Southern Exposure (Southern Desires Series Book 2)

by Jeannette Winters

  When Mark finally entered her apartment she thought he might relax a bit. Instead he dropped his duffle bag on the floor and instantly went into fix-it mode, looking at the door. By his expression, he wasn’t too happy with what he found. She may have failed to mention the entire locking mechanism had fallen out on the inside.

  “Where’s the lock?”

  “Some pieces are on the shelf behind you,” he went to retrieve them as she continued, “but I threw out some of it too.”

  Mark picked up the lock then turned back to her. “By some you mean the actual part where the key goes? This is useless.”

  “Wow. Thanks for clarifying that. I couldn’t have figured that out myself.” It wasn’t like her to be so sarcastic. She was hot and tired, and a lecture from hired help was not going to make it any better. She’d lived there most of her life, and her father had never locked a door. “My father always said ‘a lock only keeps a good person from entering. It never stops a criminal.”

  Of course I didn’t use that when I went to college. There you had a lock for everything, and if you didn’t, it seemed to grow legs and walk.

  “How about this one, an ounce of prevention—”

  “Okay, I hear you. Monday we’ll go into town and get a new lock. Happy?”

  “Let’s go now.” Mark tossed what remained of the lock onto the desk by the door.

  “Impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they close at noon on the weekends. So it’ll have to wait until Monday.” And the last thing I want right now is another long drive into town. If I take him there now, my phone will be blowing up with questions all weekend about who he is, what he is doing here. And I hate questions. Not everyone asks questions because they care about the answers, and I’m tired of people asking me if I’m okay when they really don’t want to hear the truth. Sometimes I just can’t bring myself to smile and answer, “Wonderful.” Sometimes I want to yell and scream and say life is not fair. But no, I can’t do that here. Not unless I want to be the talk of the town. That’s what I liked about the big city. People knew boundaries. They didn’t care who you were or what you did as long as it didn’t affect them. Again, the complexity of southern, small-town living where you both hate it and love it.

  “And that is the only place to shop?”

  Hannah put her hands on her hips. “You know, Mr. Collins, you ask a lot of questions, as though you’re not a very trusting person. Why is that?”

  “Because I don’t go through life with rose-colored glasses. Maybe it’s time you take yours off.”

  She was shocked by his gruff, condescending words. It wasn’t like she didn’t know how cruel life could be. Her life hadn’t been an easy one, not that she shared any of it—even with her best friend. Life could be very ugly. If anyone doubted that all they needed to do was turn on the television for a constant reminder. She made a choice every day to get up, put a smile on her face, and be happy. “We can add a pair of glasses to your shopping list on Monday.” Hannah put her nose in the air, claiming victory as she brushed past him, but she knew it was far from the truth. He’s not coming here and making me look at the bad. Maybe I need to teach him how to see the bright side of things. And from what I’ve seen so far, it looks like I’ll have my hands full with more than just supervising the repairs the next few months.

  Chapter Two

  Mark didn’t sleep much that night, as usual. After two or three hours he was awake and ready to go. He couldn’t remember the last time he was up after sunrise. Even on a day like today when he could’ve spent a day in bed because he obviously wasn’t going to be allowed to get any work done, he couldn’t sleep. His internal clock told him it was around three a.m.

  There were numerous people he could call right now who were up and pacing the floor just like him. The only time his team wasn’t up this damn early was when they were passed out from being drunk the night before. Many nights he was tempted to do the same so he could relax, but he couldn’t let his guard down. Mark needed to be ready, be in control, at all times. When you’re shit-faced drunk as hell, mistakes get made, and people get hurt or worse. He’d seen it happen to others. It wasn’t going to happen to him or his men. Not if he could help it.

  Before he called it a night last night, he’d taken a look at her apartment. The original wood was still intact. The only change he could see was to the inner walls where they made what must’ve been a living room into bedrooms. She hadn’t shown him hers, but he assumed it was the one door she refused to open. If it was anything like her, it probably was bright and colorful. And smelled of honeysuckles.

  There was only one bathroom, and it separated their bedrooms. Hearing Hannah singing in the shower late last night didn’t help his sleep any, but he knew where the saying voice of an angel came from. It was exotically sensual and soothing to the soul. He’d found himself lying on the bed with his eyes closed, totally relaxed. It was such a bittersweet rarity. No matter how he yearned to hear it again, next time he was going out for a walk.

  Actually, a walk now might be a good idea. Mark pulled a flashlight from his bag. This was a good time to check out that shed Hannah had mentioned to him the night before. He had tools but supplies to do the job were another story. There didn’t seem to be anything that didn’t creak as he opened it or walked on it, but the noise didn’t seem to wake Hannah. Many times over the years in the field, being stealthy was what saved his life.

  He stopped by the kitchen where she’d shown him the one thing he wasn’t going to start this day without. Coffee. Grabbing a mug he put it under the dispenser and pressed the button for bold. He liked it strong and black. When he took his first sip, he nearly spat it right back out again; it tasted more like colored water. Downing the hot contents he rinsed the cup and put it back in the cupboard. There was a sink full of dishes waiting to be washed, but that didn’t matter to him. Mark had been alone so long that he never allowed another person to take care of his most basic needs.

  Walking out of the apartment, he wished once again there was a lock on the door. Until there was some security, it meant his M1911 was strapped to him twenty-four seven. He wasn’t worried about Hannah getting hold of it. She was as harmless as they come. But until he knew who the tenant on the second floor was, he was going to stay on guard. Hannah might trust you, but you’re going to find I have one rule: trust is not given; it’s earned.

  Outside of his men and his family, there was only one person he completely trusted. His best friend, Don Farrell, might not have joined the Navy with him, but he was one civilian he trusted with his life. Those first few years he’d come home from deployment Don had given him jobs working construction with him. I was so lost and on edge. He gave me an outlet. The man was brilliant and was one of the top construction engineers in the country. Everything he knew outside the Navy, he learned from Don. That was both good and bad. The guy was as unpredictable as they come. Don had no issue walking away from a successful career to start his own construction photography company. One day he was building the skyscrapers and the next he was documenting the progress through photos. Periodically Mark would work with Don between missions, but if he couldn’t sit still long enough to handle a normal nine-to-five job, there was no way he could handle how quiet and boring it must be standing behind a camera all day. That’s why he took this job in Savannah. Anything had sounded better than following Don around on a photo shoot. Start taking pictures of models and you can count me in.

  This place wasn’t lacking in beauty and charm, but it didn’t make it on the excitement charts. At least in the city he was able to find something to occupy his time throughout the night. Here all he had was one stunning woman who was too young and sweet for his taste. That left only one thing. Work.

  As he made his way across the lawn, he turned back to the house. Even though the curtains were drawn shut, he could tell the lights were on in the occupied apartment. Whoever the guy was, it was obvious he didn’t sleep at night either. Was
he just an early riser or was it something else? Everything Hannah had said already made him question the guy. If she didn’t introduce them by Monday, he was going to find an excuse to do so himself.

  Turning back to the shed, he opened the door, which instantly fell off its hinges. He had to catch it before it fell to the ground. How is this place still standing? Mark lifted the door and leaned it against the outside wall. Don’t let it cave in now. The entire shed looked as though the elements had gotten to it. It was beyond only needing painted. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been since someone had been inside, but it looked like a few years at least. Add shed to the quickly growing list.

  Once inside, much to his surprise, he found it was well organized. Each tool sorted by type with all its accessories right by it. If this was her father’s workshop, he was a man ready for anything. His collection was impressive. Mark’s own father wasn’t the repairman type. The most he’d seen in his father’s tool box were a few screwdrivers and a hammer. If Don hadn’t thrown him right into huge projects, he probably wouldn’t know what half the equipment was in the shed. There was more than most people would normally have for basic home repairs. He picked up a few saws, and the blades and bits were worn enough to say the tools weren’t just for show. Shame to see them deteriorating with rust. But they’re about to be put to good use very soon. There’s no way I have what is needed in my Jeep. Actually, a wrecking ball might be more in order than a carpenter.

  He had no idea what shape the apartments were going to be in, but at least he knew he now had the tools to do whatever was necessary. All Mark needed to do was clean them off, and he was in business. Even Hannah’s apartment needed some repairs but nothing outrageous from what he’d seen. Mostly fixing some floorboards, painting, and most important, locks. It was possible the others were in the same shape. If so, he was looking at a few weeks of work if he put in long days. Not that he wanted out of this place quickly, but he never let himself settle anywhere for very long.

  Mark continued exploring the shed. Her father had made great use of the space. Each cabinet he opened had more supplies than one could imagine. It was like her dad had his very own little hardware store tucked away in the boonies. There was everything from electrical and plumbing supplies to repair kits for walls and floors. He fished through as much as he could, hoping to find the one thing he wanted right now. A damn lock. Apparently, her father didn’t seem concerned about them either as there wasn’t a key or lock in sight. This is about to change.

  When he left the shed, he took a look at the door still leaning where he’d put it. He was tempted to pull out a hammer and start working right where he was. The tenant might be up, but waking Hannah at that hour on a Sunday probably wasn’t a great way to start their working relationship. There are much better ways to wake someone like Hannah.

  There was no way he was heading back to the house with those thoughts in his mind. He wanted her. Who wouldn’t? But Mark knew how to exercise self-control, and acting on sexual attraction for anything but short-term was a little like getting drunk—something to avoid. She was twenty-eight, and he was ten years her senior. Besides, she was not the type of woman he would hook up with. No matter how hard she tried to make him believe she was tough and fearless, he saw right through it. When he spoke about the door and her safety, he knew she not only needed someone to take care of her but yearned for it. Problem being, he was here but not for long. He would fix her home, make it secure, but he was not going to allow either of them to cross the line to anything other than that. She was already carrying pain; he didn’t need to add to it.

  Hannah normally slept like a log until a few weeks ago. Then she was tormented by something in her dreams, but couldn’t remember what. It was frustrating waking each morning still tired from the night before and have no idea why. But last night she’d tossed and turned almost all night and her eyes barely closed. She tried telling herself it was the large iced coffee she drank that afternoon that kept her awake, but she knew better. It had been a long time since she’d been attracted to a man the way she was to Mark. He needed a haircut and a shave, but his body? That needed no improvement.

  Having him stay in her apartment made the most sense as it was the most habitable. Giving him the apartment across from her that didn’t have a working bathroom wasn’t hospitable. So this was it. She’d need to hide the fact that she was melting inside each time he spoke. His voice is so deep, so rich . . . sultry even. He was here to do a job. And more importantly than her foolish lusty attraction, she needed him to do the job. Without him, she was going to lose the house to the bank. She only had a three month extension until they would come and put locks on the doors, and she wouldn’t have a key. There was no way she’d let what her father had worked so hard to keep slip through her fingers. Getting involved with Mark in any way other than what repairs were needed was going to jeopardize that.

  What’s another few months of sexless living? It’s already been years. I know it was sometime before I came home to care for Dad. Once I was here there was no time for a social life even if I wanted one. Maybe that’s all it is with Mark. It’s simply been too long.

  Hannah opened her door and listened for any sound coming from his room. When she heard silence, she left the confines of her room and made her way to the kitchen. She’d spent the last hour watching the hands on the clock slowly move. Another minute in there and she was going to go crazy. She’d never lived alone until her father passed away. Her freshman year she shared a dorm room with her best friend, Bailey Tasca, and after that they decided to get their own apartment not from their school in Providence. Those had been some of the best times of her life. There was so much to do that she never sat home bored. You could go to a museum during the day and dance at a club that night. Things were open seven days a week.

  Growing up with just her father in the house had been special, but she’d yearned for a female to be close to. Neighbors were not within walking distance, so the only time she saw her friends was at school. Funny how that was exactly what happened when she became an adult, she’d made a lifelong friend.

  Thankfully Bailey still kept in contact. She’d even come down and stayed a week when her father died. She’d promised to go and visit her, but somehow things never worked out. At first, it was because she couldn’t bring herself to be around anyone quite so happy all the time. And then it was because she didn’t have the money to go. Bailey offered to pay her flight because she had a huge comedy improv competition coming up, but Hannah couldn’t, or more accurately wouldn’t, take a handout. It was bad enough she wasn’t paying Mark anything close to what any other contractor would get paid. I can only pay him what I make. And that’s not much.

  As she poured herself a cup of coffee, she wondered why he was doing it. When she thought he was a retired man looking for work it seemed logical, but now it made no sense. Even if he’s out of work, what I’m paying is barely enough for a person to buy groceries, never mind put a roof over his head. What’s your story, Mark Collins? I know you have one. I might just need to break my own rules about minding my own business and ask some questions. After all, you are staying in my house.

  As she went to sit down, she thought about heading back to her bedroom to have her coffee. Her robe was hanging on the back of the bathroom door and going out in her cami and pajama shorts wasn’t the most modest thing to do, but it was better than the alternative. If she went for the robe, she knew the creaking of the bathroom door would surely wake Mark. She had no idea how late he liked to sleep, but she was a morning person. Like clockwork she got up, grabbed her coffee, and sat on the porch watching the sunrise with the birds.

  With coffee in hand, she left her apartment and went to her favorite rocker. A book she’d been trying to read for the last month was on the table beside her, but once again she couldn’t bring herself to open it. A love story only reminded her that happily ever after was not for her. I should start reading mysteries. Maybe then I’ll start being paranoi
d like Mark. Hannah laughed to herself.

  “Someone is happy this morning.”

  His deep voice startled her. Because she didn’t want to attract bugs, she’d left the porch light off. Now she could hear but not see him. Had he been there watching her all this time? No. If I can’t see him, then he can’t see me. No need to be self-conscious. I just need to go in the house before him and book it to my room.

  “Yes, I am. Have a good day, Mr. Collins.” She got off her rocking chair and headed for the door. Before she could open it, he spoke again.

  “Pink suits you.”

  Damn. Hannah grabbed the doorknob, pulled it open, and quickly went inside. She might not be able to see him, but clearly, he could see her.

  When she got to her bedroom, she slammed the door shut. Maybe Mark was right. I should’ve asked a lot more questions before letting him into my house. He obviously doesn’t understand how to respect someone’s privacy. God, he could’ve turned and looked the other way. But no. He watched me. Why?

  Hannah pulled a pair of jeans over her shorts and a T-shirt over her cami. She didn’t even take time to brush her hair. All she wanted to do right now was give him a piece of her mind.

  She opened her door and headed back to the porch. This time she turned on the light. She wanted to meet his eyes when she told him what a creepy thing that was to do. When she got to the porch, he was sitting at the far end in what was her father’s favorite spot. Her growing anger choked in her throat at the sight. All she could picture was her father sitting there. Yelling at Mark in that seat wasn’t something she could do.

  “Mr. Collins, I would like to speak to you in the kitchen.” She didn’t wait for a response and left him alone on the porch. If he didn’t follow her then she knew no matter how badly she needed him here to do the work, she would send him packing today.

  As she stood in the kitchen, she realized she’d been holding her breath until he entered.