Chase started laughing. “What happened?”
“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Ashlee said with just enough sass to earn another irritated look from Beau.
“Why, did you push him?” Chase snickered.
“No, but I wish I had.” Chase grinned and opened his mouth, but Ashlee wasn’t in the mood for any of her brother’s teasing remarks. “And don’t say another word or you’ll be next.”
Done being humiliated, she turned and marched away. Just as she opened the door, she heard her brother say, “She is a handful.”
If Beau made a reply, she didn’t bother listening. Nor did she care what he had to say. If he wanted to forget about what had happened, so did she.
Chapter 6
No matter how hard Beau tried to forget about what had happened with Ashlee the night before, he couldn’t. Not even running four miles had done the job. Using the edge of his T-shirt, he wiped the sweat from his forehead as he finished the last leg of his morning jog.
Okay, so maybe not thinking about it was his problem. He took a minute to analyze the evening, starting with her stealing his piece of pie right up until he’d fallen into the pool. Sure, she was beautiful. And she’d grown up in the past six years. He just hadn’t been prepared for it.
So, his reaction to her had been a fluke. He was not attracted to his best friend’s little sister. He wasn’t. He’d just been so surprised to find she wasn’t a teenager anymore that it had thrown him off his game a little. Well, more than a little since he’d inadvertently fallen into the pool.
He sprinted the last few yards as if he could outrun the guilt for nearly kissing her. That had been a fluke too. He had been trying to comfort her as a friend… and then the next thing he knew she was looking up at him with those incredible blue eyes.
It was messed up. No, he was messed up. He’d started to explain to Chase what had happened before falling into the pool, but his friend just blew it off as Ashlee’s long-time crush on Beau. The guy had even apologized for his sister. Beau had remained silent after that, but he owed Ashlee an apology.
Slowing his pace, he squinted against the morning sun as his nana’s house came into view. Coming to a rest, he tried to catch his breath as he admired the way the rising sun illuminated the Victorian architecture of the house built by his great-great-great granddaddy shortly before the Civil War.
Beau loved this house and had many fond memories of staying here as a child while his parents traveled for their jobs. It became his permanent home when his parents divorced his freshman year in high school. He’d been given the choice to move to Florida with his mama or to Alabama with his daddy. He hadn’t wanted either option, which had created a lot of contention in their already contentious family. That’s when his grandparents had stepped in and invited him to live with them.
Leaning over, he stretched his hamstrings. While he enjoyed running outside, he usually added weightlifting to his morning PT. Since Nana didn’t own any equipment, Beau would have to see about getting a temporary membership at the local gym.
He straightened up and surveyed the land surrounding his grandparents’ property, saddened it would no longer be farmed by Mr. Linford. The old man had passed away just before the new year, and his children weren’t interested in carrying on his legacy. The property had been rezoned for single family dwellings, and a For Sale sign had been put up a few weeks ago.
The realtor Nana hired to sell her house said he already had a buyer interested in the Linford property and that he’d likely want to purchase her house as well. After doing some digging, Beau discovered the interested party was Andrew Fredrickson, a real estate and developer mogul out of Macon. He was known for his ability to squeeze as many houses as possible onto a plot of land.
The muscles in Beau’s shoulders tensed when he thought about what Mr. Fredrickson would do to his grandparents’ house. Although it was protected by the county as a historical site, Mr. Fredrickson had “accidentally” demolished other historical buildings while developing the surrounding property. Mr. Fredrickson would then apologize profusely, pay an exorbitant fine and then proceeded to make millions with cookie cutter houses that didn’t reflect any of the charm of the house he’d destroyed.
Beau wished he were in a position to purchase the property himself. The whole reason he’d become an architect was because of his love of old houses. He’d wanted to specialize in restoring and remodeling historical homes.
That had been his goal when he’d graduated with his architectural degree, but he didn’t have the funds to start his own business then. His granddaddy had passed away a few months before graduation, and Beau took the first job offered to him to ensure he wasn’t a burden to Nana.
He’d started working for a large commercial firm with the intention of moving on to the restoration of old homes, but it never happened. He’d had student loans to pay off and adult responsibilities. Plus, being in the band took up a lot of his extra time. Then his Nana had remarried. Beau and her new husband, Tom, didn’t get along very well, so Beau bought a condo and moved out.
Life had been okay. He’d had a good job, but he knew the bands’ days were numbered. The thought of not being part of the band had bothered Beau. It was like once they disbanded he would be stuck in his current job forever. About the same time Chase met his wife, Beau had overheard someone at his firm talking about how the military needed architects. Beau had never been the impulsive type. He usually took a lot of time listing the pros and cons before he made a decision. But for some reason, joining the Army sounded like a good idea to him. He met with a recruiter and signed up a few days later before he could talk himself out of it.
He hadn’t regretted it until the last two years. Shortly after re-upping for another two-years, his nana became a widow for the second time. Beau hated that he couldn’t just leave and come home to take care of her. Not that she needed him to take care of her, but he hated the thought of her living in the big house by herself.
As he climbed the porch, he grimaced at the condition of it. Hopefully, Mr. Dearden, the contractor he’d hired, would still be able to start today. He’d texted Beau this morning and said another project he was working on in Macon may delay him a day or two.
Beau was anxious to meet the man in person. They’d been emailing back and forth, as well as text messaging. He’d come highly recommended by the real estate agent set to handle the sale of the property. Beau didn’t want just anyone working on the house. Most of the contractors he’d looked in to seldom took the time to keep the integrity of the house.
While Mr. Dearden and his crew worked on the wraparound porch, Beau and a few of the men would work on the back porch. Originally, there had been a screened-in porch, but it had been destroyed by the weather over time. Beau had come up with a design that would fit with the house and planned to complete it before putting the house on the market.
He twisted the doorknob and met resistance when he tried opening the door. No wonder Nana had told him to use the side door to enter the house. Putting his shoulder against the surface, he forced the door open and winced when he heard it scrape against the wood floor.
Crouching down, he was relieved to see only a faint scratch. He ran his hand along the bottom of the door and felt where the wood had warped over the years. Hopefully it could be fixed without having to replace the beautiful door.
After carefully closing the door, he flipped the light switch on, flooding the entryway with light. Beau took a moment to appreciate the space, marveling at the intricate architectural lines that hadn’t been designed with a computer program. His Jacobsen ancestor had hand-drawn the plans without any kind of education.
Emotions tightened his gut as he thought about putting the house on the market. He wanted to buy it, but he didn’t have the resources to purchase the house, or the surrounding property. It took money to develop that much land— money he didn’t have.
Although Nana had hinted that she’d be willing to help him financial
ly, he couldn’t do that to her. The condo she’d purchased was unique, designed to see her through the aging process, while still maintaining her independence. This type of planned community was expensive, and Beau would never do anything to deprive his nana of the best care available if and when she needed it.
He couldn’t ever imagine his feisty grandmother as feeble, but he knew it would happen one day. He was grateful for her good health and knew she was having the time of her life doing activities with people her age. It was pretty sad to say that his grandmother had more of a social life than he did.
Before taking a shower, Beau decided to check out the garage. Detached from the house, the structure still looked the same as it had always looked. He’d spent countless hours in this garage with his granddaddy, working on old cars and motorcycles.
The last thing they’d been working on together before his granddaddy passed away had been a 1946 Indian Chief motorcycle. Beau’s nana had gifted the bike to him the following year for Christmas. Slowly, over the years, Beau had finished most of the restoration. He only had a few things left to do before he could take it for a test drive.
Producing the key to the large padlock on the door, he inserted it and twisted until it popped open. The wheels sounded rusty as he lifted the single garage door by hand. A new door was supposed to be delivered today, along with lumber to repair the wraparound porch and railing. While the upgrades were necessary, Beau felt like part of his childhood would be forever gone.
Dust beams danced in the morning sunlight as he looked around the space he’d spent so much time in as a teenager. The shelves still housed bottles of oil, transmission fluid and other various vehicle maintenance items. He was pleased to see Granddaddy’s tool chest in the back corner and hoped most of the tools were still in there. Tom’s children had wanted Nana to have a garage sale after their father passed away. They were happy to help Nana if they got fifty percent of the profit. Since almost everything in the garage belonged to Beau’s granddaddy, Nana had said no. Wisely, she’d put a lock on the door after she caught Tom’s youngest son rummaging through the tool chest. He claimed he was only going to borrow some of the tools, but Nana had watched him snap several pictures of each drawer and guessed he planned on finding out which tools were worth money on eBay.
The dust on the garage floor stirred as Beau walked over to the corner opposite the tool chest to uncover the motorcycle. He hadn’t been home for a while and was anxious to see the bike again. Carefully, he removed the protective cover made specifically for the motorbike and sneezed from the cloud of dust.
He’d almost forgotten how beautiful it was. The combination of the sky blue and white tank, along with all the shiny chrome was something both he and his granddaddy had loved about the motorcycle. It would look even better once he replaced the back tire and then added the blue and white skirted fenders. He’d ordered them a while ago, but the company had gotten the color wrong. The new ones would be arriving in Atlanta sometime next week.
Beau heard the rumble of a truck’s engine, and he turned to see that the contractor’s scheduled delivery from the local hardware store was on time. Putting the cover back over the motorcycle, he exited the garage and pulled the door shut.
The truck rolled to a stop, and the driver stuck his head out the window. “You expectin’ a delivery?” the older gentleman said.
“Yes, sir.”
Beau watched as two other men climbed out of the truck and went around to the back to begin unloading the lumber slated for the porch and deck, as well as the new garage door.
The driver introduced himself as Jasper Wilson and handed Beau the invoice to make sure they had everything correct. Beau glanced over the paper and then signed his name to accept the delivery.
He and Jasper went around to the other side to help the two other men and had the truck emptied in no time.
“You doin’ the work all by yourself?” Jasper asked.
“I hope not.” He glanced at the pile of lumber and felt like the entire pallet rested on his shoulders. What would happen if the house wasn’t ready when it came time for him to move to Savannah? He didn’t want to cause his nana any worries. “The contractor was supposed to start today, but he’s been delayed.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Thank you.” Beau shook the man’s hand. “Have a good day.”
Beau waited until the truck was out of sight before he turned and walked over to his SUV to unload the empty storage bins and boxes he’d brought with him. Nana had already packed up what she wanted to keep with her at her new residence. The rest was going to Beau, which he could then decide to keep, sell or give away.
Most of the antique furniture left behind were pieces Beau planned to put in storage until he was ready to furnish a house. He also wanted to store collectable knickknacks that, while they may fetch a good price on eBay, held sentimental value to him. He wasn’t sure what to do with everything else. Probably give it to Goodwill.
He started for the house, not sure if he was ready to begin sorting through the contents of his bedroom. Once it was cleaned out, he knew it would be the final step to saying goodbye to his grandparents’ house and his life in Mitchel Creek.
Beau carried the storage boxes up to the second floor. Opening the door to his bedroom, he paused for a moment and took it all in again. Nana had left everything exactly the same way it had been while he was in school.
Posters of his favorite music artists hung on the wall, alongside pictures of their band, Chasing Dreams. There were also a few dance pictures with Beau looking pretty good in a tux, sporting his newly shaved head. Setting the storage boxes down, he rubbed a hand through his hair. He didn’t miss shaving his head. He also didn’t miss all the drama some of his dates had caused.
Knowing he needed to get as much done as he could, he rummaged through the duffle bag on top of his bed and found his portable Bluetooth speaker. After linking it to his phone, he opened his playlist and got to work.
Although part of him was tempted to roll up the posters, he knew he’d never hang them up again. It was hard throwing things out, but soon he had a pattern to his organizing. After asking himself if he’d ever use it again, he would then determine if it was trash or something to sell or giveaway.
By the time lunch rolled around, he’d finished with his room. All that remained was the bedroom set his parents had gifted him when he’d moved in with his grandparents. It was expensive furniture, but it wasn’t something he’d want in his own house. It had never really fit in his grandparents’ house. Beau liked old things, like antiques. His parents hadn’t agreed on much, but their decorating tastes had always been the same. Contemporary and shiny.
Feeling cooped up, Beau decided he’d spend the rest of the day working on his motorcycle. He’d tackle the attic first thing in the morning. Snagging his phone from the desk, he hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. Since he hadn’t gone shopping for groceries yet, there wasn’t much to eat. He settled for peanut butter crackers and an apple.
While eating his meager noon meal, he opened up the latest text message from the contractor. Mr. Dearden apologized for not showing up today and promised to have a crew at the house first thing in the morning. He typed a quick reply, thanking him for the update, and then grabbed a bottle of water before heading out to the garage.
Stepping outside, he shielded his eyes from the noon sun and was grateful for the slight breeze. The day had warmed up to seventy-nine degrees, which was fairly average for mid-April. The garage wasn’t too hot, thanks to the shade from the live oak tree that flanked one side of the garage.
Beau removed the vinyl cover from the motorcycle and ran his hand over the tan-colored leather seat. It had been the last improvement he’d done before leaving for basic training. He fingered the fringes hanging down, wishing his granddaddy was alive to see the completion of the bike.
The new back wheel had been delivered by UPS the day before. Beau gathered up the correct tools he’d need
to remove the old one and crouched down to get to work. With the music blaring, he didn’t hear the approaching car and dropped the wrench when Chase honked the horn. Turning off the music, he got to his feet and waved as Chase climbed out of the car.
“Hey, the bike’s lookin’ good,” Chase said.
“Thanks, I should have it ready to ride next week.” Beau grabbed a towel and wiped at the grease staining his fingers. “What’re you up to?”
“Not much.” He gave Beau a fist bump. “My daddy has been at the office all day and there are way too many girls at the house.”
The first thing that popped into Beau’s mind was that Ashlee was one of those girls. The mere memory of her wearing that form-fitting dress that matched the color of her eyes made his pulse jump.
He dropped the rag on the garage floor, wishing he could discard his screwed-up reaction to Chase’s baby sister just as easily. “I could use some help replacing the back wheel.” He held out his grease-stained hands and grinned. “Getting your hands dirty might make you feel more like a man.”
Chase laughed. “Bring it on.” He walked over to the bike. “But after we’re done, I’m supposed to bring you home for supper. Mama didn’t get a chance to talk to you much last night, and she wants to hear all about your life for the past six years.”
“I’d hate to bore her to death.”
“Izzy was asking for you too.” Chase glanced up and smiled. “What is with you and the Nichols’ women? First Ashlee is obsessed with you and now my daughter.”
“They’re both too young for me.”
“Tell that to my wife,” Chase said, standing up to rummage through the sockets. “She says the age difference between you and Ashlee isn’t that big of a deal now that she’s an adult.”
Beau eyed his friend curiously. Was Chase here on a scouting mission or was he just making conversation?
“Sorry, bro,” Chase said crouching back down, “but I think my baby sister still has the hots for you.”
Blue Moon Kisses: Georgia Moon Romance Book 3 Page 6
