Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
J enna peered out the window, her breath catching slightly as the rumble of a truck pulling up the driveway reached her ears. She took in the details of his older vehicle, a well-used pickup in a sapphire blue color. Carlisle Construction was emblazoned on the truck doors.
The driver’s side door opened and Nash stepped out, his broad shoulders filling out his well-worn t-shirt. Jenna’s gaze lingered perhaps a moment too long before she blinked and pulled herself together. She smoothed her hands down the front of her t-shirt, noticing a streak of dirt along the hem from her attempts at cleaning the windows. She made her way to the front door and opened it. Her breath caught slightly as Nash’s warm smile crinkled the corners of his eyes just like it had this morning.
“Afternoon, ma’am… Jenna.” His rich voice washed over her. “Let’s see what kind of work we have in store.”
She stepped back, allowing him to enter, and the scent of freshly cut wood and fresh ocean air wafted in with him. His tanned, muscular arm grazed her own as he brushed past.
Jenna watched Nash’s eyes scan the space, taking in the dated decor and the areas in need of repair. She felt a pang of self-consciousness, but his expression remained neutral. He glanced into the kitchen and turned back to her.
“Well, this place has good bones,” he commented, his gaze lingering on the exposed beams overhead. “Solid construction. They don’t build them like this anymore.”
Jenna nodded, feeling a flicker of pride in her new home despite its current state. “It’s about one hundred years old, though there have been some renovations and updates. Not sure what else. I fell in love with the character of it. The history.”
Nash turned to her, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can see why. It’s got a lot of potential.” He gestured to the living room. “We could open up this space, maybe knock out that wall to let in more light. And the kitchen could use some updating, but we can work with the layout.”
“I don’t mind the kitchen. I kind of like it. Love the old stove and the big sink. But I do like the idea of taking out that wall between this main room and the kitchen. Make it all one large great room. That works for me. And that should lighten both spaces.”
“Okay, we’ll keep the kitchen as is.” He jotted a note on a small notepad, then carefully poked around the cottage and went out to the deck, nodding occasionally as he made his notes. Nash was a nodder, that was for sure. She followed him from room to room.
“Afraid some of the plumbing needs some work. And some of the electrical. Want to check out your roof, too.”
“The inspector who checked out the house before I bought it said the roof was about ten years old.”
“Ah, probably had to replace when that hurricane came through here about then.”
As Nash continued to share his insights and suggestions, Jenna found herself relaxing, drawn in by his enthusiasm and expertise. He seemed to see beyond the peeling paint and worn floors to the heart of the cottage, to what it could become. As they continued the tour, discussing ideas for the renovation, Jenna was surprised by how at ease she felt in his presence. He had a calming energy about him, a steadiness that put her nerves to rest.
“I think the first step is to address any structural issues,” he said as he flipped through his notes. “Then we can move on to the cosmetic stuff.”
She nodded, wondering about the cost of such repairs. She knew the renovation would be a significant investment—more than she’d planned on—but she was determined to see it through.
They returned to the main room. Nash turned to her. “So, what made you decide to buy this place? It does need some work, but the view is spectacular.”
“I, um, I needed a fresh start,” Jenna admitted. “I had to… get away from my old life. Start again. I’d come to the island as a young girl, and this place just… called to me, you know?”
Nash’s eyes softened, his expression one of understanding. “Everyone’s got a past, Jenna,” he said gently, holding her gaze. There was not a hint of judgment in his tone, only a gentle reassurance. “What matters is what you do from here on out.”
Something inside of her unclenched at his words, a tightness she hadn’t even known she was carrying. “I hope you’re right. I’m hoping this place will help me… find some peace.”
The words hung in the air between them, more candid than she’d intended. But there was something about Nash that put her at ease, an innate trustworthiness that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
He nodded yet again, his expression open and compassionate. “We all need a little peace sometimes,” he said simply. “This town, this island… it has a way of providing that if you let it.”
She relaxed even more at his words and encouragement. She could almost imagine what it would be like to let the gentle rhythm of island life soothe her. “I hope so.” Her gaze drifted back to him. There was a steadiness about him, a strength she felt herself drawn to. A solidness in the midst of her own personal storm.
She pulled her gaze from him and cleared her throat. “I appreciate you taking the time to come out here. I know I’m new in town, and you must be busy with other projects.”
Nash waved off her concern with a smile. “Happy to help. We take care of our own here on the island. And now you’re one of us.” He paused, his expression turning more serious. “I know it can be tough, starting over in a new place. But you’ll find folks here are quick to lend a hand.”
A rush of gratitude flowed through her at his words and the kindness in his eyes. Maybe moving to Magnolia Key wasn’t such a crazy idea after all. She walked him to the door and watched as he climbed back into his truck. With a wave, he pulled out of the drive. Maybe, just maybe, she’d found more than a new home in Magnolia Key. Maybe she’d found a place to belong.
Nash pulled away from Jenna’s cottage, the truck tires crunching on the shell driveway. He glanced in the rearview mirror and could already envision the transformation that a few fresh coats of paint would bring to the weathered structure, turning it into a warm and inviting home.
This woman intrigued him. She had appeared out of nowhere and purchased the old Weston place—now that the heirs had quit their squabbling and agreed to sell it before it crumbled into a place unable to be made habitable. He had to admit it had chafed him to drive by the cottage for all these years and see how the family had neglected it, allowing its once charming appearance to fall into disrepair. But now it looked like the cottage was getting a new chance. It would have someone living in it who appreciated it.
He smiled at his thoughts, knowing it was a bit strange to believe that buildings had feelings and a unique character, but to him, they did. Just a result of growing up and learning the construction trade from his father. His dad always said that each home has a heart of its own.
He sighed as he rolled to a stop at the one intersection in town with stop signs. Not that it really needed it. Never enough traffic to justify it. But a mayor a few years back had insisted Magnolia needed them. But the stop sign still annoyed him.
He continued on to his house but couldn’t get thoughts of Jenna out of his mind. It was a bit odd that she’d just up and moved to the island though. Most folks around Magnolia Key had roots going back generations with their histories intertwined like the branches on the old live oak tree in the town square. He remembered the stories his grandfather would tell about the island’s founding families, their struggles and triumphs, all woven into the very fabric of the town.
It was rare for a total stranger to come to the island and settle down. But then, Tori Duran had moved here a while back and reopened the theater—but she’d been to the island often with her grandmother when she was a girl, and that’s what made her choose to come live here. Although Jenna had said the same thing. She’d come here as a child. Seemed like Magnolia Key did have a way of calling people back.
Well, he’d never even left the island. Lived here his whole life. Took over the construction company from his father, who had taken it over from his grandfather. Three generations of Carlisle Construction.
Unbidden, his thoughts popped right back to Jenna. He couldn’t quite figure her out. She said she wanted to do as much work as she could herself. He got that. Repairs could get expensive. But she looked at the cottage with a gaze that said she knew it could be turned into something wonderful.
Still, there had been a slightly wistful air about her, maybe even a hint of melancholy, and the distinct feeling she was hiding something or running away from something. She hadn’t elaborated on why she’d come here or why she needed peace so desperately.
He felt a protective instinct flare up deep inside. There was something about her that intrigued him. An underlying strength that captivated him. And although he’d just met her, he found himself wanting to find a way to chase away that haunted look from her chestnut-brown eyes. To see her relax, see her laugh.
Her project, her desire to restore the rundown home, spoke to him on a deeper level. Maybe because it was more than just fixing a broken-down cottage. Jenna seemed intent on not only rebuilding the cottage but rebuilding her own life.
And he had the ability to help her with that. Help her shed whatever turmoil she’d left behind to come here to Magnolia Key to start over.
He was crazy busy with construction work right now, but somehow he’d find a way to fit her into the schedule. He vowed to give her the best deal possible on the repairs so she wouldn’t have to live in construction chaos for long. And if he personally helped with the repairs? Well, that would just give him a chance to get to know her better.