasn’t budging. Not even a little. The guy in the tutorial video had made it look easy—just grip and twist, a simple repair, something any normal homeowner could do.
She wasn’t a normal homeowner.
This house wasn’t hers—not really. It belonged to her late mother, and before that, it had belonged to her family—back when that word still meant something. Now it was just a ghost of a place, full of dust and memories she didn’t want.
Maddie bent to grab the wrench, her fingers sore from gripping it too hard. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough for this. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough for any of it.
Her phone rang from the kitchen counter. She closed her eyes for a second before forcing herself to move, wiping her hands on her already-dirty jeans as she picked up.
“Natalie,” she answered, barely resisting the urge to collapse onto the nearest chair. “Please tell me your contractor is real and not some elaborate prank you’re playing on me.”
A laugh crackled through the line. “Happy Saturday to you too, sunshine.”
Maddie exhaled sharply. “Sorry. I’m just—” She looked back toward the laundry room, where her wrench lay abandoned like a symbol of personal failure. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should have just called someone. But I’m trying to handle things myself. Like a capable adult. And so far, that’s going terribly.”
“You could just wait for my contractor instead of torturing yourself.”
“That’s the thing. Where is he?” Maddie pushed a hand through her hair, frustration laced through every word. “I thought he was supposed to be here already.”
A pause. Then, casually, Natalie said, “You do know he’s my brother, right?”
Maddie frowned. “Your what?”
“My brother.”
There was silence as Maddie scrambled through the last few months of conversations, searching for any mention of a brother. Had she known that?
No. She definitely hadn’t.
“Oh,” she said weakly.
“Oh?” Natalie repeated, amused.
“I—” Maddie bit her lip. “I guess I just never asked.”
Natalie let out a slow sigh. “Yeah. I know.”
The words hit heavier than they should have. Maddie shifted uncomfortably.
She hadn’t asked because she hadn’t been allowed to ask. David had kept her world small, filled it only with his friends, his colleagues, his people. Even after she’d finally left, she still felt trapped inside it, like there was an invisible wall between her and everyone else.
“I swear I can be a good friend,” she murmured. “Don’t leave me.”
“I know.” Natalie’s voice softened. “I’m just saying, don’t be weird about it when he gets there. He’s not some random guy. He’s family.”
Maddie was still processing that when she heard a truck pulling into the driveway. “Sounds like he’s here.”
Maddie stared toward the front door like it might explode. A stranger. No, not a stranger. Someone Natalie trusted. But that didn’t make it easier.
“I should go,” Maddie said. “I’ll chat with you later.”
Maddie hung up, pressing the phone to her forehead for a second before exhaling hard.
Then she straightened, smoothed her hands over her jeans, and forced herself toward the front door, peeking out the small window as the truck door opened. She pulled back, and caught her reflection in the mirror by the front door and hesitated.
She looked… tired.
The contractor was going to know immediately she had no idea what she was doing. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t take advantage of that and over-bill her.
Listening to the truck door close, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and exhaled slowly, forcing herself to shake off the nerves curling in her stomach.
Her bright blonde hair was still tangled from this morning, long waves cascading over her shoulders in a way that should have looked effortlessly beachy but instead just seemed undone. Her big, sapphire eyes were too wide, too watchful, framed by thick lashes that only made her exhaustion more obvious. She pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to smooth the faint smudge of dirt on her cheek from earlier.
Her mom had always told her she looked like a mix of both sides of the family—Scandinavian and Scottish, sun-kissed and windswept. The kind of beauty people expected to be radiant, golden, effortless.
Lately, all she saw was sharp angles.
Her cheekbones were more pronounced than they used to be, her jaw a little too defined, the hollows beneath her eyes slightly deeper. She blamed the stress. The lack of sleep. The fact that she kept forgetting to eat unless she forced herself.
The doorbell finally rang.
She rolled her shoulders back, trying to ignore how much looser her soft, ripped jeans felt on her hips. The light green tank top she’d thrown on this morning hung slightly off one shoulder, exposing the bronzed line of her collarbone. Her body was naturally long-limbed, athletic—straight lines instead of curves, but the weight loss had made her feel even smaller, even less like herself.
Then she reached for the door handle, steadied herself, and pulled it open.
Maddie opened the door and immediately forgot how to breathe.
The man standing on her doorstep was… not what she expected.
She had been bracing for someone older, gruff, maybe with a beer gut and a permanent scowl. Someone who would take one look at her and instantly know she had no idea what she was doing, that she was an imposter pretending to be capable.
Instead, she was looking at a mountain of a man, all broad shoulders and solid muscle, wrapped in a fitted charcoal t-shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was built like a Roman statue carved from living granite.
And his face.
Maddie felt something falter deep in her chest.
Perfectly symmetrical. A strong, sculpted jaw. A straight, regal nose. Full lips. And the eyes—piercing blue, deeper than hers, framed by thick brows that only made them more intense. Her fingers tightened slightly on the doorframe before she caught herself.
Heath Carrington was looking at her like he wasn’t at all surprised to see her—calm, assessing, patient. That almost made it worse.
Maddie straightened. He had the air of someone who had already figured her out. She didn’t like that.
“Madeline?” His voice was deep, smooth. The kind of voice that belonged on a classical radio station, not on a doorstep in front of her mother’s neglected house.
She blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the full use of her name. No one called her that except for David, and when David said it, it sounded like a reprimand.
“Yes,” she said, shifting subtly against the doorframe, trying to pull herself together. “And you are…?”
One of his dark brows lifted, just slightly. “DoorDash.”
“I didn’t order anything.”
“You sure? What about a full-home renovation with a side of emotional damage?”
Maddie’s lips parted slightly, caught somewhere between surprise and exasperation. “I—what?”
Heath looked entirely unfazed, standing there like he had all the time in the world to watch her process his nonsense. “No? That’s not what you ordered?”
“No,” she said flatly.
“Shame. That’s my specialty.”
Maddie narrowed her eyes. Was he messing with her?
“I don’t need a full-home renovation,” she said stiffly, trying to reclaim some control of the conversation. “Just some minor repairs.”
“Uh-huh.” Heath glanced past her into the dimly lit entryway, where a missing floorboard and a half-peeled section of wallpaper were doing a fantastic job of proving her wrong.
Maddie cleared her throat, shifting slightly to block his view.
Heath smirked. “Right. Minor repairs.”
She folded her arms. “Are you always this—” She searched for the right word.
“Charming?” he supplied helpfully.
“I was going to say insufferable.”
He let out a deep, amused chuckle. “Guess we’ll find out. Mind if I come in? Or are we going to do this whole consultation on the porch?”
Maddie exhaled, telling herself the only reason she was letting him in was because he came recommended. Not because he was handsome. Not because he somehow managed to be infuriating and weirdly… disarming at the same time.
She hesitated just long enough for Heath to arch a brow again. “I promise, Madeline, I don’t bite.”
She shot him a pointed look. “I don’t go by Madeline.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Good to know.”
She should have corrected him again, should have made it clear that Maddie was what she preferred, but the words stuck in her throat, because the way he said her full name sounded entirely too natural coming from his mouth.
With a reluctant sigh, she stepped back, opening the door wider. “Fine. But if you track in dirt, you’re cleaning it up.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Heath said smoothly, stepping inside with the ease of a man who absolutely would.
Heath stepped inside like he belonged there.
Maddie resisted the urge to fold her arms, suddenly aware of how much space he took up. It wasn’t just that he was big—though, objectively, he was a very large man—it was that he carried himself like someone who knew exactly what he was doing, wherever he was, at all times.
It made her uneasy.
She was used to men who pretended to know everything so they could control the conversation, control the situation, control her. But Heath didn’t seem to have an agenda. He didn’t even ask her where to start—just started looking.
His head tilted slightly as he glanced up at the entryway arch, his eyes moving over the details like he was cataloging them. “Huh. This is interesting.”
Maddie frowned. “What is?”
He stepped closer, pointing to the trim. “See how the woodwork curves here? That’s not factory. This was probably done by hand.”
She blinked up at it, not seeing whatever he saw.
“La Jolla houses from this period—late 1940s, right?—they were built by a lot of individual craftsmen, not mass developers. That’s why each one is a little different. I bet if we checked the original blueprints, the arch wasn’t supposed to look like this.”
Maddie stared at the trim like it had personally betrayed her. “You can tell that just by looking at it?”
Heath shrugged. “I like old houses.”
She made a noncommittal sound, already regretting letting him inside.
He took another step, running a slow hand over the doorframe. His hands were ridiculous—big, calloused, built for work—but when they moved, they did so with care, precision, purpose.
“So,” he said, casually, still facing the wood, “you grew up here?”
Maddie’s pulse tripped at the ease of the question.
She wasn’t good at casual.
“Yes,” she said carefully.
“You the oldest or youngest?”
She blinked. He didn’t ask if she had siblings, just assumed she did. The accuracy of it made her uncomfortable.
“Younger,” she admitted, reluctant. “I have a brother.”
Heath nodded like that made sense. “Your parents still in the area?”
Her fingers curled slightly. She didn’t want to talk about this.
“My dad’s up the coast. Retirement home.”
“And your mom?”
Maddie’s throat tightened. “She passed.”
Heath turned to her then, his gaze shifting—not pitying, not overly sympathetic, just… acknowledging.
“I’m sorry,” he said. And then, with the same ease, “She must’ve really loved this house.”
Maddie nodded, feeling her chest tighten.
He didn’t ask how. Didn’t push. Just took in the space around him, like he was seeing it the way her mother had once seen it.
A beat of silence stretched between them before Heath continued his slow, deliberate walk through the house, his eyes moving like he was reading a book she couldn’t see.
He stopped in the hallway, frowning slightly. “You hear that?”
Maddie tensed. “Hear what?”
He stepped closer to the wall, tapping his knuckles against the wood paneling. A deep, hollow sound echoed back.
“That’s not right,” he muttered.
“What’s not right?” she asked, immediately regretting the question.
He turned back to her, far too amused. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
She tensed. “I don’t like that there are options.”
“The good news is your house isn’t falling down.”
Maddie inhaled sharply. “And the bad news?”
He smiled, like he had way too much experience delivering bad news. “The insulation in these walls is either nonexistent or completely shot. I’d bet money you’ve got water damage behind here, probably some mold too.”
Maddie’s stomach sank.
Heath tapped his knuckles against the wall again, thoughtful. “You been getting sick a lot? Headaches? Coughing?”
Maddie’s throat immediately itched. “I—” She stopped, hating how easily he’d unraveled something she hadn’t even let herself consider.
She had been getting headaches. And she had been waking up congested. But she’d chalked it up to stress, dust, allergies.
Heath just nodded, already moving again. “Yeah. We’ll get that checked.”
Maddie stiffened. “Checked? I—No, I didn’t agree to anything.”
He turned back to her, brow arched. “You planning on leaving mold in the walls?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, frowning. “I—”
“Relax,” Heath said easily. “We’ll just open up a panel and take a look. No pressure.”
No pressure. Right. Except her brain was already spiraling.
How bad was it? What if it was everywhere? What if the whole house needed to be torn apart?
She swallowed hard, trying not to let panic take root. She didn’t have the money for a full renovation. She had a plan—fix a few things, sell, move on.
She wasn’t supposed to be here forever.
But now?
Now she had a six-foot-three human alarm bell in her hallway, casually diagnosing disasters she hadn’t even noticed.
Maddie folded her arms tightly. “If I agree to have someone check it, it has to be reasonable. No unnecessary work.”
Heath looked at her. Just looked at her. Then, like he had already figured her out, he said, “Who screwed you over?”
Maddie’s pulse jumped. “Excuse me?”
His expression was unreadable. “Someone did a number on you. That’s why you’re this tense.”
Her stomach locked up like she’d been exposed.
“I’m just being cautious,” she said, her voice tight.
“I bet,” Heath murmured, studying her.
Something in her burned.
She didn’t like this. Didn’t like how quickly he had read her, how effortlessly he sifted through her defenses and saw what she was trying to hide.
She had spent years learning how to make herself unreadable.
And yet, here he was.
Looking at her like he already knew she was afraid.
Maddie forced herself to breathe.
“I just need the house fixed up,” she said, voice carefully neutral. “That’s it.”
Something flickered in Heath’s gaze, but he nodded, letting it go.
“Alright,” he said, easy again, stepping back. “I’ll get a plan together. We’ll take care of what’s necessary. No more, no less.”
Maddie hesitated, still feeling unsettled.
She wasn’t sure if she believed him.
But she wanted to.
And that, somehow, scared her the most.