The July Guy

by Natasha Moore

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover more August titles… Knocked-Up Cinderella

  What Were You Thinking, Paige Taylor?

  Adventures in Online Dating

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Natasha Moore. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  rights@entangledpublishing.com

  August is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Wendy Chen and Heidi Shoham

  Cover design by Bree Archer

  Cover photography from iStock

  ISBN 978-1-64063-689-7

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition October 2018

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

  xoxo

  Liz Pelletier, Publisher

  To Linda McCray. My friend since disco was king. We raised our kids together. Traveled with our guys. Drank a lot of wine. And laughed a lot. While you were fighting the battle of your life, you let me ramble on about this book idea I had. We bounced ideas back and forth and we continued to laugh a lot. The July Guy wouldn’t be the same story without you. I miss you every day.

  Chapter One

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this!”

  Word traveled fast in a small town. The space behind the counter of Colburn and Sons Salvage normally felt roomy to Noah Colburn, but not at this moment. And being a foot taller and eighty pounds heavier didn’t seem to matter at all when his mother, Donna Colburn, got up in his face. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking someone needed to step up and do something.”

  “But mayor?”

  Noah crossed his arms. “Some mothers would be proud for their son to be elected mayor.”

  “I would if you wanted to get involved in politics. But I know my oldest son. You don’t want to run for mayor.”

  “Someone has to go up against Ethan Bradford and his entitled cronies. You taught me it’s our responsibility to step in wherever we’re needed.” Mom and Pop had always made it clear he was expected to step in.

  “But we need you here.” His parents had started the salvage business before he was born. It was pretty much their life. It had kept a roof over their heads and put his brothers through college. Noah had gradually taken over more and more of the responsibilities of running the family business. Now that Pop couldn’t, it was up to him. The oldest child got stuck with everything.

  Not that he was stuck. Of course not. He was happy to do it. Really.

  “You don’t have time to be mayor,” his mom went on.

  “Isn’t your favorite saying that if you want something done, you should ask a busy person?”

  His mom narrowed her eyes. “Someone asked you to run. Who was it?”

  Oh no, he wasn’t going there. “It doesn’t matter. Henry Brown had his heart attack. Ethan threw his hat into the ring almost before the word was out that Henry was stepping down. We can’t let him take over the office without a fight.”

  “You’ve always been the calm and steady one of my boys. Carter and Beckett were the scrappers. I’ve never known you to fight.”

  “Noah! Did you see Facebook this morning?” His cousin, Ginny, burst out of the back, her phone in hand. “Your candidacy declaration is up to three hundred likes!”

  “You posted it to Facebook?”

  “To the village page, yeah. How else will anyone know you’re taking on Ethan Bradford?”

  “You mean I don’t have to have posters printed and go door-to-door?” he asked wryly. “I only have to type a few lines on Facebook?”

  “You have to do it all. Do you need a campaign manager? I can manage your campaign. I’d be good at it.”

  He hadn’t even thought about it yet. Ginny handled the website and advertising for the business. She’d probably do a great job. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  His mother rolled her eyes.

  “I’m taking a small crew out to the old Packard property, Mom. I won’t let this mayoral thing affect the business. But maybe you’d want to see if those scrappers of yours could help out a little more with the business end and not only with the fun stuff.”

  The fun stuff. Noah didn’t get out to the job sites as often as he would like to anymore. It would feel good to swing a hammer or heave on a crowbar today. He’d never planned on spending so much time in the office. But Pop’s stroke meant Noah had even more weight on his shoulders. Colburn and Sons Salvage had to keep roofs over more heads, pay for more college educations, including his two daughters’. It was up to him to make sure the business continued to thrive.

  If the other mayoral candidate had his way, village policies would soon be favoring the property owners wealthy enough to afford the expensive lakefront homes, most of whom were only summer residents. And Ethan Bradford was already promising to tighten the regulations for many of the small businesses, like service stations and salvage yards, that didn’t fit in with the elite, classy vibe he thought their village should project.

  Noah strode through the workshop, where a couple of their guys were cutting some boards they’d rescued from an old Victorian home in Buffalo. The gorgeous oak would soon be part of a coffee table he’d designed. They’d display it in the showroom, and he was sure it would sell quickly. Wiry hair stuck out in bunches beneath Jimmy’s protective eye and hearing gear. Sawdust clung to the sweat on Pete’s bald head.

  No one ever said the salvage business was glamorous. Or classy.

  They paused as he approached, the whine of the saw dying. He nodded to them on his way out back. “Looking good, guys.”

  They flashed thumbs-up to him before the screech of the saw resumed.

  Louis and Todd jumped into the cab of the truck with him. They were both in their early twenties, and some days he felt ancient when they worked rings around him. Louis had worked for them since Noah got out of high school. Todd was a new hire and still needed guidance. Normally, the job ahead would be at the forefront of Noah’s mind as he drove to a job site, but today, the enormity of what he’d agreed to take on overshadowed the salvage plan for the day. His mom was right. He really didn’t want to take on this campaign.

  What did he know about running for public office? Nothing. But while he dreaded the networking and all the ways he might have to try to drum up support, there was a tiny part of him that was excited. All his life, he’d been one of the Colburn sons. He’d been a husband and then an ex. He was the father of two wonderful daughters.

&nbs
p; But who was Noah Colburn, the man? It was pretty sad that he was approaching forty-five and he still didn’t know.

  Maybe he was a crusader. A spokesman for the common man. A protector of life as he knew it.

  With his mind taken up with thoughts of a mayoral crusade, he didn’t notice the little red convertible barreling toward him until it was too late. He’d already started to turn the box truck left onto the lower lake road, heading for the job site. The brakes of the oncoming Mini squealed, and the driver lay on the horn as the car stopped inches from the truck’s rear wheels.

  “Sorry!” Noah shouted out the window. His stomach dropped. That had been stupid. He wasn’t normally stupid. He had to keep his mind on what he was doing. No more distractions.

  The convertible turned and followed him down the narrow road. From the side mirror, he could see a woman was driving, her long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and streaming behind her. He couldn’t make out her expression, but she kept right on his tail. He hoped this wasn’t going to turn into some kind of road-rage incident.

  They drove past dozens of houses, some that had been there over a hundred years. Some were ostentatious, some cozy and humble. He slowed as they reached their destination, a neglected lake cottage with ornate porch railings and some beautiful moldings, windows, and light fixtures. Today, he and his crew were going to get them out of there before demolition started.

  He pulled the truck into the drive and noticed the red convertible pulled into the driveway of the Swanson house next door. Noah jumped out of the cab and met Louis and Todd at the back of the truck. He grabbed the chainsaw, and the guys pulled out the tool belts. Before he got any farther, Todd looked past him. “Um, boss?”

  Noah turned, and the breath whooshed from his lungs.

  Gorgeous dark eyes snapped in a breathtaking face. Long legs ate up the few hundred feet of pavement between driveways. The Mini’s driver had a polish about her, even with the windblown hair that had been torn from the ponytail. The strands flying around her face made him think of wild sex on twisted sheets. She wore loose purple pants and a soft white shirt that highlighted all that was wonderful about a woman’s body. Long silver earrings caught the sunlight.

  Her eyes met his in a steady gaze, and one corner of her lips lifted slightly as if she was used to men being struck dumb when they laid eyes on her for the first time. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers along the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. She stopped only inches in front of him on the gravel driveway.

  She didn’t lay into him. In fact, she didn’t look angry at all. She looked amazing.

  “Boss?”

  Noah blinked. Snap out of it. How long had they been standing there staring at each other? Her laugh lines and knowing gaze made him think she might be in her forties, like he was. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about turning in front of your car. My mind was on something else. And that’s a terrible excuse, I know.”

  She glanced down to the chainsaw in his hand and lifted a brow. “I hope you pay more attention when you’re driving that thing.”

  He chuckled.

  There was that slight smile again. “Luckily, my mind was on what I was doing. My heart’s still pounding, though.”

  His was still pounding, too, and it had nothing to do with their close call on the road.

  “I apologize again.”

  “Apology accepted.” She stepped to the side to read the logo on the truck. “So are you Colburn or one of the sons?”

  He set down the chainsaw and wiped his palms on his jeans before offering his hand. “One of the sons. Noah Colburn.”

  “And he’s running for mayor now, too,” Todd blurted.

  Noah rolled his eyes. Todd was like a big puppy dog, always trying to please but not often succeeding.

  “A future mayor. I’m impressed.” She lifted a brow and slipped her hand in his. Firm. Warm. “Anita Delgado.”

  Louis cleared his throat, and Noah dropped her hand, suddenly aware of how long he’d been holding it. “We’ll take the tools inside and get started,” Louis told him.

  Noah dragged his gaze away and glanced at the guys. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’ll let you get to work. Just wanted you to know there were no hard feelings.” Anita Delgado took a step away. “It was nice meeting you. Good luck with your mayoral campaign.”

  He didn’t want to let her go yet. He let his gaze bounce to her car sitting in the driveway next door. “Did you know Aggie Swanson?”

  “Not at all.” After a small sigh, she added, “She was my grandmother.”

  “I liked Aggie.” She’d been rude and prickly, but he’d enjoyed her dry sense of humor. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  A shadow ghosted over her face. “Yeah, well.” She glanced at the truck again. “Do you know Carter Colburn? He’s an attorney?”

  “That’s my brother.” Carter had gotten his law degree and opened a practice in Lakeside. He still helped with the family business when he could, which wasn’t all that often.

  “I have an appointment with him in…” She glanced at a fancy watch hidden among a stack of silver bangles. “Less than an hour. To get the keys.”

  “If you need help with anything, we’ll be working over here all day. Just ask.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is her house in that bad a shape?”

  Noah had no idea. He’d love to get in there to take a look. “Did you know it’s one of the oldest houses in Lakeside? It could be an amazing house again with a little bit of work.” He’d love to get his hands on it. “Are you going to live here?”

  Just because he wondered didn’t mean the question should have been spoken out loud.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Well, I’ll be here for the month. To do what needs to be done before I can sell it.”

  She was going to sell it.

  And why the hell did a wave of sorrow almost knock him off his feet? As if he’d missed out on something he didn’t even know he’d wanted. Maybe the best thing he’d never have.

  This is ridiculous.

  A quick glance at her left hand showed a bare ring finger, but she could still have a man waiting for her at home. Probably had a man waiting for her wherever home was. How could a woman like this not have men falling all over themselves for her attention?

  And none of that was the point of this conversation. Get a grip! He didn’t want her to sell the house. At least, not yet. Not in the shape it was in now. Could he convince her to let him restore it? He’d hate to see it go the way of the house they were salvaging today.

  But standing on the side of the road was not the time to have that conversation.

  She walked around the truck to look at the Packard house. Her hips swayed in a way that made his body stir. Her sharp scent wound around him as he followed in her wake. What was going on? He hadn’t been affected so strongly by a stranger in…well…ever.

  “What are you doing with that house?”

  “We’re a salvage company. We’re getting out as many architectural details as we can before the house is demolished. Saving them for future use.”

  “It’s a shame it’s going to be torn down.”

  Noah shrugged, but he agreed. Ethan Bradford was buying up properties left and right. He was tearing down the old houses and building new ones few of the locals could afford. Noah was grateful Colburn and Sons was able to get in there and save what they could, but he sure didn’t want someone with the out-with-the-old, in-with-the-new philosophy controlling their village for the next four years.

  “The new owner wants something up-to-date. Something bigger. It happens all the time. The best we can do is save as much of the good stuff as we can.”

  “I think that’s wonderful,” Anita told him. “There was so much care put into old construction. So much craftsmanship. Those leaded glass windows. Gingerbread. We don’t often see much of that pride in new construction these days, do we?”

  She had a musical cadence to her voice tha
t made him want to listen to her all day long. And when had he ever given much thought to someone’s voice before? But he’d keep her talking as long as he could. To build a rapport, that’s all.

  “You sound like you know your way around architecture.”

  She shrugged. “I studied a little back in college. I’m an art professor in Philadelphia.”

  She taught at a university, and all he had was a high school diploma. He’d been up to his ears in the family business by the time he graduated from Lakeside High. His brothers were the ones who’d gotten to go to college.

  “What do you do with the things you salvage?”

  “Sell them. Luckily, there are plenty of people who do respect the old details and incorporate them into their new builds and remodels. And what we don’t sell as is, we repurpose and put in our showroom.”

  “I’ll have to check it out while I’m here.”

  She sounded as if she appreciated old houses and their history. That was promising. Surely she’d want her grandmother’s house to be polished to perfection before she sold it. And maybe when she saw how beautiful it could be, she’d want to keep it.

  “Boss?” Noah held back the groan that came with a flash of irritation. It was Todd again. The kid sounded like a broken record. He couldn’t do anything on his own yet.

  Noah would have liked to spend more time out here talking. “I’ve got to get to work. It was nice meeting you, Anita Delgado.” He pulled a card out of his pocket. “Our address is on there if you want to stop by the showroom. My number’s on there, too, if you need anything. I’m pretty good with my hands.” He choked and his face grew warm. “And I usually think before I speak.”

  “Thinking first is overrated.” She had a throaty laugh that made him want to hear it again. “It was nice meeting you, too. Noah.” Their fingers brushed as she took the card, and he felt like a teenager again, savoring the shock of that accidental touch. Their eyes met again with another kick to his senses before she turned back toward Aggie’s house.

  Her house. Anita.

  Noah watched her walk away. Her long ponytail swished in a gentle rhythm. His guys called for him again. He picked up the chainsaw and headed for the house, but he couldn’t resist glancing back for one more look at Anita Delgado.