Chapter 10 #2
A new wood frame was erected over concrete pillars. The bones of a house waiting for the builders to return and make it whole. I climbed out of the truck, retrieving a hard hat from the bed and handing it to Tara.
“Seriously? There’s no one here.”
“Put it on, Tara.”
“I don’t like bossy outside the bedroom, y’know,” she grumbled, pulling the helmet over her hair.
“Get used to it.”
My hand found hers and she jumped, staring openly where our fingers interlaced. I pretended not to notice her surprise, taking her under the house and pointing out various details.
“These bayou adjacent properties don’t have nearly as much value as the ones sitting on the beach, so a lot of outside developers ignore them. What they don’t realize is that with a little extra planning, these properties become a vacation paradise for a fraction of the cost.”
I turned us, drawing her attention to the bayou. I could feel the magic crackling off of it, hear the wind whisper through the Spanish moss. Urging me to come home.
“The sun sets right there, over the trees, and sometimes in the winter when enough of the leaves have fallen, you get the faintest peek of the river. It’s not a sunrise bay view, but it has a certain rustic charm that’s perfect for snowbirds on a budget.
Instead of facing southeast, the porch will be northwest, looking out over a pristine bayou paradise. ”
Tara stared at an especially tall bald cypress, watching the empty branches sway in the wind. I held my breath, waiting for her to mention the way the understory looked like a tangle of weeds. To complain about the mosquitos, which even now on a temperate October day, were whizzing past our ears.
Instead, she smiled, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You are good at this.”
The compliment landed softly. I carried it with me to the next property, letting it inspire my words as I told her each and every detail of the project.
We paused for a late lunch, sitting quietly on the curb by the beach. Our Stop N’ Shop sandwiches were as awful as always, but Tara savored every bite, like it was the first sandwich she’d ever eaten.
I watched her lick mayonnaise off her index finger, following the trail of her tongue with a raging pulse. Work was a decent distraction this morning, but the closer the sun moved to the horizon, the stronger I felt the pull of the moon.
The beast was no longer content to observe. He paced inside me, watching her in agitated impatience. Every one of my senses was heightened, my skin sensitive.
Salt and seaweed and rot filled the air. Tara was a delicate contrast, sweet and bright like fresh ripe fruit. I wanted to taste her.
My time was up. It wasn’t safe to be here anymore, pretending to be like any other man. Basking in her admiration as if there wasn’t a life of violence hiding under this facade.
Storm clouds were gathering on the horizon, blurring the distant view of the island and hiding the rigs out on the water. Electricity crackled in the air, raising the hairs on my arms in warning.
“One more stop before the rain hits,” I found myself saying, hands flexing discreetly as a familiar ache grew in my fingertips.
Tara rose from her perch on the curb, throwing her arms over her head in a tantalizing stretch. I couldn’t resist cupping her hips, squeezing briefly.
“And then what?”
“Then I’ll take you home.”
She studied me for a beat too long, lips forming words that never came.
We made it to my latest development in the Pelican Bay neighborhood when lightning split the air. Tara gasped, jumping back when it was followed by an earth shaking clap of thunder.
The rain came seconds later, pelting us with icy droplets and soaking through our clothes. We ran to the truck, breathless and shivering as we slammed the doors shut.
Tara blinked at the windshield, watching the water pound the glass, and burst into laughter. “I love the storms here.”
“Why?”
“They’re so…wild. You can measure and predict every moment of your day. Set your alarm, take your lunch break, plan dinner at the same time every night, but it’s all an illusion. This idea that we can control any of it, when really we’re just at the mercy of it.”
I started the engine, letting the air warm up. “That seems to be a source of anxiety for most people.”
“Not me.” She grinned. “I love surprises.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, tucking a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “I’ve noticed that.”
“Do you really think I can do it?” She bit her lip, hands fidgeting in her lap. “There’s so much more to real estate than I realized.”
“You’ve got the eye for it,” I answered honestly. “You’ll catch on quickly. And if you pick the right place, selling property is like giving out candy on Halloween.”
“How will I know the right place?”
My hands started to shake. The weight on my chest grew heavier every minute—until I could barely breathe.
I swallowed, almost choking on my next words. “Maybe the right place has already found you.”
The words sat heavy between us.
The tinny music of a cell phone blared from her purse, and Tara cursed. Her lighthearted expression twisted to an irritated glare as she lifted the offending piece of technology from her purse.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered, finger hovering over the green button on her screen.
The screen went black, and I exhaled a shaky breath.
Then it started to ring again.
“Stupid jerk.”
“Is that him? The ex-boyfriend?” My voice was a snarl, too rough to be human. Tara didn’t comment, only turned to hide her embarrassed flush.
“I blocked his number, but he keeps finding new ones to call me from.”
“Give me the phone.”
“W-what? No! You can’t talk to him.”
“Give me the phone, Tara,” I repeated. “I’ll make sure he knows how thoroughly you’ve moved on.”
She did, mumbling, “This is such a bad idea.”
“So you keep saying.” I tapped the green button, holding the phone to my ear and saying, “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that. But it’s time you found a new hobby.”
There was a long pause on the other line, quiet breaths filling the silence. Then that quiet shattered, sending my heart sinking into my stomach as a familiar voice said, “Isaac, what an unpleasant surprise.”
My insides went cold.
“Jacques?”