An Ounce of Hope(25)

Grace's smile widened. It was true. The building was starting to look like a real, honest-to-God house. Floors were finished, as were the stairs, porch, and walls. Next week was all about the windows and Grace could barely contain her excitement.

"I can't tell you how amazed I am at Vince's work," she replied. "His team is incredible and-"

"Did I hear my name?" Vince Masen, owner of Masen Construction and Masen's Boardinghouse, smirked as he strode toward the bar. He was followed through the entrance by a group of six men whom Grace recognized as workers on the house. She'd seen them all before. Except one. "I hope you're sayin' nice things, Mrs. Brooks," he drawled. "We've just finished up a twelve-hour day on your property."

Grace blushed. "It's Ms., or Grace, and of course I was. I was just telling the deputy here that your work and your team's work has been nothing short of extraordinary. I'm more than grateful."

Vincent Masen was a stocky man with a broad chest that spoke of years of labor and a head of salt-and-pepper hair that made him look distinguished. She guessed him to be in his midfifties but, from what she'd seen since his construction company had begun work on the house, he had the tenacity and the energy of a much younger man. He tilted his chin under her compliment and raised the glass of beer Grace paid for in thanks.

The rest of the guys bought a beer each and ordered food, all except the new face, who stayed at the back of the group, tall, silent, and watching Grace with intense brown eyes that were framed with thick lashes. His irises were so dark they appeared endless in their intensity, like two huge Hershey's Kisses filled with untold secrets. The hair on his head was almost black in the dim light of the bar; it was short at the sides, but long and wild on top, with bits that stuck up as though caught by surprise. His face was hard around the edges and shadowed with stubble that looked a few days old. From the lines around his eyes and mouth, he was either a lot older than Grace imagined, or he'd had a tough life. Either way, his face was not entirely displeasing to look at. Rather like a disheveled Colin Farrell, Grace mused.

Grace tried to smile at him, but he looked away quickly, thanking Vince for the orange juice he handed to him. They made their way across the bar, parked it near the pool table, and set about talking. His shoulders rounded as he sat on his stool, as though trying to make himself smaller while the men around him laughed and chatted.

"Somethin' caught your eye there, honey?"

Holly's voice startled Grace. She was immediately horrified to realize she'd been staring. "No, um, not really. I was just wondering who the new guy was on Vince's team. I haven't seen him at the house."

Holly looked across the bar, narrowing her blue eyes as though it would help her identify the newbie quicker. She shrugged and continued placing the glasses on the correct shelves. "No idea. But it's about time we had something new, male, and pretty to look at around here. Am I right?"

Grace giggled into her hand. The newcomer was certainly easy on the eyes, which undoubtedly surprised her. It had been a long time since she'd felt any flutter of attraction toward the opposite sex, due to the hurt that her past flirtations and intimacies had brought her. Her track record with making sound decisions where men were concerned was not stellar, and with everything that had happened in the past two years, her fear was always enough to help her politely steer clear of any man who showed her even an ounce of attention. Not that this guy had; he hadn't even smiled back.




 

 

Caleb turned back to face the bar with a furrow in his brow. "That's Vince's nephew," he added to the conversation. "Didn't catch his name. Flew in from New York a few days ago. He's staying at the boardinghouse here in Preston County." Caleb was silent a beat. "I'd keep a distance, ladies. From what I hear he's had problems, been in prison, involved in some pretty bad shit up there. Drugs and the like. Apparently, he's here to 'clean up.' "

The deputy used his fingers as he spoke to punctuate his meaning and Grace's heart skipped in her chest.

Well, of course, the newbie had a dubious past. What other douches was she attracted to other than those who'd been paroled at least once in their lives and/or were involved in illegal substances? Jesus, she was a magnet for that type of crap. It followed her everywhere. Dammit. She silently cursed her gut, which was evidently not working on all cylinders.

"Okay, then." She huffed out a humorless breath of laughter and picked up a towel to wipe down the bar, counting down the last few hours of her shift and keeping her curious gaze away from Vince's pretty nephew and his intriguing eyes.

Max's decision to leave Carter's beach house and fly to Preston County, West Virginia, was, after almost a week, turning out to be a good one. And thank fuck for that. He could already feel the tight ropes of anxiety loosening as he ran through the dense forests behind his uncle's boardinghouse, and not seeing the faces of his past every day eased the tension he'd been carrying like a bag of bricks. Although he felt immeasurably guilty for leaving, his ability to breathe a little easier made it worthwhile.