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Tripp stared at the sagging porch and the colony of granddaddy long-legs that was inhabiting the steps of Long House and sighed.
He certainly had his work cut out for him to restore the Creole cottage built almost two centuries ago outside the small community of Bonnet Creek. Situated in south-central Louisiana and bordering the Atchafalaya Basin, the town had been an active trading post for runaway slaves, Native Americans and French settlers. Long House had held down this patch of soil for many years and deserved more than dry rot and neglect. She’d once been a beauty—the pride and joy of his father…
Until almost twelve years ago.
When Howard Long had left Bonnet Creek in disgrace at the hands of Buddy Rodrigue.
But Tripp planned to set things right, to restore the balance. His redemption would start with Long House and end with Buddy crawling on his knees with an apology.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Forcet Construction. “Hey, Tom. Tripp Long.”
After a few seconds of shooting the breeze, Tom got down to business. “I can spare the bulldozer for a couple of days. Shouldn’t take much to knock that old greenhouse down. I’ll send a construction bin you can keep on-site for a few weeks.”
“I really appreciate you leasing me the dozer.”
“No worries. I’ll give you the old-friend discount and send Lou out to show you the basics, but it’s not anything too difficult.”
After thanking him, Tripp hung up and looked around, assessing. Vines and tangled brush needed to be cleared so he could create workspace for the renovation. The house was structurally solid, but it had been neglected. Still, nothing some good, hard elbow grease and a buttload of money couldn’t fix. And Tripp was good at elbow grease since he’d worked his way through college working for a contractor. He knew enough to be dangerous.
Dangerous.
Something flickered in his gut as he walked to the car, popped the trunk and pulled out two duffle bags and an ice chest. Mary Belle Prudhomme.
The woman had looked like cherry pie with a side of cream. Lush, decadent, with a hint of tartness.
Tripp had always loved a good piece of cherry pie.
And he felt hungry.
Which bothered him.
After the way his childhood crush had rejected and humiliated him in high school, he should want nothing to do with her. But still, she made him long to forgive the sting to his pride, to forget the way everyone had ragged on him about getting stood up, to forget she’d chosen Bear Rodrigue over him.
But he needed to ignore the memory of Mary Belle laughing, of her wearing that bikini, of that one innocent kiss beneath the swaying willow.
Yeah, he had enough on his plate without mooning over his once-upon-a-time dream girl.
But deep down, mixed in with his plan for redemption, was another reason he’d come home—Mary Belle Prudhomme.
Chapter Five (#ubba4fdf2-dfab-533c-88ba-8b6265e61689)
Mary Belle looked at the column of numbers until her eyes crossed. Then she slammed a hand onto the desk and rubbed her eyes. “Crap.”
“What’s wrong?” Brenda asked, shooting her a cranky “you just scared me to death” look. As office manager for Forcet Construction, Brenda set the rules…and the thermostat at a freezing 66 degrees. Menopause did weird things to people.
“I can’t get these figures to add up. Must have written something down wrong,” Mary Belle grumped, trying to convince herself it was work that was distracting her, not her new next-door neighbor. That morning she’d seen him jogging, and that image of hot, hard male gliding effortlessly along the road wouldn’t leave her.
She shook her head, trying to clear the erotic images of Tripp, just as Tom Forcet blew into the office like a category-one hurricane—not quite fierce enough to destroy but a force nevertheless.
“I need one of you ladies to ride with Lou. She needs someone to guide and help unload a dozer.”
“Mary Belle will go,” Brenda said, not even glancing away from her computer. “I’m wearing heels and about to burn up in this frickin’ office.”
Tom narrowed his eyes at the normally affable Brenda. “We could hang meat in here.”
Brenda shrugged and didn’t say anything, making Mary Belle wonder what was up with her friend. Brenda loved Tom. Like, really loved him. The two had been skirting around their feelings for the past six months, and Mary Belle hated being caught in the middle.
“I’ll go. Having problems concentrating anyhow,” Mary Belle said, glad she’d worn a comfortable cotton sundress along with flat sandals.
Tom grunted and looked upset that Brenda had been so cold…for a woman in the midst of a hot flash, anyway.
Mary Belle pushed out the door into stifling heat and headed across the gravel lot toward the heavy equipment baking in the sun. Lou Boyd stood beside a company truck and trailer that held a large orange dozer.
“I’m your wing woman.” Mary Belle flashed a smile at her friend. Louise “Lou” Boyd wasn’t what most expected of a heavy equipment operator, but the pretty blonde was one of the best Forcet Construction had.
“Cute dress,” Lou said, doffing the bandana securing her hair and shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. “I need you to guide me because it’s a curvy driveway.”
Mary Belle climbed into the cab of the truck. “No problem.”
For a few minutes she and Lou rode in silence.
“You remember Tripp Long? The nerdy boy we caught watching us when we had that slumber party?”
“Sure. He was a sweet guy…and more than a little obsessed with you.”
“Well, he’s back in Bonnet Creek, and I gotta tell you, there’s nothing nerdy about him anymore.”
“Grew up, did he?” Lou smiled.
“In the best of ways.”
“Wasn’t his dad the one who had an affair with Reva Rodrigue, or something? It was about the time my parents died, so I don’t really remember the details.”
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