by Rachel Magee
This was exactly why he shouldn’t sit on logs.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He let his hand linger under her touch for another millisecond before pulling it away and standing. “I should probably head back.” He held up the baby monitor for good measure.
“Me, too. The first guest room was finished today and I was going to try to get a coat of paint on tonight.” She grabbed the ball at her feet and gave it a quick toss down the beach in the direction of her house. Bear scrambled to his feet and bounded after it. “I wanted to give Bear a little exercise first.”
“Thanks for letting me hijack your peaceful sunset.”
“Anytime.” She flashed a sort of sympathetic half grin that made her nose wrinkle in the cutest way then turned and headed in the direction of her house.
Friends. That’s all they were. Nothing complicated. Nothing noteworthy. Just a friend. Besides, one could never have too many friends in their life, right?
At least that was the story he was sticking with as he watched her walk away.
Chapter Ten
Millie shouldn’t have stopped to get the mail when she was backing out of her driveway on the way to the hardware store the next morning. Lately, nothing good came out of her mailbox. There were no party invitations or greeting cards, and she didn’t even have any fun magazine subscriptions.
All that landed in the rusty old mailbox was junk mail, bills, and—on especially frustrating days—official warning letters from Braxton and the Oceanside Estates HOA.
Today was a frustrating day.
She idled in her driveway to open the dreaded letter. Was this number four or five? She was starting to lose track.
“At what point do you think we’ll hold the record for most violation letters received in the shortest amount of time?” she asked Bear who was in the backseat. “And do you think we get a plaque for that?”
She could joke all she wanted, but the familiar apprehension swirled within as she unfolded the letter. She needed Braxton and the HOA to be on her side if she had any hope of reopening Seascape. And judging by the amount of problems they found with her property, there was very little chance of getting their approval for reopening.
Before she read anything else, she glanced at the bottom. Just like the rest of the letters, it was signed by Braxton, which caused a different stab of disappointment.
She didn’t get him.
Sometimes, like last night on the beach or when he was playing with his daughter, she saw glimpses of a great man with a big heart. It was the kind of man she might fall for—if she was in a place where she’d let herself fall for a man. Which she wasn’t.
But it didn’t matter, because as soon as she started to think she’d misjudged him, the uptight lover of rules and neighborhood hall monitor showed back up.
Last night, she’d thought they’d connected, that their relationship had taken a turn toward friendly. She even considered calling him a friend next time it came up. But clearly she had misread the whole situation because a friend would’ve mentioned a problem before sending a formal violation letter. Or, at the very least, he could’ve given her a heads-up that it was coming. Braxton, however, had said nothing, as if her work on Seascape and all the time and energy she’d poured into it was nothing more than a business matter for him to check off his list.
“Whatever,” she said out loud. “We don’t need him to like us. Seascape is going to speak for herself.”
Bear wagged his tail in agreement.
She glanced at the rest of the letter to find out what his beef was this time.
It has been brought to our attention that one or more aspects of your property is out of compliance with the Oceanside Estates Deed Restrictions. Please address the item(s) listed below.
*Exterior stain used on doors is not on the approved list of colors appropriate for the exterior of a dwelling.*
This is your first warning regarding the above violation(s). You will be given thirty (30) days to rectify this matter.
Her fingers clenched around the paper, crinkling it a bit. For real?
She looked at the two large wooden front doors that she’d spent the entire previous day refinishing. It hadn’t been easy. In fact, one of them she had to re-sand and start over after a disastrous dripping incident, and there was still sawdust in her hair. But all the work had been worth it. They turned out amazing. The finish was exactly like the inspiration picture she’d used from the front of Coastal Life magazine.
Yes, she’d known that the stain she chose wasn’t on the HOA’s approved list, but that list hadn’t been updated since the early 2000s. The stain Landon, the paint expert at the local hardware store, had recommended was a new formula that held up better under the extreme oceanfront elements. According to him it was very popular and being used all over the island. She thought it was close enough to the approved color that it was impossible to tell the difference.
Apparently, a certain next-door neighbor thought differently.
She tossed the letter onto the seat next to her and shifted her car into drive. The newly painted doors were barely even dry. Was he constantly watching her house to make sure she followed every single rule to the letter?
“I hope he at least noticed how fantastic they look while he was comparing the shade to his color chart,” she said to Bear.
She let out a sigh. Under different circumstances she might have left them and seen what happened after the thirty-day deadline, but she didn’t have that luxury. She couldn’t afford to give the HOA any additional reason to not allow Seascape to reopen as an inn. If she had to sand and re-stain those doors for that to happen, she’d do it.
But not for twenty-nine more days.
…
Two days.
It had been two days since the infamous spilling of his soul on the beach to his new neighbor, and Braxton still couldn’t get it off his mind. What had he been thinking?
Yes, it had been a stressful day. In theory, he knew at some point Henry would forget them, but he never expected it would be this soon. He’d also known that day would be hard, but the extent of it was a crushing blow. It was still no excuse for him to pour out his woes to Millie, no matter how optimistic her smile made him feel.
But he had, and now he had to fix it.
He’d seen her power washing the front of her house when he was walking out to his car, and there was no time like the present to mend the proverbial fence between them. So he pulled up to her house, parked well out of the way of the work she was doing, and walked over to her.
“Hey there,” he said, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible as he yelled to be heard over the noise of the machine.
She paused mid-stroke and looked over at him. Her expression morphed from surprise to annoyance. “Oh, it’s you.”
The bite to her words left him momentarily frozen. After their last conversation, he assumed things would be awkward, but he hadn’t expected her to be angry.
She leaned down and turned off the machine, killing the noise of the motor and powerful spray. “Did you come to lecture me about the safety protocols of power washing?” She grabbed the water bottle that was next to her and took a quick drink. “Is a buddy required for this job, too?”
He shrugged. “The buddy rule is appropriate in a lot of situations.”
“Bear has my back. If I find myself incapacitated by a life-threatening power washing accident, he’ll go for help.” She recapped the water bottle and returned it to its place. “What would a power washing accident look like? Hand cramp? Water in the eye?”
Braxton tried to keep his tone light to counterbalance the rising tension between them. “You know, tripping is the second most common cause of serious accidents that happen in the home. There’s a high trip risk when you’re moving while staring at a big wall.”
Millie huffed and rolled her ey
es. “You’re like a walking doomsday Google search.”
“Knowledge is power.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to figure out how to get this conversation back on track. He’d come to apologize for oversharing, but now he wanted to figure out what had her ready to power wash him off her porch.
“And on that front,” she continued, “I’ll have you know I checked to make sure the paint color I’m about to use on the shutters is on the HOA approved list. I even made Landon double check the mixture to make sure it was right.”
Okay, so it was about the rules again. Had she bought the wrong paint at first and then discovered the list? How was that his fault? “I applaud the effort.” Then, hoping to clear the air, he said, “So, listen, about the other night—”
“You could’ve just said something,” she snapped, fire blazing in her eyes.
“Said something?” He did say something. In fact, his problem was that he’d said too much, thus the reason he was here.
She took a step closer, wagging her sprayer at him like a giant finger. “I’m a big girl, Braxton. I can take a bit of constructive criticism without falling to pieces.”
Criticism?
“I mean, seriously, after that whole conversation the other night, you couldn’t slide in a simple, ‘oh, and by the way, your doors can’t be that color?’ I would’ve listened. I probably wouldn’t have been happy about it because, seriously, the color is amazing and you need to update your dumb approved list, but I would’ve listened. It would’ve saved you a stamp.”
Braxton frowned, completely at a loss. “What are you talking about?”
“The letters you keep sending me.” She propped her hands on her hips, sending drips of water from the sprayer running down her shirt. “I get it. There are rules. But would it hurt you to mention them to me before you send me the big formal letter with the threat of a fine?”
He held his hands up defensively. “Can we back up a bit? I came over to apologize for oversharing the other night. It had been a hard day and I wasn’t quite myself. But I didn’t need to dump my problems on you.”
She paused and tilted her head to the side, examining him. “Why would you apologize for that? You’re human. You’re allowed to struggle when life gets overwhelming.”
There was a kindness in her voice once more, like there had been that night.
He swallowed. “But they’re not your problems. I didn’t need to burden you with that.”
“Problems aren’t meant to be carried alone.”
The truth of her words once again chipped away at the walls around his heart, deep enough to reach his soul. But he didn’t need anything or anyone touching his soul. That’s how oversharing happened.
“Thank you, but I don’t—” He stopped and rewound her argument. “Did you say I was sending you threatening letters?”
She let out a huff, the kindness vanishing from her eyes. “The formal HOA warnings you keep leaving in my mailbox.” She held up her fingers and started ticking off examples. “Not submitting my document on time, leaving my trash cans out past sundown, too many work vehicles being parked on the street, and now the stain on the front door not being on the approved color list.”
“And they’re official letters from the HOA?” While he wasn’t a huge fan of the violation letters the HOA sent out, he understood the reason for them. The rules were in place to protect everyone who was part of the community and occasionally, when a friendly mention didn’t rectify the situation, a reminder in the form of a letter was needed. But he had no idea they had sent any to Millie.
“Sure, I guess we can consider them from the HOA since they have the HOA letterhead. But since you signed them, I’m gonna say they’re from you.”
Shock reverberated through him. “My signature is on the letters? You’re sure?”
She let out a huff of air, clearly exasperated with him. “They say Braxton Channing. Is there another Braxton Channing around here?”
Violation letters usually went out from the standards committee, not from him. Not only did he not have any idea these letters were going out, he had no idea that they were using his name. Something was not right here. “May I see them?”
Millie frowned at him, but then sighed. “Sure. A couple of them are in my kitchen. Let me grab them.” She handed him the spray wand and disappeared into her house. A minute later she returned holding some papers.
“Here you go.” She handed the stack to him. “Four violation letters signed by our fearless HOA president.”
He flipped through the pages, blood draining from his face and leaving him cold at the signature at the bottom of every page. His signature. It was the official electronic signature that was on file for legal reasons which was only supposed to be used with his permission. And he most definitely didn’t give his permission for a violation letter.
“I had no idea.”
She tilted her head, studying him with an intense gaze. “So you didn’t send them?”
He shook his head out a combination of disbelief and anger. “No. And there’s no excuse for these. All of these are ridiculous. Of course you have work vehicles at your house. It’s under construction. But they haven’t blocked the road, which is the actual violation.”
Whoever was sending these out had to be looking for any complaint they could find, probably to add to the case against her. It wasn’t just awful, it was unethical. But what made it even worse was that they were using his name to do it.
“On behalf of the HOA, I’m going to figure out who’s been sending them. The deed restrictions are set up to protect residents, not torment them. This shouldn’t be happening.”
“Thanks.” She offered a weak smile. “I appreciate that.”
“On a personal note, I’m sorry. This is a lot of added stress you don’t deserve.”
She held his gaze for a second as if she was trying to read something in his eyes. “Thank you.”
He wanted to say something else, but his mind was too jumbled from finding out about the letters.
Millie shook her head slightly as if snapping out of it and turned to look at the wall beside them. “Well, I better get back to de-griming this monster. I was hoping to get it done before it gets dark, and, as my Aunt Mildred used to say, we’re burning daylight.”
Braxton stared at the house, too. She’d worked hard on this place, harder than he’d seen anyone work in a long time. Her dedication was admirable. Inspiring even. And the fact that someone was using his name to discourage her was deplorable.
Yet, even thinking he was the one who’d sent the letters, she’d still listened patiently to him the other night and encouraged him. He only wished he could somehow ease her mind in the same way. In fact, an idea teased his mind and he opened his mouth before thinking too much.
“Actually, let me make it up to you.”
She paused and stared at him, confusion written all over her face. “Make it up to me?”
He shrugged, trying to cover up a sudden bout of nerves. “Not so much make it up to you as prove that Summer Island is a pretty great place to call home. Despite what some might have led you to believe.”
“Okay.” Her voice had a hint of caution in it. “What do you have in mind?”
He took a breath.
“Let me take you to the Beach Front Festival this weekend.”
“Oh yeah, I heard some of the ladies talking about that,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “What exactly is it?”
“It’s our version of a main street festival. You know, local vendors, artists, live music.” Memories of the annual festival where their community came together floated through his mind. It was one of his favorite events in Summer Island and the thought of sharing it with her made him buzz with excitement.
He’d be sharing it as an ambassador, of course, to try to repair any damage the letters might have caused
her. He just had to keep repeating this until he believed it.
“Alice and I are already planning on going,” he said. “As your neighbors, we’d love to show you the best our town has to offer.”
Millie raised an eyebrow. “As my neighbor?”
He nodded. “Consider it a peace offering. Plus, parking is always a problem, so they encourage ride sharing when possible.”
Millie twisted her mouth to the side, considering it. “Well, in that case, how can I say no?”
His heart did a funny thing that had him inhaling sharply. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up Saturday at ten?”
She smiled one of her optimistic, hopeful, Millie smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”
Another shot of excitement buzzed through him. “Great. See you then.”
Chapter Eleven
The following Saturday morning, Millie pulled out the sundress she’d bought in Chicago the day she decided to move to South Carolina.
It was a splurge, especially for a casual dress, but the cheerful pinks and turquoises that made up the tropical pattern had looked like a preview of what her new life would be. In her mind, living on the coast would be full of breezy and laid-back days where she became the kind of person who wore casual resort wear on a daily basis. Even work would be more leisure than chore.
But reality had hit a little different when she arrived.
These days, she was the kind of person who wore old T-shirts and shorts she didn’t mind ruining while keeping her hair pulled back with a baseball cap. And her list of chores to complete the renovation grew every day.
But today she was taking a break from the never-ending reno projects to go to her first Summer Island festival. It was the perfect event to debut her new dress. And her decision to wear it had absolutely nothing to do with the neighbor with whom she was going. Nothing at all.
She slipped the sundress over her head. “It’s official, Bear. Welcome to our resort-wear life.” Using the scissors on her dresser, she cut off the tags. “Now to find some shoes to go with it.”
