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Carly pasted on a smile, forcing herself to ditch the pity party. “We did get a nice review in theTravel Timeson Monday. I guess a local travel guide is a good place to start.” In truth, she was learning a ton from running a kitchen solo, and it was good experience while the gossip mongers on the New York restaurant circuit grew tired of churning out her tarnished name. “Anyway, the food is what matters most. The kitchen here is on the upswing, and it’s only getting better.”
“That’s the spirit!” A loud burst of thunder took the edge off Sloane’s grin, and Carly went right into distraction mode.
“So how are your pages coming along?” Steam curled from the teakettle in thick tendrils, wrapping around Carly’s fingers as she poured hot water into each oversized mug.
“Not bad, actually. My editor loved the outline. She said it’s shaping up to be my sexiest book yet,” Sloane said, waggling her eyebrows.
“Well, it’s a good thing you write romance novels. I don’t think I’d know sexy if it fell into my lap.”
“Oh, that’s a load of crap. Those clogs don’t fool me, Chef. There’s a dirty girl under those dirty chef’s whites. You just have to find the right man to share her with, that’s all.”
“Sloane!” Carly laughed in a quick burst. “Don’t be ridiculous. Men are way more trouble than they’re worth, both for me and my career. And trouble is something I am definitely not interested in.”
“Jaded, party of one, your table is now available.” Sloane’s laughter softened under the warm glow of the kitchen lights. “Come on, Carly. Not all men are scheming douchebags like Travis.”
Carly shrugged, unconvinced. “Let’s get realistic here. Any man who’s not in my field probably isn’t going to understand the weird hours and backbreaking work. And any man who is, is competition. The odds of me finding Mr. Right somewhere in the middle don’t look too good. And I’m definitely not risking my career over a man. Ever again.”
“Well, yeah, but maybe—”
A hard shot of wind rattled the windowpanes, loud enough to cut Sloane off.
“Wow.” Carly narrowed her eyes on the sliding glass door connecting the living room to the deck on the back of the house. “That wind is really nasty.”
“I thought you said it was just a teensy little storm,” Sloane protested, knuckles blanching over the handle of her mug.
“It is.” Carly shrugged, then let out a small laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“Storms like this are only the basis for, like,everyterrifying story in the universe. Hell yes, I’m scared!” Lightning forked in jagged, steely lines, illuminating the yard beyond the sliding glass door in a blue-gray glow, and Sloane flinched before looking at Carly. “Doesn’tanythingfreak you out?”
Carly’s smile escaped despite her best efforts to spare her friend’s pride. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” She walked to the door and put her palm to the glass. “See? It’s just a—”
A gust of wind smashed into the side of the house, gluing Carly’s unfinished sentence to her throat. The floorboards vibrated under her feet, and her eyes flared at the staccato snap of breaking wood followed by the surreal groan of moving earth.
Before Carly could release the scream gathering in her chest, one of the tall, proud oak trees lining the property came crashing toward the house.
* * *
Somewhere amid thejangly throng of eight-penny nails in his tool belt, Jackson Carter’s cell phone was making one hell of a racket. He slid his hammer into the fraying loop on his hip and palmed his phone, grinning at the caller ID.
“Hey, Luke. What’s doing?” Jackson wiped his brow with a bare forearm. Man, this weather was a far cry from the storm they’d had a couple days ago. Although considering June was half over, it was really about time for some heat.
“You tell me. How’s Mrs. Teasdale’s fence coming?” his boss replied.
Jackson took a step back to double-check his work, inhaling the crisp scent of the pine boards he’d been hammering into place for the better part of two days. “Your timing is perfect, actually. I just finished the build. All it needs is stain and seal coat, and it’ll be good to go.”
“I’m going to send Micah out there to finish it. I need you on another job, and it looks like a doozy.” The unspoken apology hung in Luke’s voice, and Jackson fought the urge to groan.
“Why does that sound like a disaster right off the bat?”
“Because it probably is. I just got a call from old man Logan about that bungalow we renovated a few years back. You remember the one, off Rural Route Four?”
Jackson had lived in Pine Mountain since the beginning of his double-digit days, plus he’d done local contracting work for Luke for nearly a decade. If Jackson didn’t know every property in Pine Mountain by now, especially the ones they’d done work on, then shame on him.
“Those kitchen countertops were a pain in the ass to install. How could I forget?” Jeremiah Logan had hired Luke, and therefore Jackson, to renovate the bungalow a few years back. They’d busted their asses to give it the look of a rustic cabin on the outside while offering luxurious amenities on the inside. Old Man Logan had been renting it as an Airbnb to tourists during the ski season, but now that it was the offseason, the place was probably sitting unoccupied.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Luke said. “Think you can head over there?”
Jackson walked the length of freshly built fence to make sure he hadn’t missed anything before doubling back to the front of Mrs. Teasdale’s aging cottage. “Sure. You want to let me know what I’m in for?”
