Chapter 1
Chapter One
“ I think you’ll really love it,” Shiloh said with her most winning smile. When the elderly man gave her a stinky look, Shiloh only spread the smile farther.
She didn’t need the husband’s approval. All she needed was to impress the wife and for the husband to want to please his wife.
That was the secret of house hunting. Knowing who to cater to.
“I have some bottled water in a cooler in my car,” she added as they started up the driveway. “Would anyone like anything before we go inside?”
Mrs. Luvvens waved her off. “No, thank you, dear.” She rubbed her hip. “This needs to be our last one today, though.”
“Sounds good.” Shiloh waved toward the house again and kept her pace at the same level as the couple.
An hour later, she walked into her office and immediately took off her high-heeled shoes, sighing when her toes curled into the plush rug under her desk.
“That good, huh?” Melissa, Shiloh’s employee, asked.
Shiloh huffed. “Mrs. Luvvens’ arthritis started acting up, so we only made it through one and a half houses.”
“Not quite as efficient as you prefer,” Melissa said with a grin. “When are you going out again?”
Shiloh picked up her shoes and headed to her desk. “They’re going to call.” She slumped in her chair. “Honestly, I don’t think they should move. They already have a rambler; the house isn’t too big, but I think Mrs. Luvvens has gotten tired of the old, nineteen-seventies decor.”
“So…are you going to recommend a remodel instead of a new house?”
“I already did,” Shiloh said with a shrug. “Mrs. Luvvens wanted to look anyway.”
Melissa nodded. “It’s good of you to be honest about it, though.”
“That’s what friendly real-estate agents do.” Shiloh closed her eyes. Some days, she loved being a boss woman. She was in charge of her schedule…mostly. She enjoyed meeting new people and learning about them, she loved architecture and interior decorating, so she truly was in the perfect career.
But other days, she wished someone else would deal with the ups and downs and sign all the paperwork that was currently waiting on the corner of her desk.
Maybe she needed to take a break. Or to hire another employee?
“Well, just hang in there. It’ll be figured out soon enough.” Melissa went back to her computer, typing away and ignoring Shiloh.
Shiloh sighed, giving herself a couple more seconds before she pulled out her own computer and got back to work. She glanced at the wall clock as she opened the laptop, noting the time.
She had one more showing this afternoon and if she focused now, she could go home after finishing. She had a planning board waiting for her, and Shiloh was a little itchy to start working on it.
Sitting up straight, she got to work. Time was a-wastin’.
By the time she pulled into her driveway, Shiloh was wrung out, despite having success in her last showing. The sweet newlyweds she’d been working with for the last couple weeks were finally ready to put in an offer on a house.
The contract papers were ready to go. Shiloh just needed wifi to send it off, and then she’d spend time tonight going back and forth with the seller’s agent.
Arthur Stevens managed one of the other real estate offices in town, and Shiloh was well versed in dealing with the smarmy divorcee. The fact that his counter-offers always involved a date offer was more than annoying, but at this point, Shiloh had come to expect it.
It was a good thing they didn’t negotiate in person because Shiloh wasn’t sure she could uphold her “friendliest agent in town” persona if she broke Arthur’s nose.
Pulling into her garage, she closed the door, grabbed her briefcase and headed into the house, welcoming the burst of air conditioning on her face. She’d worn her thick, dark hair down today, and Shiloh was seriously regretting it.
Dropping her briefcase on the small dining table, she once again kicked off her heels, this time leaving them behind, and ran up the stairs to her room. The burn in her calves felt good, and Shiloh was grateful to be able to move her toes again.
“If heels didn’t make my legs look so good, I’d never wear them again,” she muttered, heading straight for her bedroom door. She wasn’t going to appear downstairs again until she was in comfortable pants, a too-big t-shirt and her ten pounds of hair was wadded up off her neck.
“Almost done, almost done, almost done,” she muttered as she went back downstairs. Grabbing her computer out of her briefcase, she popped it open, quickly filled in the last couple lines of the contract, and sent it off with a flourish.
Grinning, Shiloh straightened and rubbed her hands together. “Now…how to celebrate.” She tapped her bottom lip. “Ice cream for dinner, it is!”
There was no one in the house to celebrate with her, but that was alright…mostly. Shiloh hated to admit how much she missed Serenity and her soothing presence.
Shiloh really didn’t mind time alone. She almost always had something to do. But after a couple of months of quiet, she was getting antsy.
“Time to pull out the board.” Talking to herself was a new thing. It was the only thing to break up the quiet of the house. That and a little music.
Tapping into her bluetooth, Shiloh put on a dance song mix, then began pulling out housing magazines and her tri-fold whiteboard.
She set it up against the fireplace in her sitting room and plopped herself on the ground in front of it. Next she pulled up the picture of her latest acquisition on her computer.
The cottage was old and looked worse than Mrs. Luvvens fifty-year-old monstrosity.
Shiloh hadn’t flipped anything in a while, and she hadn’t been able to resist this foreclosure. It was old, decrepit, and desperately needed someone with vision and a little time on their hands.
Which fit Shiloh to a tee.
Grabbing her phone, she pulled up a familiar phone number.
“Jett McCoy,” a distinctly male voice responded on the other end of the line.
“Wazzup, Twinnie?” Shiloh said with a grin. “It’s your favorite not-real sister.”
“Hey, Shi,” Jett responded. “What are you up to this fine day?”
“Just wondering if you and your no-good brother are looking for a project.”
Jett grunted. “I need more details than that. Our last project together left me without a thumbnail.”
Shiloh rolled her eyes. “Is it my fault you were mooning over dinner instead of watching where you swung the hammer?” she retorted. “Besides, Tate was already salivating over this one, so I already know your answer.”
Jett sighed. “Tate needs to learn the art of discretion.”
“Tate needs to learn the art of a lot of things,” Shiloh said with a laugh. “Including how to tell a woman he’s in love with her.”
“Yeah, well…that’s a discussion for another day. Whatcha got?”
Shiloh stared at the online picture of her new house. “I’ve got a dumpster fire,” she said bluntly. “But with a little wave of my magic wand, we’re gonna turn it into the cutest little cottage in all of Lighthouse Bay.”
“What do you say, Zane?” Granger reminded his young son.
Zane gave his dad a look, but Granger didn’t move. Huffing, the six-year-old rolled his eyes and looked back at the door they’d just come out of. “Thanks, Miss Tiffany.”
Tiffany bit her lips in an obvious attempt to keep from laughing and nodded. “You’re welcome, Zane. Thanks for spending time with me today.” She winked at Granger. “And thanks to your daddy for coming to pick you up.”
Granger shook his head, ignoring the not so subtle invitation and offered Tiffany an apologetic shrug.
She waved him off with a smile. “They all do it,” she mouthed before stepping back inside to close the door.
Heading toward their truck, Granger frowned. “Hey, bud, what’s with the eye roll? It’s polite to say thank you. And I thought you liked Miss Tiffany.”
Zane shrugged. “She’s fine, I guess.”
“What do you mean, you guess?” Granger pressed. Something was bothering Zane. The boy was usually pretty happy and sometimes a little shy. Acting like a surly teenager was out of character for him. “Hang on.” Granger finished buckling his son in his car-seat, then hurried around to the driver’s side and hopped up, slamming his door. “Okay…now about, Miss Tiffany. Did something happen today?”
Zane looked out the window and kicked his legs. “I don’t know.”
Firing up the truck, Granger’s frown deepened, and he pulled out of the parking lot of the daycare. Someone should have warned him that kids were so hard. When Granger and Ella had gotten pregnant, they’d both been ecstatic. Granger could just imagine having a son who would love everything he loved and would follow Granger around, copying his every move. Ella had imagined something similar with a daughter, and Granger hadn’t been exactly opposed to spoiling a little princess either.
Except none of it had worked out.
Ella had left a couple years ago to “find herself,” after accusing Granger of marrying her too young and keeping her from enjoying life to its fullest.
Granger rarely got the time with Zane that he wanted, and now that he was a single parent, it seemed there was always work to be done instead of time to play or be together.
To top it off, Zane was absolutely nothing like his father.
Where Granger enjoyed being outside and working with his hands, Zane preferred arts and crafts. His whimsical imagination was much more reminiscent of his mother, than of Granger’s down-to-Earth personality.
Which made situations like this particularly difficult.
At the end of the day, Granger simply didn’t understand his son. Sometimes it felt like they were from two different planets.
“Come on, bud…” Granger coaxed. “You know you can tell me anything.” Granger held his breath and bit his tongue to keep from saying more. Sometimes, his best move was to simply wait the little boy out. Zane wasn’t a big talker, but when he had something to say, he usually did so.
They were halfway home before Zane spoke up.
“Is Miss Tiffany gonna be my new mom?”
Granger jolted so hard in his seat that he nearly smashed his foot on the gas pedal. “Excuse me?” he wheezed, trying to get his startled lungs working again. “Can you repeat that?”
“Miss Tiffany,” Zane clarified. “Alex said she was gonna be my new mommy.”
Blowing out a breath, Granger ran a hand through his hair. “Uh…I haven’t heard anything about this.” He tried to smile in the rearview mirror. “And I think I’d know a little more than Alex. Do you know what made him say that?”
Zane shrugged, kicking his legs again. “He said his mom said something.”
“Do you know what?”
Zane shook his head. “No.”
Granger huffed. “Okay, look. In order for anyone to be your mom, I would first date them. After dating, if I really, really liked her?—-”
“Loved her,” Zane supplied.
Granger raised his eyebrows.
“You’re supposed to love my mom.”
Granger nodded slowly. “If I fell in love with her, then and only then, I would ask her to marry me.” Granger swallowed hard. “That’s when she’d become your mother.”
“So you’re not dating Miss Tiffany?”
Granger shook his head. “No. I’m not.”
“Do you want to date her?”
Seriously. Was this kid six or twenty-six? “I hadn’t planned on it, no.”
Zane let his head fall back against the carseat and looked out the window.
“Are you disappointed?” Granger dared to ask. “Do you like Miss Tiffany that much?” Granger sent a little prayer heavenward that his son would say no. She was fine, by all accounts, but Granger had little interest in trying marriage again. Once had been enough, and though it had brought him Zane, which was amazing, it had also nearly broken Granger to start over again.
He wasn’t sure he could handle another round of being manipulated and played according to a woman’s whims.
And even if Granger, by some miracle, did want to try again, Miss Tiffany just wasn’t what he was looking for. She was several years younger than Granger, and she…well…she laughed a little too loud.
Granger scrunched his nose. He knew it was a petty thing to say about a woman, but Tiffany just was bolder in everything. She flirted with him nonstop, she talked loud, she laughed loud, she wore loud colors. She was everything Granger wouldn’t want.
If another woman came into his life, she would be quiet, and easy to get along with. If Granger never dealt with another woman with a strong personality, he’d be a happy man.
Zane kicked the back of the front passenger seat.
“Please don’t kick the chairs,” Granger said.
“No.”
Granger frowned. “No, what?”
“No, I’m not disappointed.”
“Oh. Okay.” Whew. That was good. Really good. “So…what do you want for dinner? Should we grab some stuff out of the garden?”
Zane threw his head back. “Zucchini again? I hate zucchini.”
“Well, zucchini doesn’t hate you,” Granger teased. And the fact that their bush this year was growing ten a day made for cheap eats. Granger would never admit that he was sick of it as well. What was easy on the pocketbook, was good for Granger’s stomach. “In fact…I think it wants to be best friends.”
“That’s dumb.”
Granger chuckled. “Okay…no zucchini tonight. But tomorrow…all bets are off.” His grin widened when Zane groaned. Sometimes being a father was the hardest thing he’d ever done, other times, it was pretty funny. Who knew that embarrassing your own kids could bring so much joy?