Nailed (Heartbreaker Trades #2)

Chapter 1

Cheap Motel Sheets

SARAH

TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO

The morning of the best night of my life, I woke up sobbing on cheap motel sheets three hundred miles from home.

I’d been dreaming about my ex-husband. The worst part? It was a good dream. He’d begged me to stay. I’d been so relieved, like everything was some big silly misunderstanding.

And my dog was there.

Now, waking up to the cold dark of reality, the clock on the motel’s bedside table telling me it was six-thirty AM on a Friday, my heart splattered on the floor like a rotten tomato.

On any normal Friday at this time, I’d be up and making a full-fat flat white on my fancy espresso machine, in my new-build suburban home outside Cincinnati.

In half an hour, I’d give our Yorkie, Fritz, some snuggles before heading out to my cushy executive role at one of the largest property developers in the country.

But this wasn’t a normal Friday. Because three months ago, my sweet, handsome husband took me to dinner after work.

I thought we were going to celebrate the promotion he’d been angling for.

Instead, that night, he cleared his throat before the appetizers came and said, “Sarah, I’m not in love with you. ”

You’d think those would be the worst seven words to hear from your husband of a decade, while wearing a cocktail dress, wineglass an inch from your lips.

They weren’t. The next words out of his mouth were.

“I’m not sure I ever really was.”

He’d gotten the promotion, and it seems he wanted to take everything to the next level.

Everything except me.

As early morning sun slanted in through the motel’s curtains now, my hand clutched the band of gold I still hadn’t managed to get rid of. The one that was supposed to mean forever. But when I closed my eyes again, I didn’t see Ted’s face.

I saw Fritz.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’d loved dogs, particularly the ones everyone else didn’t.

Maybe it was because I grew up gangly and shy, with glasses, oversized buck teeth that took half a decade of orthodontics to repair, and a mole on the left side of my chin kids at school loved to make my whole identity.

Fritz was six years old, with buck teeth just like mine had been. She had a patch of gray hair right between her slightly crossed eyes, and one of her legs was shorter than the other three. Between the leg and the impaired vision, she ran everywhere sideways.

She was perfect. And though we’d only adopted her six weeks before, I loved her beyond reason.

But thinking of Fritz now, the dog I was growing more and more certain I missed more than my husband, the last drop of sorrow from that dream drained out of me, and I did a full Uno reverse into rage.

I turned over, grabbing the pillow and wrapping it around my face.

Then I screamed.

Fuck that man. Fuck him and our perfectly fine life he fucked up.

Fuck. Him.

Screaming felt so good, I did it again, my whole body going rigid and hot as I expunged my anger into four inches of fluff.

Finally, I took the pillow off my face. And startled as a blob moved on my left.

“Oh shit.” I fumbled on my glasses. The blob came into focus.

My friend Ellie’s eyes were wide, her sleep-mussed brown curls flattened onto one side of her head.

“Sorry,” I croaked.

“Sarah!” she exclaimed. “I thought you were being murdered!”

A beat passed, then we both exploded into laughter.

That felt better than any stupid dream. Even if I could still feel Fritz’s sweet fur under my palms.

An hour later, we were on the road again.

Except for getting brutally dumped, missing my dog, and then kicked while I was down with that dream this morning, I was actually feeling pretty good.

I merged onto the I-90 East, lowering my visor against the brilliant morning summer sun, while Ellie lined up our road trip playlist. We were halfway to Vermont, where I’d hopefully be starting the next chapter of my life, one entirely on my own.

The very next day after that dinner, I’d started applying to jobs all over the country.

I may not have been lovable, but I was absolutely hirable.

I’d poured my heart into my working life, going from apprentice carpenter to VP at the biggest developer in Cincinnati in the fifteen years since I left trade school.

But even though I got a ton of bites, nothing felt quite right. That is, until I got a callback from Reilly Contracting Group, a boutique contractor firm in Quince Valley, Vermont.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” Ellie said. “I’m in awe of you.”

“I mean, it’s a little unhinged to drive all this way for an interview with only the clothes on my back,” I said. “It’s going to be a drive of shame back to Cincinnati if I don’t get the job.”

I’d done all the other interviews online. This was undeniably risky.

But Ellie lowered her sunglasses. “Sarah. You could do this job with your eyes closed.”

She wasn’t wrong. The role was Director of Construction, and on the outside, it was a step backward on the career ladder, seeing as I’d been a VP at my last job. It was a major pay cut too, and kind of the middle of nowhere.

But I’d get to use my skills in the office and I’d get to let my hands dirty again. I missed the smell of sawdust and the whine of wood saws.

“I mean, I could biff the interview,” I said. “But it’s not like I have anything to lose.”

Ellie lifted her glasses back up onto her nose. “Exactly. Anyway, we’re simply badasses, remember?”

We both laughed at that. It’s what we used to tell ourselves at the construction firm we’d worked at together in our early twenties, when all the jerks on the job sites tried to give us shit just because we were young. And had boobs.

“We always did work circles around those assholes,” I agreed.

God, I was happy to have Ellie here. We weren’t as close as we used to be thanks to distance. But last week, after a ten minute conversation, she got on a plane, flying all the way from Sacramento just so I wouldn’t have to do this road trip on my own.

I was still overwhelmed that she’d done that for me. Ellie was a single mom, with a roster of electrical jobs I knew she’d backed out of for me.

“It’s summer vacation,” she’d said. “My mom’s been begging to have Tommy at the farm. And people can stand to wait a week to have their new electrical lines put in. Besides, are you forgetting that time you let me move in with you when I was knocked up and fired?”

I’d never expected repayment for that. It’s what friends did.

But having her along on this trip—pumping me up and assuring me my freakouts were normal—was a nightmare of a year’s silver lining.

It was early afternoon when we approached the iron bridge spanning the Quince River.

The bridge’s ancient bolts and struts were glossy with fresh red paint.

On the other side, the heritage-style brick buildings of downtown Quince Valley lined the waterfront, their hanging floral baskets and arched lettering signage making the place look like something out of a postcard.

“This place is gorgeous!” Ellie said, sounding as awed as I felt.

I knew my instincts about coming here in person were on point.

But it wasn’t until we wound our way up the hill flanking the river, the town stretched out below, that I really felt it: a warmth that settled into my body like an embrace.

That same deep, familiar comfort I was searching for in that dream.

Only this had nothing to do with my ex.

A few minutes later, we were pulling up to The Rolling Hills resort: a massive, if not a little rundown hotel perched on the side of the hill like a jewel. She was tired, but still beautiful. A little lost, but full of hope.

She was a perfect metaphor for my life.

“You know what?” I asked Ellie after I parked. We both looked out at the river below, sparkling in the warm summer sun.

“What?” Ellie asked.

“Maybe if I don’t get this job, I’ll stay here anyway, at least for a little while. I’ll go back to carpentry, get work on a crew, maybe, if I like it, I’ll even start my own business.”

“See?” Ellie said. “Badass.”

We got out of the car, stretching.

Then Ellie slanted me a devious look. “So what should we do first? Scope out this town’s male population? Y’know, for rebound purposes.”

I laughed. I was absolutely not interested in a rebound.

But I did consider it as I grabbed my bag. I was three months out of my divorce. Several years past when anything could be considered fun with Ted.

What if I left the door open just a crack? Just to remember I was once again a free agent?

What if I kept myself open to just a little…magic?

Luckily my stomach growled before I could commit to something entirely unlike me.

I hip checked my friend as we walked to the entrance. “How about we start with lunch?”