Home > Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1)(45)

Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1)(45)
Author: Miranda Liasson

Cam stifled a groan.

“Wait a minute,” Hadley said. “That’s just two weeks away.” The big themed outdoor party took place the third weekend in July and was the town’s largest fundraiser.

“Correct,” Gran said. “And if a world-class PR expert and a world-famous ex-football player can’t pull this off, no one can. The goal is to bring in gobs of money to build the new regional pediatric outpatient center, so kids don’t have to drive an hour and a half with their frazzled parents to see specialists at the children’s hospital. Most everything’s been done, thanks to Margie. You just have to make sure it goes off without a hitch. This will show everyone you both truly have the best interests of Seashell Harbor in mind. And then the town can decide which idea they’re most inclined toward.”

One glance at Hadley showed that she looked about as happy as he did.

He did not want to spend more time with her. Work with her. Be in the same room with her. Just when he needed to focus on sealing the deal. He couldn’t allow his unruly feelings to ruin his opportunity to build a future here.

 

 

Chapter 18

 

Where the heck are those keys?” Nick asked a few days later as he groped around the dashboard of the Cammareri van, patted his pants pockets, and felt above the visor, all to no avail.

Cam reached into the cup holder, grabbed the keys his brother had clearly overlooked, and dangled them in front of his face.

“I knew that,” Nick said, snatching the keys and starting the truck. But finding the keys didn’t lift his mood. He kept smoothing down his hair and tapping his fingers on the wheel. Cam understood his normally laid-back brother was definitely not laid-back about the thought of fixing his ex’s rotted screened porch ceiling.

“So why are we doing this again?” Cam asked. “I thought your goal was to avoid Darla at all costs.”

Nick sighed and fidgeted his fingers on the wheel. “She only acts like she’s tough. I mean, she is really strong, because she got through the cancer and everything, but all that toughness is a front.”

Cam held up his hands. “I was just wondering how we happened to be doing a job on her beach house when you two are barely speaking, that’s all.”

“I hate to break this to you, but this is what I do for a living,” Nick said.

“I get that, bruh,” Cam said. “But when was the last time you touched a house under a hundred years old?”

Busted. Nick’s glance was wrought with conflict. “I ran into her at the festival and told her we were the best ones to do the job, and she agreed. That was all.”

“Oh, okay,” Cam said, unable to resist baiting his brother. “This has nothing to do with being curious about where she lives?”

“Of course not,” Nick said. “I’m an old house person. I hate those clunky-looking contemporaries. You know that.”

Yeah, Cam knew all right. Knew his brother was nervous. More nervous, in fact, than he’d seen him since his divorce. Except maybe for when Darla was going through chemo and Nick had been frantic to help in any way he could. “So you don’t want to get back together with her?”

His brother stared at him like he was deranged. “No, of course not. Never.”

“Okay,” Cam said, ready to let it rest.

But Nick, apparently, wasn’t. “I’m dating someone, remember? Lauren’s really nice.”

Lauren was really nice. And smart. And cute too. Nick usually went for women who didn’t have potential for real, lasting connection. But then, Nick had made it a point not to do relationships at all in the eight years he’d been divorced. “How did you ever meet a librarian?”

“I’m getting my MBA, remember?” His tone was a little edgy. “She helped me with some of the online stuff I was having trouble with.”

“That’s great,” Cam said. “I’m glad you’re dating again. Does Dad like her?”

“I haven’t brought her home yet.”

Cam let the subject die, but Nick had been dating this woman for four months and never brought her home to meet their father? That was…unusual.

Nick parked in Darla’s driveway and they got out of the van, Nick lugging a ladder and Cam bringing a reciprocating saw to cut through any rotted wood. “She said to just walk around,” Nick said, gesturing to a small path.

As they circled the sprawling contemporary, they caught sight of Darla lying out on a lounge chair on her expansive ocean-front deck. Apparently asleep, with earbuds in her ears and a book lying on the ground next to her chair.

Nick halted so fast Cam nearly ran into him with the saw. Before Cam could say Hey, watch it, Nick was making a beeline straight to Darla. He walked up to her chair and picked up her fallen book from the ground.

“Hey,” he said quietly. Her eyes flew open and she scrambled to sit up. “Nick!” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“You always did fall asleep reading,” he said, offering her the book. If Cam hadn’t already realized his brother was in trouble, Nick’s dopey half-smile immediately gave it away. “Hope you put sunscreen on.” She was wearing a bikini top and jean shorts, and to Cam’s amusement, his brother appeared to be checking-her-out-but-not-really-checking-her-out.

She laughed and cranked her sunglasses up to the top of her head. “I’m not an idiot like I used to be. I try to take care of myself now.” She turned and saw Cam. “Hey, Cam.”

He nodded and said hi, eyeballing her amazing panoramic view. It was a heck of a home. Good for Darla.

“You’ve got quite a front yard,” Nick said, gesturing at the royal-blue ocean glittering before them in the sun. “You living here by yourself?”

She smiled. “Yes. Just me.”

“Do you have an alarm? Maybe you should get a dog. Like a German shepherd. Or a Doberman. Or maybe an Akita.” Nick’s brain seemed to be on power saver mode as he turned to Cam. “Maybe Hadley can set her up with one.”

“I’m good, Nick,” she said softly.

Cam tried to stanch the bleeding. “We’re…um…here to take care of your roof.” He pointed to the adjoining screened porch. “Okay to go in?” He made his way over there, not failing to give his brother a get it together look.

“Oh, yes, for sure. Let me show you the problem.” Darla got up and led them into the porch, where she pointed to a stained circle of water damage involving two corners of the ceiling. The damp smell of decaying wood confirmed the problem.

“The roofing company fixed the main issue,” Darla said. “Are you guys sure you want to look at it?” She directed her question mostly to Nick, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. “I know newer houses aren’t your specialty.”

“We’re the best,” he said, pride in his voice, “and we’ll do it right without charging you an arm and a leg.”

“Okay. Well, I’ve got a conference call with my editor in a bit.” She started walking down the hall and gestured with her thumb. “I’ll be in my office if you two need anything.”

“Sounds good,” Cam said.

He must’ve given his brother an incredulous look without meaning to because Nick said, “What? I had to at least offer to fix it. She was going to call Cunningham’s.” He appeared to shudder at the mention of their biggest competitor. “What else could I do?”

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