by Nia Arthurs
Be My Reason
Make It Marriage Book 10
Nia Arthurs
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
BE MY REASON
Copyright © 2020 Nia Arthurs
Written by Nia Arthurs
Edited by Jalulu Editing
Cover by Oliviaprodesign
(V1)
About This Book
A passionate historian fighting to save a landmark, a desperate single dad threatening to tear it down, and the attraction neither of them expected…
Single Dad, Heath Jameson, is the gorgeous, kind, impossibly stubborn contractor tearing down the farmhouse I’m trying to save.
We’re enemies.
I draw the line there.
But Heath keeps crossing it.
Over and over again.
Slowly, I start to forget that he’s arrogance personified.
I start to fall for it. Him.
The construction boots. The long hair. The smile.
And then, to make matters worse, I start to fall for his adorable little girl.
This tiny family fills the big, dark hole in my heart but, as the battle for the farmhouse heats up, all loyalties are tested, and I’m left with a brutal choice.
Can I keep my heart and my career? Or will I have to give up one to save the other?
Contents
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1. Brenna
2. Heath
3. Brenna
4. Heath
5. Brenna
6. Brenna
7. Heath
8. Brenna
9. Heath
10. Brenna
11. Heath
12. Brenna
13. Heath
14. Brenna
15. Heath
16. Brenna
17. Heath
18. Brenna
19. Heath
20. Brenna
21. Heath
22. Brenna
23. Heath
24. Heath
25. Brenna
26. Heath
27. Brenna
28. Heath
29. Brenna
30. Brenna
31. Heath
32. Brenna
33. Heath
34. Heath
35. Brenna
36. Heath
37. Brenna
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Be My Baby
Sneak Peek! Be My Baby Chapter One
Earn Me
Sneak Peek! Earn Me Chapter One
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One
Brenna
“Take one more step. I dare you.” My voice cracks like a whip in the still morning air.
No one moves.
Neither do I.
The wrecking ball stares me down like a monster with no eyes. A monster cradled in the arms of yellow machinery.
If it’s a battle of strength, I don’t stand a chance. But when it comes to stubbornness…
A man shimmies around the open door of the crane and jumps to the ground. His heavy boots make a crunching sound as he lands, pummeling the sand and grass.
Sunshine bounces against his hard hat and the orange reflective vest. He charges toward me, bushy eyebrows drawn in irritation. “Lady, are you crazy?”
“Yes.” I lift my chin and spread my arms wider. “I am when the things I care about are threatened.”
“It’s just a stupid house!” He points a dark finger at the shabby two-story structure sitting on the land behind me.
My eyes narrow. “No. It’s not. This—” I thrust my finger at the house—“is a symbol of freedom and justice.” Strengthening my stance, I fold my arms over my chest. “And you can’t knock it down.”
Exasperation in his voice, the man hisses, “Lady, we’ve got a permit.”
“And I’ve already called the city council about that.”
He curses under his breath. “Crazy tree-hugger…”
“Tree…” I bark out a laugh. Seriously. Did he not hear a word I just said? “I’m protecting history.” I slap my chest. “Our history.”
He tilts his head to the side, totally uninterested.
“Don’t you know about the Underground Railroad?” I press.
Again, I’m met with glazed eyes and twisted lips.
He doesn’t care, Brenna.
I know that.
I can see that.
But I jump into my speech even though I’m aware that I have a less-than-enthused audience. “A month ago, I found evidence that the occupants of this house were supporters of a local abolitionist society. That significantly increases the chances of—”
“Lady, I really don’t give a damn. I’m just trying to do my job.”
Rejected.
I purse my lips.
He juts his chin at the driveway. “Just go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Do you think this is helping anybody? All you’re doing is causing a fuss.” He wipes the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. The movement knocks his hat back to reveal the wrinkles in his dark brown skin. “I’ve been around long enough to see some ‘history’ of my own.” He scowls. “This house won’t feed a black family living on food stamps. It won’t take all the black brothers out of prison. It won’t heal the black sons who grow up without fathers. This stupid house…” He jabs a finger in my direction, “is worth nothing.”
“And you are entitled to your opinion.”
“Lady—”
“But I’m not moving.”
He curses under his breath and rubs his forehead again.
I take stock of my surroundings. Tall grass grows wildly in front of the abandoned farmhouse, spreading out to the rest of the street. Squatters have claimed this neighborhood. A few live in equally broken-down houses just next door.
In front of the nearest home, a toddler plays with a shiny red ball. The ball slips from her hands and bounces toward the road.
“Ma’am, you need to get out of here.”
“No.” I lift my chin, but my gaze is on the kid.
The ball is in the middle of the road now.
Don’t run for it, sweetie. Stay on the sidewalk.
She chases after her toy. Her blonde hair streams behind her. Her gap-toothed smile is the definition of joy.
Just then, a motorcycle turns the bend, heading right for the kid who’s completely oblivious as she picks up her ball.
Panic erupts in my heart.
“Ma’am—”
“No! No!” Without stopping to think, I sprint right into the middle of the street.
The motorcycle swerves wildly. Curses sputter out of the man in the dark helmet.
Everything moves in slow motion.
Freeze-frames.
There’s just me.
The girl.
And painful memories.
But history won’t repeat itself today.
Grabbing her up like a football, I scoop the toddler into my arms and dive onto the sidewalk.
I’m no ninja. And I sure as hell can’t break my fall like one.
My back slams against granite.
My skin burns.
I don�
�t have to look to know that hot cement and friction did a number on my elbows.
I grit my teeth to ignore the sting and focus on the kid. “Are you okay?”
Tears fill her blue eyes, but she nods.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A woman—the kid’s mother, I assume—storms out of the neighboring house. Her hot pink robe flaps behind her. Dark blue eyes bore into me with enough force to drill deep into my bones. She smells like cigarettes and broken dreams.
“Mommy!” The girl flees my arms.
“Who the hell are you?” Pink Robe slaps a hand on her hip. “And why are you touching my kid?”
I get up as fast as I can.
My body sends shockwaves of pain through my arms, warning that I shouldn’t be moving so sprightly right now. I straighten my elbows slowly, hissing under my breath.
“Ma’am, your kid was chasing her toy out into the street.”
The mother’s eyes widen. “Anastacia is that true? You know you’re not supposed to leave this yard without my permission.”
Anastacia cowers, her head lowered.
“Did you?” The mother shrieks. “You know we can’t afford hospital fees with your no-good daddy out of work.”
I try to calm the mother down. “Well, technically, she didn’t expect a bike to turn the bend like that.”
“Stay out of this. This is between me and my kid,” the woman yells, flinging her hand at me.
Suddenly, a shadow casts over our little trio. I don’t look up, but I can feel the shift in the air. A tension that snaps and crackles.
My gaze sweeps over a worn pair of orange steel-toe boots. Heavy jeans scrunched around the ankles. A lean waist. A grey T-shirt fitted snugly over a muscular chest. Golden skin-tone. Sun-kissed, people would say.
I would say.
Eyes rising like an elevator, I peruse his gorgeous face. Square jaw. Full bottom lip surrounded by a closely shaved beard. I inhale as our eyes collide. His are an ocean green and so intense I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
The stranger produces the ball that bounced into the road and presents it to the little girl. His head dips slightly and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips when he says, “Here you go.”
“T-thank you,” the little girl lisps.
The man turns that handsome smile on the mother. Dark blonde, thick eyebrows arch over brilliant green eyes. “Is there a problem here?”
“Oh…” The mother’s pink lips form the sound and stay that way.
The stranger shifts to me next and there’s concern in his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” I bob my head shyly. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” His gaze is light and assessing.
Something about those eyes makes my stomach warm.
I kneel in front of the little girl to get away from the feeling. “Hey, be careful when you’re playing okay?”
She nods vigorously.
“Come on, Stacia.” The mother gathers her daughter’s hand and leads her back to the house.
It’s just me and the stranger.
He juts his chin at his vehicle. “I’ve got a first-aid kit in the car.”
“Is that the adult version of a white van and candy?”
“I’m not going to steal you away in my truck.” He smirks. “Unless you ask.”
I chuckle and shake my head as I look down at my scraped limbs. “It’s fine. Looks worse than it is.”
His thumb lightly grazes the cut on my elbow.
I recoil, my face crumpling into a grimace.
He offers a lopsided smirk and, I kid you not, my heart flogs my ribs like a groupie charging after her favorite singer.
“My car’s right there. You can hold the key if you want.” He fishes it out of his pocket. “I’ll just fix you up real quick.”
I chew on my bottom lip.
He sees my hesitation and backs off. “Or you can—”
“No,” I blurt. Because, suddenly, I want to draw out this moment as much as I can. Reaching out, I snap his keys from his hand and smile. “I’ll take you up on your offer.”
He gestures to his truck, a sparkle in his green eyes. “Right this way, ma’am.”
Two
Heath
She’s stunning. Gorgeous.
And yet, that’s not the first thing I noticed about her.
It was the way she took off into the street.
I didn’t see where she came from. All I saw were slender hands pumping at her sides. Those graceful arms wrapping around the child. Her long neck as it bowed with the weight of her panic. Her shapely calves as they pressed into the sidewalk. Her dark lips slightly parted as she sucked in a breath.
My heart jumped like she was holding Glory.
My kid.
My daughter.
I imagined Glory in the same place, this woman bounding in and protecting her in my stead.
I saw it all play out like a movie in my head and it moved me.
The woman follows me to the car and hops into the passenger side. Her jean-clad legs swing out and her feet press into the running board.
“I can’t believe that motorcycle drove off without stopping,” she says.
“Some people are just irresponsible.”
“Some?” She scrunches her nose. “It’s more than that.”
I untwist the bottle of water I keep in my glove box. “You don’t think there’s good out there?”
“Very few.”
“Still counts.” I pour the water over her elbows to clean her wound. “Although you strike me as the type to see the glass as half-empty.”
“It’s called realism.” She smirks.
“I’m not judging.” I unclip the first-aid kit and remove the antibacterial cream.
“And yet it feels like you are.” She scrunches her nose.
“Is that your superpower?” I ask.
“Superpower?”
“Reading minds.”
She laughs softly. “Alright, you got me. Just don’t tell anyone about my secret.”
I arch an eyebrow at her as I squeeze the tube of antibacterial cream. “It’s not that I’m blind to evil. I just choose to believe that there are more people who want to make a change in the world than there are those who’d rather watch it burn.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“Don’t hold yourself back from a debate on my account.”
One corner of her lips ticks up. “You can tell I like to argue?”
“Your eyes sparked at the whiff of disagreement.”
“I’d rather not wipe the floor with you. You’re being so nice.”
I laugh. “Then I should thank you for your kindness.” I continue to smear her scrapes with the cream. “I’d like to keep living in my happy little bubble.”
“Let me guess.” She lifts one of the band-aids from my kit. It’s a colorful pink design with Glory’s current obsession—a superhero in a ladybug catsuit. “This is why you want to believe we can leave the world a better place?”
“My daughter has very particular tastes.” I hold her elbow gently. “She deserves a better world.”
“When I think about kids,” she sucks in a breath, “I have to agree.”
“Kids are your weakness?”
“I can’t help myself.” A lost look enters her eyes. “Some kids have to grow up really fast and others don’t grow up at all.”
I want to ask her more, but my phone rings.
It’s Willie, the head of my crew.
Her phone chirps too.
She takes a look at the screen. Brown eyes widening, she plunks the phone to her ear and hops out of the vehicle yelling, “They approved it? Yes. Okay. Send those documents to them right away. No.” She checks her watch. “I want to deliver that in person.” She ends the call. Swings to me. “I’ve got to go, but thanks for this.” She taps her band-aid. “I’ll wear it proudly.”
“No problem.”
Her phone rings again. She a
nswers that call immediately, talking a mile a minute. The farther she walks away from me, the more urgency compiles in my chest. It feels like a rope slipping out of my fingers. Like sand through an hourglass.
I can’t lose her without at least getting a name.
I need…
My lips part. “Hey, I—”
As if Fate is conspiring against me, a taxi shows up at that exact moment.
The hell? There were absolutely no cars on this road a minute ago.
The woman moves determinedly into the cab and the taxi zooms around the bend.
Just like that, she’s out of sight.
Gone.
Like Cinderella in a poof of exhaust.
I clasp my hands together and hook them behind my neck as I stand alone on the street.
Disappointment crashes into me.
Regret crawls up my skin like a bug I can’t slap away.
I enjoyed our short conversation and I wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better. I should have asked her to lunch the moment I had her in my car. Now I missed my chance.
My phone chirps.
It’s Willie again.
Instead of picking up, I just slam my car door and walk to the farmhouse. The wrecking ball is hovering over the ground. Everything is quiet.
“Willie!” I yell, a little of my frustration easing out unfairly at him. “Why haven’t we started demo yet?”
