“Mind it I take a look?”
“Knock yourself out.”
He walked around the house, pausing every once in a while to run a finger over a crack or peer into the crawl space. I’d been in this business long enough to know foundation problems were a major red flag for buyers and usually involved a very expensiverepair. But if Mr. Franklin thought he could fix it, I’d be more than happy to listen to his suggestions.
“This here’s not so much a foundation problem as it is a drainage issue.” He stopped by the back door and tapped his thick-soled work boot over the soggy ground. “There’s some minor soil movement. I see this all the time with these older houses. They were built before grading standards came into play.”
“Are you sure? We had it under contract but the inspector made it sound like the whole house might collapse so the buyers pulled out.” I was eager to get this place sold. I’d already invested a ton of time in helping the owner get it ready for sale and staging it. My agreement with the seller was set to expire in just under a month, and I was afraid he was going to try listing with someone else or attempt to sell it himself. Either way, if I didn’t sell it soon, I’d never see a dime for the hours of time I’d spent working with him.
Mr. Franklin chuckled. “If I had a dollar for every inspector who made a buyer run away from a sale I wouldn’t be doing construction.”
“What do you think we need to do ?” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited while dollar signs rang up in my head.
“Honestly, I think we just need to regrade the yard to divert the water away from the house. Installing new gutters wouldn’t hurt, either. Then we can bring in some fill dirt and reinforce a joist or two. All in all, you’re probably looking at about six or seven grand. It’s a hell of a lot cheaper than a foundation repair, and I can have it done next week.” He jotted a few notes down and tucked his pencil back behind his ear. “What do you think about that?”
Six or seven thousand dollars was still a lot of money, but a far cry from the thirty or so thousand my seller was quoted by Levi to fix the foundation issues. I trusted Levi but he had atendency to be a little overly cautious when it came to repairs. “And you’re sure that will satisfy an inspector?”
Mr. Franklin cocked his head and studied me. “I won’t guarantee that it will last forever and that there won’t be a foundation repair needed down the line, but what I’m suggesting isn’t just a temporary fix. It should take care of the issue for quite a while. I’ve got a reputation to protect, you know.”
Though I hadn’t worked with Mr. Franklin before, my dad trusted him. He’d done some work out at the ranch and my parents had been pleased. If he could take care of the issue for a fraction of the price, maybe I could get this house sold before my contract expired.
“Let me talk to the seller and see what he thinks. Are you sure you’ll have enough time to work on this along with the festival set up?”
“You sure are your father’s daughter. I don’t blame you for being concerned, but I’ve been doing this a long time, Miss Winslow.” He flipped his wrist to check the time on his watch. “Speaking of time, I’m running late for another appointment. Let me know what your client decides.”
“I will. Thank you for stopping by.” I followed him around to the front of the house and stood on the porch while he got into his truck and drove away. Maybe his idea would work. Something had to give if I wanted to get this house sold.
After sitting in the kitchen for another hour with only one curious neighbor coming through, I pulled the open house sign out of the yard and tossed it in my trunk. I wasn’t looking forward to spending my Saturday night working on more festival plans, but it’s not like I had a more attractive option. With most of my friends out with their significant others, I was tired of being the third wheel.
I drove through town, trying to figure out what I could make for dinner with the meager contents of my refrigerator. As Ipassed the sign for the café, my stomach growled and I pulled over to the curb. A Cobb salad or a half a sandwich and a cup of soup sounded a whole lot better than whatever I had waiting at home.
I’d just gotten out of the car when I happened to glance across the street. Huck Barrett was crouched down at the base of the railing leading up the steps to the Mercantile. He was wearing a backward baseball cap over his thick brown hair and a toolbelt slung around his wait. Well-worn jeans stretched tight across muscular thighs as he balanced in place, drill in hand.
I stumbled over the curb, almost landing flat on my ass. With my keys clutched tightly in my hand, I accidentally hit the alarm button on the fob and my car’s horn started blaring. My chest seized, my cheeks burned, and I ducked down as I tried to silence the alarm. Nothing like drawing attention to myself while drooling over my ex.
Squatting between cars, I waddled to the rear bumper to see if he’d noticed me. His drill sat on the sidewalk but Huck was nowhere in sight. I sucked in a deep breath of relief.
“Everything okay over here?” His deep voice came from behind me.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a long beat, trying to think of a believable explanation as I turned around. He stood before me, all six-foot-plus of him in a snug fitting t-shirt and those jeans that molded to his thighs. “Um, yeah. I just dropped my keys and bent down to find them.”
“Can I help you up?” Huck reached out. Dark swirls of ink covered his forearm. That was new. He’d only had one tattoo back in high school. I’d dared him to get it the day he turned eighteen. For half a heartbeat, I wondered if he still had it or if he’d covered it up with something else.
Swallowing hard, I slid my hand into his. Warmth radiated up my arm, flushing my cheeks and making me wish I had aglass of something ice-cold in my hand that might be able to douse the fire rolling through my veins.
I pulled my hand out of his grip as soon as I got to my feet. Being around him knocked me off balance, and I struggled to regain my composure. “Um, thanks.”
Jaw clenched, his gaze locked on mine. “Take care of yourself, Peyton.”
Then he crossed the street, not bothering to look back.
CHAPTER 3
HUCK
I hadn’t beenable to sleep last night after running into Peyton. She’d looked up at me, her eyes wide with shock, her pretty pink lips parted in surprise, and for a split second it was like we were right back in high school. There used to be a time when I could have offered her my hand and she would have snuggled into my arms like she belonged there.
Those days were gone.
