Trusting His Heart (McCormick's Creek Series Book 1) Read online

  Trusting His Heart

  Jen Peters

  Blue Lily Books

  Copyright © 2018 by Jen Peters

  Blue Lily Books, Blue Lily Publishers

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN 978-1-949876-00-0 (print)

  ISBN 978-1-949876-01-7 (e-book)

  Trusting His Heart

  Could he be the one to make her stay?

  Feisty, independent Cat Billings doesn’t need a man, but she does need a change. Leaving behind a troubled youth and a career of flipping rundown houses in California, she heads to the small town of McCormick’s Creek, Oregon to begin a high-end restoration.

  Hard-working, hard-headed Justin Cooper refuses to say why he needs extra money, he just wants to keep his head down and focus on the job. But his co-contractor turns out to be a spirited, sassy gal who slides into his heart, but also thinks she can boss him around.

  Tempers flare and sparks fly as Cat and Justin revive the old McCormick mansion, but Justin can’t afford to be distracted and Cat has no plans to stay in town afterwards. And both have pieces of their lives they aren’t willing to share.

  Can love conquer the clashes between them and the secrets each is keeping?

  To my mother,

  who waited with patience and encouragement, and who has rehabbed many a house herself.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Finding Her Heart (excerpt)

  Thank You

  The McCormick’s Creek Series

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Cat bounced in her seat, trying to control her excitement as she pushed her old pickup along the Oregon highway. A new place, a new job, hopefully a whole new shift in her career.

  Bella, her yellow Lab, caught her energy and perked her ears up, thumping her tail against the passenger door.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in it, kiddo,” Cat warned. Then she grinned and eased off the accelerator to watch a deer dance lightly across the mountain road and into the towering evergreens. Not something she usually saw back in Sacramento. Of course, she was a city girl, born and bred, and these long stretches of nothing but scenery weren’t something she was used to, either.

  Bella went back to chewing her bumpy rubber bone and Cat turned her attention back to the road.

  Three more deer darted out. Cat swerved to the right and hit the brakes, sending the Chevy fishtailing. They were too close, too fast. “Bella!” She yanked the wheel harder and gasped, suddenly jolting to a stop in the drainage ditch beside the highway.

  The last deer finished leaping gracefully across the asphalt to the safety of the forest.

  Cat took a deep breath and blinked. Bella had landed on the dusty floor of the truck. “You okay, girl?” She ran her hands along the dog’s soft fur and down each sprawling leg. Nothing seemed hurt. Bella just looked at her with those big brown eyes, clambered back up, and stuck her nose into Cat’s armpit for comfort. Cat rubbed behind her ears, then rested her cheek against the dog’s soft back. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I don’t know how you put up with me, but I’m glad you do.”

  With her heart still pounding, she shifted the old truck into reverse. The ditch was only a couple feet deep—she should be able to back out. The engine revved but the tires just spun. She sighed and groaned and then leaned her forehead against the steering wheel.

  “Dang-blasted, grunt of a pig,” she muttered. Sam, her old mentor, had never let her swear when he was teaching her the building trade, and she’d stuck with his attitude even around all her rough-edged workers.

  “OK,” she told Bella, “Some jacked-up idea of a ditch isn’t going to beat us.” She was used to having complete control over her life, and she wasn’t going to let that change now.

  Bella nosed her neck, and Cat gently pushed her away. “You need to stay here, girl.” She patted her once more, then got out.

  The brisk April air, far different from the Sacramento heat she had just left, raised goosebumps on her skin, and she wished she had dressed more warmly. She rubbed her arms, then checked that the table saw and the cargo box holding her tools were still strapped securely in the truck bed. The other two bags, crammed with her less-treasured belongings, had been jostled to the other side but hadn’t even tipped over.

  That was a relief. She was staking her future on this new job, and she couldn’t show up without the tools to do it. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sharp tang of the pine forest in front of her, and stepped carefully through the weeds in her flip-flops.

  Her front tires were planted firmly a foot and a half down the ditch, too deep to simply back out. She prided herself on her self-sufficiency, but there wasn’t a tool in her possession that would help. A tree branch might work for leverage, but she couldn’t possibly brace it against the axle and drive the truck out at the same time.

  She slumped against the truck door. She was supposed to meet Mr. Blake in McCormick’s Creek in less than an hour, and Google Maps said she still had 40 minutes to go.

  She needed another person. Sam’s words echoed from her teenage years. “Ain’t no shame in asking for help if you can’t do it all yourself, little girl.” She smiled at the memory of the wise old builder who had set her on this path.

  Cat glanced down the highway. A few cars had whizzed past without slowing down, just like back home. She watched them go and shrugged. Oregon might be a beautiful paradise, but people were the same all over. However, as she searched under the trees for a downed branch, a truck pulled to a stop. A shiny, oversized red Ford F-250, to be exact.

  The man who climbed out had his face hidden in the shadow of his ball cap, allowing her to see only a strong jaw covered in stubble, but he was wearing jeans and work boots, and his broad shoulders looked like they’d be at home carrying a stack of 2x6’s. Her shoulders relaxed in relief—the two of them would surely be able to back the truck out.

  Then she stiffened again. Strangers might be sincere and helpful, but they could also be keen to take advantage of a stranded woman. While her shorts weren’t too short and her top covered her well enough, it was best to be on her guard.

  “Need some help?” the man asked, taking his cap off to reveal eyes the color of the evergreens towering beside the road. Dark hair curled lightly over his ears, and his face softened with a smile.

  Bella stood inside the cab and nosed the window.

  The man watched them, waiting. His body was quiet and his face calm.

  “Deer,” she said, finally deciding to trust him. “I saw the first one, but then three more jumped out.”

  He glanced at her California license plate and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “One of the rules to learn in Oregon is that there’s always a second set of deer.”

  His voice was deep and a little hoarse, reminding Cat of one of her half-brothers when he yelled too much. “Thanks, I’ll remember that.”

  “April’s a lit
tle cool for shorts,” he commented.

  She rubbed her chilly arms. “It was hot coming up I-5 and my a/c isn’t great.” At least he wasn’t running his eyes up and down her body like new workers on her job sites usually did. Not obviously, anyway.

  “Hope you packed some warmer clothes for your visit. Or are you staying?”

  So was he concerned or just judgmental? Between his husky voice and perfectly fitted jeans, she wouldn’t mind talking to him long enough to find out, but now wasn’t the time. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said, “but I really need to get going. I’m hoping you stopped because you could help?”

  He shrugged and nodded. “Easy as pie, the truck’s got a winch.”

  Five minutes later she was hooked up and being reeled in by his gorgeous red pickup. Five minutes after that, she was unhooked and reaching for a handshake.

  “Name’s Justin,” he said.

  “I’m Cat. And thank you.” His hands were calloused and strong, not that she should be noticing that. “I’m sorry, I’m late for a job. I really appreciate it.”

  She hopped in, ruffled Bella’s fur and pulled out, waving at him on the way and trying not to think about those broad shoulders.

  Five miles up the highway, when she should have been gathering her thoughts for Mr. Blake, she was still thinking about him.

  Not that broad shoulders and warm hands and a truck to die for weren’t great things. But she wasn’t interested in quick hook-ups, and her nomadic lifestyle didn’t make for great long-term relationships. She wasn’t good at relationships anyway. She’d watched her mother’s boyfriends come and go on a monthly basis, and the only thing close to real love she’d seen was her brother and his wife.

  She smiled, thinking of them, glad someone in this world had a good marriage. But nothing in her life went smoothly, and she knew in her core that she’d never find someone to love forever. It was easier just to avoid relationships altogether. So once she had rehabbed a couple of houses in an area, she was quite ready to pull up stakes, leave all the people behind, and head to a new place.

  Except this time she wasn’t relocating just to fix and flip another outdated ranch house. The whole reason to come to McCormick’s Creek was to renovate a mansion she’d never seen in a tiny town she’d never heard of, miles from civilization. It was a project she could put her heart into, a project that would hopefully give her the career shift she’d been looking for.

  Another twenty six miles up the highway, the McCormick’s Creek, pop. 6,414 sign gave a faded welcome.

  * * *

  Cat pulled into a small circular driveway and stared at the dilapidated mansion. Paint peeled in curls, porch rails were splintered or broken, and what used to be a rose garden was filled with weeds and small trees. But behind it all lay the bones of a fine old Queen Anne. Three stories with all sorts of porches and roof angles, and best of all, a tall turret on one corner.

  As a child, sharing a bed with a baby sister, she’d dreamed of living in a house with nooks and crannies and secret passageways. In her fantasy, she slept in a castle turret with a hidden door and a bed all her own. Her imagination had taken her on adventures, solved mysteries, and explored places no one else knew about.

  Dreams were just dreams, of course, created from needs she’d been too young to express. Reality was what she built from hard experience and conscious decisions. But now, with a mansion and turret just waiting for her, she wondered if this was a chance to combine childhood dreams and real life—creating a “castle” tucked away in the mountains, waiting for visitors who would create their own adventures, plus the opportunity to fulfill the dreams she had now.

  Her fingers itched to get started, but she didn’t even have the key yet. Despite the deer, she’d managed to arrive a little early for her appointment with Mr. Blake. She hopped down from the truck, snapped a leash onto Bella’s collar and wandered through the weeds. She peered in dusty windows, tapped a few not-too-solid posts, stepped over stray bricks and wood blocks.

  “It’s going to be a job-and-a-half, right, Bella? But that’s what we’re here for.” Cat wandered around back to peer through a kitchen window. “Maybe we’ll even find a secret passageway.”

  The kitchen had been stripped of everything except an old pink stove. The faded linoleum ended where the cabinets had been, revealing the dark pine boards of the original floor. Varying colors of paint sections showed where cabinets had been added over time. There was even a corner where some plaster had been pried away to expose the lath underneath.

  Cat shook her head as she returned to the front porch. Amateurs were always getting in over their heads. This might have become an overwhelming project once they dug into it, or they looked at the money required and just quit. She didn’t know and it really didn’t matter—at least they had done enough repairs that the rain hadn’t gotten in. Mr. Blake’s client, one of the original McCormicks, had gotten his ancestral home back, and now Cat had the chance to do something a lot more fulfilling than rehabbing boring houses in the suburbs.

  “Ms. Billings, glad you arrived safely.” Mr. Blake trotted up the front steps, immaculate in his suit and executive haircut. Rather good-looking, too, but without the incredible shoulders of the guy who’d pulled her out of the ditch.

  Cat gave him a firm handshake. “I see what you meant when you said the mansion needs a lot of TLC.”

  Mr. Blake put a key into the front door. “More than that—she needs a builder who cares about her. Mr. McCormick and I are determined that’s what she’s going to get.”

  Cat stepped into the entryway and slowly turned a circle. A dusty chandelier hung in the two-story entryway, leading her eye to a grand staircase that split in both directions on the next floor. It could have been pulled straight out of Gone with the Wind, or even Downton Abbey.

  The stairway was almost the only thing intact, though. The walls were stripped to the studs, and she could look into each room except for a solid wall to the right.

  “The kitchen,” Mr. Blake explained, gesturing toward it.

  She nodded, but didn’t tell him she’d already looked at it from the other side.

  They wandered through the floors, talking again about walls to take out, new ones to build, private bathrooms to install, and a complete remodel of the kitchen. Cat kept her grin to herself, but she wanted to spin at the thought of it all. It would be glorious, and it would be her project.

  “There’s just one more thing,” Mr. Blake said, tilting his head just a smidge. “I’ve hired somebody local to work with you.”

  “Someone lo—”

  Mr. Blake lifted a hand, stopping her mid-question. “He’s an electrician, which you’ll definitely need, and he’s done some general contracting around here.”

  “But I don’t need—”

  The lawyer waved a hand. “I pulled you in because of the quality of your detail work, not just your skill as a contractor. But other than you, I want to use locals as much as I can. Cooper’s from McCormick’s Creek. He’ll know the best sub-contractors and general labor, and he comes well recommended. I want him on the project. Can you deal with that?”

  His voice was pleasant, but his eyes were penetrating, even demanding, and she knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Still, she was used to having sole control of her projects, from the construction workers she hired, to the job hours, to the priorities of what got worked on first.

  Could she deal with a co-contractor? What if he was constantly trying to overrule her? Or worse, was a slacker? She pursed her lips, thinking hard.

  When she met Mr. Blake’s eyes, she could read them easily: she accepted or she was out. She could suddenly see how he was successful in court. “Of course, Mr. Blake,” she finally said. “It’s your project.”

  He nodded. “Cooper will be by late tomorrow morning. Good luck with everything.” He gave her the rolled up blueprints. “And call me Mitchell.”

  “Mitchell,” she echoed as they shook hands. This was going to be interesti
ng. She’d work with the other guy, but she’d have to let him know from the beginning who was really the boss.

  Chapter 2

  Justin Cooper repacked his tools and picked up the snips of wire he’d cut. “All done, Mrs. Mahoney. You’ve got new wiring to the dryer outlet now, no more danger of it shorting out and causing a fire.”

  The elderly lady laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Justin. I always knew you’d grow up to be a good boy. Now what do I owe you?”

  He smiled at his old teacher and named a figure less than what he should be charging. He never would have made it through sixth grade social studies without her.

  He trotted down Mrs. Mahoney’s steps and checked his watch. Almost ten and a “delicious” spring morning, as his mother would say. Wispy clouds floated across a sky that would be deep blue by afternoon.

  The thought of his mother brought back all the worries. It was a good thing he had this new contract or he wouldn’t be able to keep the financial problems from her.

  The economy in McCormick’s Creek had him scrambling to manage things as it was. The town used to keep all three local electricians busy, but nobody was building new houses or remodeling now, which left them all vying for repair jobs at a time he really needed to be working 60-hour weeks. He had wired one new house, but it had ended up unfinished and he’d received a partially paid off truck instead of cash. Now he got by with odd projects—dividing a large bedroom into two so a growing family didn’t have to buy a bigger house, that sort of thing—and fixing the electrical problems in older homes like Mrs. Mahoney’s.