She paused and stared at Antonio for a brief moment, her guilt rising all over again. Yes, she’d sent him a letter ending their relationship during their first year of college, and yes, she regretted not taking his calls to explain how insecure she’d been feeling after he started missing their weekly calls. Her gaze went to Mr. Davenport, who divided a wary glance between them and shook his head. She could only imagine what he thought. Emotions rising, Natasha said nothing as she rushed out the door. In their small town, one would think it difficult not to run into each other, but Antonio had made sure it never happened. He’d also never stayed around more than a couple of days those few times he returned, except when he’d helped build his grandmother’s cottage. She only hoped this time would be the same. Natasha couldn’t take seeing him and knowing he still hated her after all these years.
CHAPTER 2
Antonio Hayes had expected to run into Natasha at some point now that he’d decided to return home, but not less than twenty-four hours after his arrival. The skinny, beautiful girl he’d fallen in love with as a teenager had morphed into an even more gorgeous woman, with enough curves to keep a man busy for days. But the only thing he’d be busy doing was staying as far away from her as possible. Not an easy feat, seeing as how they lived in a small town.
“You all right, son?”
He turned back to his godfather, whose intense and knowing gaze almost made Antonio squirm. “Yeah, I’m good, Uncle Charles.”
“Well, come on back, and you can fill me in on why you really came home.”
Shaking his head, Antonio chuckled and did just that. On the way, he noted that not much had changed in the place since the last time he’d been there a few years ago. “I see everything’s the same.”
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Charles said, dropping down heavily in his chair.
“How’ve you been doing? Dad told me about your blood pressure being up.” Antonio studied the man who’d been a second father to him and taught him everything he knew about construction. Aside from gaining a few pounds, adding some gray strands in his hair, and having a line or two bracketing his light-brown face, he looked okay.
He waved him off. “I’m fine. Doctor put me on some meds and told me I need to keep the stress down.”
“And are you?”
“As much as I can. I’m not pulling those twelve- and fourteen-hour days anymore.”
“Good. You need to learn to delegate more.”
Uncle Charles grunted. “I delegate just fine. What I really need to do is retire so I can sit on my deck or go fishing more often with your father.”
Antonio smiled. “He did mention enjoying retirement.” His father and Uncle Charles had a friendship that spanned more than fifty years. Too bad Antonio couldn’t claim the same. Most of the guys he’d hung out with in school had moved away, and he could count the number of them he’d kept in close contact with on one hand and still have fingers left over. His older brother, Nathaniel, was Antonio’s confidant.
“I knew I should’ve listened and retired when he did last year.”
Laughing, he said, “Dad was more than happy to turn the optometry practice over to Nate. So, when are you planning to retire?”
“Soon, hopefully. What are your plans now that you’re back? And are you staying this time?”
“Not sure yet, and yes, I’m staying.” He’d contemplated moving back several years ago, but knowing Natasha had returned home instead of staying in Los Angeles, as she’d dreamed, he had changed his mind. “To answer the rest of your question, I’d planned to relax for a few weeks before deciding my next steps.” As an investment manager in a top New York firm for the past decade, he’d amassed a nice financial portfolio, which afforded him the opportunity to take some much-needed time off. While there, he’d rarely taken vacations and often worked fifty or sixty hours a week. Now, at age thirty-four, with a failed marriage, he wanted—noneeded—a change. Antonio had been close to burnout and missed his family—he especially wanted to be near his ailing grandfather and watch his niece grow up. He just had no idea what that looked like at the moment. “I thought about starting my own investment firm, but I’m not sure that’s something I really want to do. I could always help you out with a few projects,” he added with a grin.
Uncle Charles nodded. “Good. Then I might be able to retire sooner than later.”
Antonio’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What does my returning home and helping you with a few things have to do with you retiring?”
He leaned forward and clasped his hands on the desk. “I’m sixty-one years old, and I’m tired. My boys have no interest in taking over the business, and after pouring my life into this company, I don’t want to see it go under. Besides, it’s the only construction company in town, and there’s no way I want to see some big corporation come in and take over and change what we’ve got here in Firefly Lake.”
Antonio nodded. He understood his godfather’s viewpoint. There had been several instances when some big company tried to push for a major expansion of homes to “bring more people in,” as they put it. However, their tight-knit community shut them down every time. While they were good with some growth and had technology to rival big cities, the town’s residents enjoyed having no traffic, being able to easily access what they needed, and Antonio’s least favorite part, knowing everyone’s business. He leaned back and folded his arms. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m hoping you’ll agree to take over.”
He jerked upright. “Wait. What?” His heart pounded, and he shook his head. Surely he hadn’t heard correctly.
“You heard me. I want to transfer the business to you.”
Antonio lifted a hand. “Why me? Unc, I haven’t worked in construction since I left. I’ve been in finance since I graduated.”
A grin kicked up in the corner of Charles’s mouth. “Maybe not, but I know about you volunteering with Habitat for Humanity. Didn’t you just say you’d help me out? And why not you? It’s your dual engineering and business degrees from Syracuse that make you the perfect choice.”
Antonio fell back against the chair, stunned. Sure, he’d once dreamed of owning his own construction business, but things were different back then. Then, it was supposed to be him and Natasha—he’d build the houses and she’d use her interior design degree to decorate them. Since their relationship imploded, he had shoved the fantasy into the deep recesses of his mind and locked the door.
“I love you as if you were my own son, and I know you’d do me proud.”
