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Shit. The other shoe was black.

She had no idea what was happening, but it was terrifying. But she wouldn’t admit how afraid she was to anyone. Especially not Scott.

“Whatever. I was in a rush this morning. The shades aren’t all that different…”

“Whitney! Stop. Just admit you are sick.”

Her lips clamped together, but she nodded slowly.

He brought his seat back to driving position and finally started the car. Then, turning to face her, he said, “I don’t need to know what it is. I’m not going to ask if you need help, because you’re you, and you never need anyone.” He paused. “I’m also not going to say anything to anyone…”



She stopped talking.

“On one condition. You stop trying to block me. Let me do my job—assisting you. You are amazing at your job, now let me be good at mine.”

She sighed. Guess allowing him to do his job wasn’t too much to ask in exchange for his silence. “Okay.”

“Great. Now let’s get you to the office for your fake phone call,” he said with a grin, putting the car in reverse.

As he pushed through the door of Sharrun’s Construction on Main Street, Trent’s head got caught in a wispy spiderweb, and he ducked back as a mechanical spider creeped toward him. “Whoa!”

Miley, Wes’s new receptionist, greeted him with a warm smile. “Sorry about that. I guess we didn’t anticipate seven-foot clients walking through the door,” she teased.

“Ah, it’s fine,” he said. After the night before, he was practically floating. Whitney had actually come to the football practice. She’d been late and missed most of it, but she’d been there and had come along with them for wings. She’d actually followed through with leaving the office, despite how busy she was and she’d apologized for missing his birthday-in more ways than one. Maybe things were turning around, getting better.

And she and Angel had seemed to hit it off, chatting at the end of the table while the team devoured eight pounds of wings.

“Wes in yet?” he asked Miley.

“In his office. Head on in,” she said, fixing the damaged spiderweb and resetting the attacker.

Trent took in the office as he entered farther. The space was the perfect size for his buddy’s business, and he was so happy that the year before, Wes had been able to once again secure the office space needed to grow and expand his construction company. He’d had a rough few years after the death of his wife, raising his daughter on his own, but then reuniting with Sarah had changed all their lives for the better. He was thrilled for his buddy and maybe a little envious of the family Wes had.

He wished he and Whitney could reach that great balance of having careers and a family the way Wes and Sarah had figured it out.

He knocked once on Wes’s open office door and entered. “Morning.”

“Hey, man,” Wes said, standing over several blueprints.

“Those the new cottage designs?” Trent asked, moving closer to peer at the sketches of the new Melendez Cottages rebuilds Wes and his team were working on. Thanks to a new website Wes’s daughter had made for the company, showcasing Wes’s impressive construction skills, Wes had landed the big contract to renovate and rejuvenate the old campgrounds into a more luxury glamping experience.

And by the looks of the designs, he was killing it.

Loft-style cabins with open-beam interiors and floor-to-ceiling windows, stone fireplaces, and Jacuzzi tubs… The old campsite was completely transformed.

“Yeah,” Wes said. “We finished the main house rebuild last month, and the demolition crew is wiping out the old cabin structures this week. The storm along the coast had really done a lot of damage, so we weren’t able to salvage a lot of the original materials, so it’s a complete teardown. We hope to at least have three or four of these ready for the Christmas season.”

“That fast? Really?” That was only two months away.

“Awilda Melendez has already booked them out, so yep,” Wes said with a laugh.

If his friend was stressed about the tight construction timeline, it didn’t show, but now Trent hesitated to ask what he’d come here for.

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