Make Mine A Marine. Candace Havens

      She seemed to consider this. “You mentioned you wanted to save some of their possessions for your place. What kind of a place? A cabin?”

      “Nah. Can I show you?” He got out his phone, opened a real estate app and presented her with a photo of the iconic Texas river house he wanted. “It’s called a Texas T. Family room and kitchen in the center with hallways off to other rooms. And I want limestone floors and whatever else makes it fit into the landscape naturally.”

      She flipped through the pictures. “Wow. This is incredible.”

      He wasn’t sure why it pleased him that she liked it so much, but it did. “Here, I’ll show you the view from where I’m hoping the family room will be.” He took the phone and opened a new file of photos and handed it back to her.

      She blinked. “That’s your view? Looking right out on the river? It’s totally incredible. And those cliffs. It looks like something on a postcard.”

      That’s what he’d been thinking. When he was a kid he used to play in the woods around there while his dad and uncle fished in the river. Where the house sat was up on a rise, but there were a hundred acres, most of that on the riverfront. He’d been offered top dollar for it, but it was one of the most quiet, peaceful places on earth, and no way was he giving it up.

      “You said you picked out an architect? Do you have a designer?” Her words came quickly now, her excitement was contagious.

      He smiled.

      “I hadn’t thought about a designer,” he answered. “One of my friends, Brody, is marrying a designer. She looked over the plans for me and told me how to—what did she say?—oh, to maximize the view. I guess I figured I could just ask her. Though, Brody says she’s busier than ever these days.”

      “Or I could do that. Help you, I mean.” She worried her bottom lip. “Sorry, it’s just when I saw what you wanted, and where it’s going to be, I had all these visions in my head. Like you should use river rock for the fireplace. And I’d do limestone in the kitchen, but you have to make sure it’s sealed really good. You might think about using bamboo flooring for the rest, though. It’ll be a little warmer in the winter and it wears really well. If you’re running around barefoot all the time, the limestone might be a bit rough on your feet. And the wood will give the place a homier feel.”

      He’d never thought of that. He did like wood flooring.

      “Or not,” she continued just as quickly. “Like I said, I tend to jump into things pretty fast. That’s why I wasn’t so sure about your offer with the business. It’s been my experience, especially lately, that if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Whether that be business or men.”

      He didn’t blame her. “I get that. So in the spirit of being honest, before we get started you should maybe know that I like things done a certain way, and it’s hard for me to let go of that.”

      “I’m kind of the opposite. If we’re going to do this, you’ll have to trust me to handle the details.”

      A long moment passed before he said, “I guess it won’t hurt to try. I’d be willing to draw up a contract for you to organize, sell and repurpose my parents’ stuff. How do you feel about a sixty-forty split?”

      “If I’m getting the forty, I can roll with that.”

      He’d been thinking the split should go the other way, since she’d be doing a hundred percent of the work. “Okay, if that’s what you want. But it would be fairer if you took the bigger—”

      “I take forty,” she interrupted. “I’d be happier with thirty. Forty seems really high.”

      “Nope. That’s where I draw the line. I’d feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

      She shrugged. “I’m guessing this is how nice people do business.”

      They both laughed.

      “For help with the river house, come up with a flat fee to charge me for your design ideas and dealing with the architect. I know what I like, but getting that across to folks—I’m not always the best communicator.”

      She snorted and then clapped a hand over her mouth. He kind of loved that she did that. “That’s so not true. You’re easy to talk to. Maybe it’s the other people who are doing the bad listening.” She grinned.

      “You might be right. So, good. Oh, and there’s one more thing.”

      The grin disappeared.

      “I know how to build a website. I did one for my mom’s business several years ago.” His friends called him a geek, but he was the go-to guy when computers, phones or anything else broke. He’d always liked tinkering with things, machines in general. He was a pilot, but he was also a fully vetted helicopter mechanic.

      “Now you’re scaring me,” she said. And he could see that he really did. “You’re a little too perfect. Definitely an ax murderer, right?”

      He rolled his eyes. “I’m far from perfect. Just ask anyone who knows me.” On the base he’d been reamed for not playing well with others. But he just liked to keep to himself. Though, he really had been trying to do better. The CO’s team-building events had forced it on him, but they’d also helped him to not be a complete loner, which was probably a plus.

      “Honestly, ax murderer or not, I can’t wait to get started.” Then her face fell again.

      “What?”

      “Nothing. So, I can start tomorrow?”

      “I gotta be on base by nine, but as long as you’re at my parents’ early, I can let you in. Before we head back there now, we can stop and get whatever you might need.”

      That’s when it hit him. He’d helped her with the job situation—but she had nowhere to live.

      And that was one line he wasn’t ready to cross.

4

      CHELLY’S LIFE HAD done a one-eighty into awesome, but she wasn’t sure she could trust the feeling. Everything had been so rotten lately that she spent most of her time waiting for the other shoe to drop. But during her long drive from Tennessee, she’d promised herself that she’d start living in the moment again. Like she used to when she left college. Life had been better then, albeit a little on the gypsy side. She’d traveled the world and found odd jobs to fund the journey. Living in the here and now and taking advantage of opportunities had worked for her back then.

      And maybe it would again. Mr. Marine had offered her an amazing opportunity. One that she would be silly to turn down. And it didn’t come with strings, which was beyond unusual. Matt was off gathering firewood for the pit, in order to roast the magical bag of marshmallows he’d had hidden in that Harley of his.

      This guy. Well, she wasn’t sure what to think. It was so strange that all of this had happened. He was supernice, although she had a feeling he didn’t think of himself as such. But he’d already been so generous. Fixing her truck and taking her to the beach, offering to help her out.

      He was right about his needing her expertise. Estate sale folks and resale shops would charge him huge fees. For the river house, she was determined he’d accept her modest one. She was already stoked about the ideas she had for the place.

      She hadn’t lied. His pictures had sent her mind whirling.

      “Here’s your stick,” he said.

      She glanced up, confused. “I soaked it in the sea a bit so it won’t burn. Might make the marshmallows taste a little salty.”

      She laughed. Right. “People pay a lot of money for sea salt marshmallows and sea salt caramel ones, too.”

      His eyebrows drew together. “That’s a thing?”

      “Sure.”