“I’m not saying we won’t look into it,” the contractor replied. “But you cover that with fresh drywall, touch up the paint, and it’s good as new. Most guests won’t notice.”
“I’d notice!” Ruby fired back.
I stepped forward and said evenly, “Drywall won’t fix a structural failure.”
Ruby turned at the sound of my voice, her expression flickering just long enough to give her away before she schooled it.
“Sebastian Sawyer,” she said, opening her hands in the universal sign for what-the-fuck. “I thought you weren’t expected until tomorrow.”
“I got in early.” I then turned to the contractor and nodded toward the roof. “Just looking at this, I’d say the ceiling’s starting to sag. The foundation might be shifting. So you’re looking at compromised load paths. Covering it up buys you time, until someone gets hurt.”
The contractor looked between us warily. “I was just trying to offer her a cost-effective—”
“She wants a safe building, and she’s right to push back.” I looked at Ruby then. “You just need someone who knows what they’re looking at.”
“Who are you exactly?” the guy asked, red-faced.
“Her structural engineer.” I extended my hand for him to shake.
He ignored it.
“She’ll call you when she needs pretty colors,” I added with a smile.
The guy muttered something under his breath and stalked off toward his pickup.
I shifted my gaze back to Ruby. She didn’t look nearly as pleased as I thought she’d look.
“Well, that was testosterone well spent,” she said, brushing invisible dust off the front of her jacket. “But ... thanks. I guess.”
3
Ruby
“YOU’RE WELCOME.”
I lifted my eyes to the brown-eyed, smirking six-foot-something of maddening self-control and, apparently, unexpected timing.
In a navy blue T-shirt, jeans that fit just right, the cool and calm engineer he was now looked wholly unbothered, like he hadn’t just stepped off a flight from Houston.
And just like that, my pulse spiked.
I’d been expecting—no,bracing—for the usual Sebastian tomorrow. The one who always came into my space like gravity itself had pulled him there. Who kissed first, spoke second, and made me forget all the reasons I didn’t want anything beyond our arrangement.
But this version of him was now scanning the inn like he was already calculating loads, angles, and stress fractures, or other engineering gibberish I’d heard him speak of over the years.
No grab, no kiss. Just a quiet assessment and a nod toward the corner of the roof, like he’d just X-rayed the problem.
And dammit, somehow that did something to me even more than usual.
“It doesn’t look good.” He shook his head, then looked at me. “How are you?”
“Not great.” I looked away. “This place survived forty years of salty air and foggy nights, but one freak storm and a clogged gutter, and the roof decided it was done holding up its end of the deal.”
I waved to Sandra, who peeked out the front door of the main house. “I have to decide how to handle this. Do I close entirely for the Fall season? Do I let my staff go?” Tears stung the corners of my eyes. I wasn’t a crier; the only thing that could drive me to tears was this place closing down.
“I’ll help.”
I brought my gaze back to him. The afternoon sun was hiding behind a cloud, and I didn’t have to squint. “It’s not a space shuttle. It’s a building. Buildings. Plural, because two family-size cabins need pretty extensive work, too.” I sighed.
