George Ainsley
510 Luca Street
Nassau, Bahamas
Her fingers shook as she ripped open the envelope. After they’d taken a cruise a few years ago and had discovered Luca Street, her brothers had told way too many lame jokes about how awesome it would be to live on a street with their name. It had to be from them.
Ms. Luca,
Thank you for your interest in renting the home on Luca Street. Unfortunately, it has been occupied by new buyers. They were alerted to the real estate investment opportunity by a mutual friend you share who gave them an early heads-up about how their former circumstances were not tenable. The current owners have no plans at the moment to sell the property but should the situation in your location change, they will reconsider.
Sincerely,
George Ainsley, Esq.
Gina didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. She’d recognize Paul’s ridiculous sense of humor anywhere. He probably thought using the name of their old next-door neighbor and writing in code to let her know they were okay was hilarious. Chuckling despite her frustration that her brothers had gone all cloak-and-dagger on her, she relaxed for the first time in days. And once that weight was off her shoulders, something else landed in its place as she looked down at the newspaper laying on the table.
Ford hadn’t just tried to help. He actually had. He’d gotten her brothers to leave before an Esposito-related drug bust went down. He’d tried to tell her, and she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t give him a chance. Even after he’d broken one of his precious rules for her by giving a heads-up to her brothers. Her lungs tightened, and she crumpled the letter in her hand. After years of not trusting people and building her walls, she hadn’t given Ford the chance that he’d given her. Instead, she’d spent their time together just waiting for him to show his real self. What she hadn’t realized was that he had been doing exactly that the entire time. And her? She’d been too scared to let herself believe what had been there in front of her all along.
But could she ever really trust him?
And that’s when she heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer hitting wood coming from the other side of her front door. Discombobulated, confused, and really pissed off at herself, she yanked open the door and stopped dead.
…
“What in the hell are you doing?” Gina’s question cut across the porch as sharp as the blade on a hockey skate.
Ford didn’t look up. He thought he’d have more time to finish the project. As it was, all he had done was leave the reception and pick-up the specially sourced wood Juan had ordered that matched the original planks. He had one laid out but not secured in place. Of course, he could only last so long without looking at her.
She stood in the doorway. The tip of her nose was red, and the ruby blotch of annoyance at the base of her throat was in full effect. But she was still beautiful in her full-on warrior mode. Really, she was magnificent, and for the first time since he realized he needed to show her that he would always be there for her, he had second thoughts. The woman looked like she might just murder him, and he couldn’t blame her. He stood up, careful to stand in front of the unfinished patch job.
“I had to fix it.” It sounded lame but putting his feelings into words wasn’t his forte.
“My porch?” she asked, suspicion thick in her voice. “You had to fix my porch.”
“I know how much you love this house and I wanted…” The planned speech he’d been practicing in his head about how this house was her heart and how he’d protect it and care for it no matter what fizzled into nothingness. Shit. He was fucking this all up. “No,” he finished, floundering for words. “I want to fix us.”
“Stop right there.” She held up her hand, palm forward. “I need to tell you something.”
That couldn’t happen. She had to hear him out. He took a step toward her, leaving his spot in front of the hole in the porch. “Gina—”
Chin trembling, she walked toward him and stepped just right on the unsecured planks. Her foot slipped, and her eyes went wide with shock. Ford could see it all happening in slow motion. She was going to go through the hole in the porch. He grabbed for her, curling his fingers around her waist and reaching with his other hand for the handrail surrounding the porch, but he missed it by millimeters. Before he could even holler out to warn her to brace herself, they were both waist-deep in the porch, the fronts of their bodies pressed together, his arm still around her waist, and their mouths within kissing distance.