The tallest man in the group handed a sander to the guy on the ladder. “In the kitchen.” He pointed to the gaping front door.
“Thanks.” The kitchen. A thrill washed over her arms. This was the kind of place where a cookbook came to life, blossoming in the history living around it. She could already see herself baking lemon rolls, with flour dust and the scent of vanilla floating in the air.
She stepped inside, letting her eyes adjust. When they did, she gasped at the beautiful grand staircase to her right. Okay, now she had a whole new dream that included a Scarlett O’Hara gown and a handsome man waiting at the bottom for her as she slowly descended into his arms—his mouth hanging open in shock and awe.
She lightly touched the wood as she passed by, following the sound of work to the back of the house. A house that had a staircase that old probably had an outdoor kitchen when it’d been built. The newer one would have been added on later.
The view through the back windows was almost as breathtaking as the staircase. She rubbed her hands over her arms. This place did have magic, the kind that came from generation after generation leaving their imprint on the building. People just didn’t pass on homes like they used to. Everyone wanted the latest and greatest—to build bigger and better. But there was something to be said for staking a family claim on a plot of land. Roots weren’t something you could mortgage.
The power tools suddenly cut off, and two men discussed the layout of the kitchen. Maggie followed their voices, noting the one was deep and sturdy, like the giant sycamore trees outside.
“We could get two sinks in the island,” said the deeper voice.
“What does anyone need two sinks for?” asked the younger-sounding guy.
Maggie bit her tongue. She had an opinion on the matter, but this wasn’t her house and she wasn’t here to consult on the layout—no matter how much she desperately wanted to. What she wouldn’t give to be able to design her dream kitchen in a home like this. The room was large—big enough to host friends and family for the holidays. The exterior wall was brick, the old red kind used by colonizers. It was probably soft to the touch, aged to perfection. The light oak cabinets would all have to go, replaced with maple or cherry. She smiled at the bluebird-colored fridge in the corner—if it worked, she’d want to keep it just because it made her happy.
Rather than eavesdrop on their conversation, she thought she’d better get thisinterviewstarted. Not that she was seriously considering marrying some stranger. No way. That was ludicrous. But she did want to meet the man who made her laugh with just a text.
Besides, the two guys standing with their backs to her were not too shabby from this angle. Broad shoulders, though the younger one hadn’t filled out in a way the other guy had. They say men get better with age, and there was something to that as their shoulders filled out and their backs looked like they could hold up the world. And yeah, she checked how their jeans fit. Age was definitely a good thing on this guy. He had dark hair that curled up around the edge of his ball cap. Crap. She had a thing for guys with wavy dark hair and a bad-boy image. This guy had all that and more. His black tee hugged him just right, and his heavy work boots were scuffed and tough.
“Excuse me?” she squeaked. Mortified that she’d let her hormones take control of her vocal cords, she offered a friendly smile.
The men turned at the same time, mirrored surprised looks on their faces.
“I—” Maggie began to explain who she was and why she was there, but she’d realized something in that nanosecond: she didn’t have to explain anything to the man who’d broken her heart.
Cash Diamante.
“Bye.” She spun around so fast, the room kept going even as she surged out of the house like it was on fire.
Of all the old, dilapidated houses in the world, why’d she have to walk into his?
The day they’d broken up, she’d told him—more like screamed it at his back as he’d walked away—that if she never saw him again, she’d be the happiest woman on earth.
And she had been.
Well, sort of. Once Cash stomped on her heart, she’d sworn off love.
Stupid. This whole thing was stupid.
Her footsteps echoed on the hard wood floor. It was fine. She was fine.
If that was the case, then why did her legs wobble and her pulse gallop?
Darn it all, Cash Diamante!
Didn’t he know exes were supposed to drop off the face of the earth?
Chapter 5
“Who was that?” asked James.
Cash picked his jaw up off the floor. “Maggie Fishwick.” He didn’t like the way her name came out all reverenced and raspy.
“Who?” James pressed, not recognizing the name.
Why would he? Cash didn’t tell anyone about Maggie. “The one who got away,” he said for a short explanation. What brought her out here? To his job site? Crap! He snatched his phone and checked the message app from The Matchmaker. Those texts had her spunky and fun personality written all over them.
