SEALs of Summer: Military Romance Superbundle - Navy SEAL Style Page 41

  “This section of the porch seems strong enough. I don’t know what happened over there.” Most likely a support had rotted out. He moved to the front door and tried the knob. It was locked, but when he checked the mailbox he found the key. He hoped against hope the house hadn’t been defiled inside by bored teenagers or petty criminals. When they entered the foyer, he was relieved to find it intact.

  He tried the light switch beside the door and let out the breath he was holding when the electricity worked. A small, plain fixture in the center of the ceiling lit the room. Well, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. His anger ratcheted down a notch. He noticed Regan was frowning. “What is it?”

  “I might as well admit I’m a renovation snob.” She pointed at the light. “That’s not even remotely accurate for the time period this house was built.”

  Mason shook his head. “It works, doesn’t it?” She had no idea what a relief that was. If they’d had to re-wire the Hall, they’d be set back so far they’d never catch up again. As it was, his to-do list for getting the ranch in order was growing by leaps and bounds. He led the way into the room on the left, a formal dining room with wainscoting on the lower half of the walls. Nothing damaged in here, either, although the beautiful oak table and chairs they’d had when he was a child were gone. He swallowed against another surge of anger. Had Uncle Ezekiel sold all the furnishings? He hadn’t budgeted for that, either.

  Regan ran a hand over the white-painted wainscoting. She still looked troubled. He raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. “This paneling—look how thick the layers of paint on it are. It makes it look clumsy and I bet it was beautiful at one point.”

  Mason had never noticed the paint—it had always been like that, even in his childhood. Instead, he pictured his boisterous family crowded around the dining room table. When they roared with laughter, the old chandelier had shook and tinkled. The chandelier was gone—only dangling wires to show where it had been. “It’s an old house, honey. Things have gotten painted a few times.” He fought to keep his anger out of his voice. He wasn’t mad at her, but he was furious with Zeke for vandalizing the home his family had loved. And worried about what else they would find. If Zeke hadn’t cared for the house, what else hadn’t he cared for?

  “This is a beautiful house,” she said fiercely. “Or it could be if anyone showed it any love.”

  Mason was taken aback by her vehemence, but before he could tell her that ranching didn’t leave much time for interior decorating, she said, “It’s just… I love old houses. Actually, I love all houses. They’re a passion of mine. That’s why when I got into finance, I ended up in loans. I love helping people qualify to buy their dream home. They always bring in the sales sheets they get from the realtor, and I get to see the photos and find out how many bedrooms and baths the house has, stuff like that. I have a whole folder of decorating ideas I’ve torn out of magazines over the years. The Hall is beautiful, Mason. It’s exquisite. With the right care and renovations, it could be a show-stopper.”

  Mason softened. The Hall was already working its magic on her. Regan cared about the treatment it had received. She wanted to put it right. That meant she could picture herself living here, which meant she could see herself living with him. If she could look past its present state to see what it could be, that showed she was the kind of woman he’d hoped she was. He knew every nook and cranny—all the house’s secrets. The knowledge that Regan could feel about it the way he did warmed his heart.

  But what would they do for furniture? And what if Zeke had treated the barn, stables and other ranch buildings the same way he’d treated the Hall?

  “Is that the kitchen?” Regan led the way through a connecting room into the big old-fashioned kitchen at the back of the house. More memories assailed Mason. An old woodstove dominated one of the back corners of the room. The other back corner had a door leading outside. There were the usual kitchen appliances, although these were hopelessly out of date.

  This was where his father would dance with his mother as if no one else was looking. She loved to listen to music while she cooked the evening meal and even if she’d spent the day mucking about in the barns or with the cattle, she always took the time to spiff up for her husband before supper. He’d kiss her soundly on his way to the shower and by the time he came downstairs again he’d be fit to sit at her dining room table. Mason realized it was in these little gestures that his parents showed their love for each other.

  Mason shook off the past and peered out the window, trying to assess the bunkhouse and barn from here. Neither building gave anything away at this distance, though.

  “My grandmother had a refrigerator like this.” Regan crossed to peer inside it. “I’m amazed this one still works.”

  “We might need to do some updating in here,” Mason admitted. He had no idea how they were going to pay for that. Worry overtook him again.

  “We don’t have to update the refrigerator if it still works right. It’s so retro. And I love this island.” Regan moved to the large, rectangular butcher block island with cabinets underneath. “With a new stove this could be a wonderful kitchen. Oh, look at the view.” She moved to stand beside him. Mason’s mother had always complained that you couldn’t see the mountains from this angle, but Regan was right; it was still pretty. He needed to get a good look at that barn, though, before he could appreciate details like that.

  First things first; they’d finish touring the house. Another doorway led to a small hall with a tiny bathroom and laundry room off it, plus stairs down to the basement. Mason kept practicing his deep breathing as they passed by the shabby bathroom into the large living room. At one time this had been two rooms—a sitting room and a library—but his parents had combined the two to make a bigger space and Mason thought they’d done a good job. The room was spacious, yet comfortable, with a huge river rock fireplace topped with a thick wooden mantle. The back windows showed the view down to Chance Creek in the distance and the mountains far beyond.

  “Now this is impressive.” Regan spun in a circle to take it in.

  It was, except for another broken window. Mason inspected the broken glass and the water stains on the hardwood floor in a semi-circle below it.

  A quick tour through the rest of the house showed them wall-paper peeling in three of the four large bedrooms on the second floor, water damage in two more rooms with broken windows, and extensive damage to the tile floor in one of the second story bathrooms where his uncle had apparently replaced an older toilet with a new one, and struggled in the process. Regan had winced at that particular room and Mason couldn’t blame her. The new toilet with its plastic seat and modern lines looked hideously out of place in the old-fashioned bathroom and his uncle hadn’t even attempted to fix the floor.

  Mason was too busy adding up the repair costs to care about the visuals, though. It was going to take money to make the house inhabitable by his brothers and their wives when they got married. Money they didn’t have.

  “How do you get to the third floor?” Regan asked when they’d seen all the bedrooms.

  “Through here.” He hoped Regan didn’t notice the curtness of his voice as he indicated a narrow door at the end of the hall which when opened revealed a narrow set of steps. He led the way up them, hoping they wouldn’t stumble on a colony of rats. It would be just his luck if they did.

  To his relief, the third floor was warm and musty, but there was no evidence of leaks from the roof. Doors led off to small bedrooms where once servants would have slept, and a much larger room at the end of the hall that had once been the nursery. The carpets were old and threadbare and the rooms so narrow they couldn’t house a queen sized bed, but Regan seemed interested in all the original details.

  “I hadn’t guessed you were so interested in interior design,” he said distractedly when she pointed out the old-fashioned windows.

  “Not so much interior design as the restoration of older properties. I used to go to open houses in the
older sections of the city and pretend I was a prospective buyer, just so I could look at the places.”

  “Why didn’t you buy anything?”

  “In New York City? I’d be in New Jersey before I could afford anything.”

  “How come you didn’t become an architect or something?”

  She shrugged. “Finance seemed like a safer bet.”

  “Life isn’t all about making safe choices.” He moved close enough to take her hand, the truth of that staring him right in the face. How on earth would he pull off a renovation of the Hall on top of everything else they had to do to beat Heloise’s deadlines? “Sometimes you have to make a leap of faith.”

  “I know,” she said. “But sometimes you have to be a realist.”

  Was she trying to send him a message? He sure hoped not.

  *

  Regan knew what Mason was trying to tell her; that she should take a chance on him. Maybe she should. Maybe she would, but first she needed to know more about what she was getting into. The Hall was beautiful structurally, but in its present state it resembled something out of a gothic horror novel. It would take hard work and lots of it—not to mention money—to fix the place up the way it should look.

  “We’ll have to go through the place and take notes on what needs to be fixed.” Mason held her hand when they started back down the narrow stairs, but his jaw was tight and she realized he hadn’t been prepared for what they’d seen. “We’ll need to estimate costs and prioritize the jobs. Purchasing cattle, horses and equipment take top priority. Without them, there’s no use fixing the house because we won’t have an income.”

  “Do you have a budget worked out?”

  “I have a ballpark idea of what we’ll need. Austin and Zane have told me what they can contribute. Colt has been a bit cagey.”

  “Why is that?” She followed him back downstairs to the front porch.

  “He wants to stay in the military. He’s not interested in coming home yet.”

  “Is that a problem?” She leaned against a post and crossed her arms over her chest. The sunshine felt good on her face.

  “It could be,” Mason admitted. “We could really use him.”

  “How much money do you have budgeted to fix the house?”

  “Not enough,” he said. “We’ll have to do it in stages. Tackle the roof and kitchen first, I’d say. Replace all the broken windows. Then take it step by step as we have the money.” He turned to her. “I’m sorry. The state of the house is probably rougher than you were expecting.”

  “It’s a challenge,” she said. “I like challenges.”

  “Do you?” His shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch and he tipped her chin to bring her mouth to his. His kiss was thorough and melted her insides until she had to put a hand on his chest to steady herself. “I should have played harder to get, huh?”

  “Probably.” She chuckled. “I never expected to be here with you, you know.”

  “I expected it. Right from the start.” His satisfied smile made her tingle all over. This handsome, strong warrior had set his sights on her and she loved being the object of his attention. Loved knowing how much he wanted her. Loved knowing he’d done whatever it took to get her here.

  “You’re amazing.” She reached up on tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Show me around outside.”

  “You’ve got it.” He led her down the steps and around to the back of the house, where they crossed the yard to a long low building he called the bunkhouse. Mason’s footsteps slowed as they approached the building and Regan could see why. More windows were broken and the door opened to his touch. Inside, the rooms were dark and bare.

  “Son of a bitch.” He glanced her way. “Sorry, Regan—Uncle Zeke stripped the whole damn place here, too.” Mason waved at the empty cupboards and counters in a room that should have been a kitchen. There was no refrigerator or stove, but there were spaces where they ought to be. He led the way to the opposite end of the building where a large room stood empty. “He sold the bunks, too. They were cast iron—original to the ranch.”

  Picking up his pace, he led the way back outside and over to a large barn. It too stood empty, with boards missing from its walls and a hayloft with a definite sway to it.

  “Damn him to hell.” Mason was off again, out the door and striding in the opposite direction of the house. Regan followed at a jog, her stomach in knots. When Mason stopped abruptly and threw his hands up in the air, she knew he’d found another disaster.

  “What is it?” she asked softly.

  He gestured at the field ahead of him. At the corners and long intervals stood wooden posts. In between them metal uprights were evenly spaced. Some were vertical. Others were angled and some had been knocked down altogether.

  She shook her head. “What’s it for?”

  He rounded on her. “It’s a pasture. Or it would be, if it had a fence around it. He stole the goddamned wire! Or someone else stole it. Must have sold it for scrap.” Mason’s hands were balled into fists, his frustration plain to see. “It will take weeks to fix all this. We haven’t even seen the stables yet.” He took off again. Regan followed him more slowly this time, the truth dawning on her. The state of the ranch was far worse than Mason had imagined. Maybe he and his brothers didn’t have the money it would take to fix it. What would happen then?

  When she caught up with him again he was pacing the length of a small outbuilding. Its purpose wasn’t apparent at first.

  “All the tools are gone. All of them. Do you have any idea—” He cut off when he saw her face. Dropped his hands. “I’m sorry. None of this is your fault. Damn it, I should have never brought you here.” He rubbed a hand over his buzz cut hair and she had the feeling he’d start to pull it out in another minute.

  “Of course you should have. If we’re going to make a life together we have to be able to face trouble together.”

  “But I didn’t mean for you to see it like this. I want you to love it here as much as I do.”

  She’d grown accustomed to Mason’s face, but now it was all hard angles. He was furious at what he’d found here. He was trying to hide it, but he wasn’t succeeding.

  “I do love it. I mean—” What did she mean? Just a week ago she would have said she was a city girl. She still wasn’t sure about ranching, but the Hall—it was a dream come true. “It’s beautiful here and I haven’t made my mind up yet, but I haven’t seen anything to dissuade me from staying, either. I’ll help you figure it out, whether I stay or go. I mean that.”

  His gaze searched her face. He nodded. “It’s just—I have a timeline. And now—”

  “A timeline?”

  He sagged back against what she now saw was a workbench. “I should have told you before. Inheriting the ranch is based on some contingencies. My brothers and I have to get the cattle operation up and running before a year is up. Heloise doesn’t expect us to turn a profit—it takes time to raise cattle—but we have to be able to carry a hundred pairs within twelve months. That means we need barns, pastures, stables for the horses, equipment to get in crops to feed to the animals over the winter. I thought we’d have all that.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “We don’t.”

  “Is there any way you can still pull it off?”

  He took a breath. Looked her in the eye. “I don’t know.”

  She’d never seen Mason anything other than fully confident and the change was startling. She had begun to think of him as super-human; some kind of real life James Bond. He didn’t look defeated, though. Far from it. She could tell he was already adjusting his plans and coming up with new ones. Still, she could tell the state of the ranch was a blow.

  “Show me something else,” she said. “Something good. Something you loved about the place as a kid.”

  “Okay.” Mason thought about it. “I’ll show you two things.” He took her on a ten minute walk down a track between two pastures until they reached a smooth flowing stream. “This is Chance Creek. It flows
from the northeast through town and then south until it gets here. It turns southwest eventually.” They stood on its banks admiring its clear water. Mason was regaining his equilibrium and now he drew her close. “This has always been one of my favorite places. In a month or so we’ll be able to swim. My whole family used to come down here on sunny days for a break—even my mom and dad.”

  She smiled. He wasn’t conceding defeat. “Can’t wait.” It occurred to her that she too wanted the plan to work. She would help Mason figure out how to get everything done. At least for the next few weeks—until she made her final decision.

  They watched the water flow past and she could tell his mind had drifted back to all of the ranch’s problems. She wished she could offer him some advice, but she didn’t feel qualified to give him any.

  “The ranch is in worse shape than I expected,” he echoed her thoughts, “but we’re not beaten yet. I’ve been gone for a long time, but the Hall name still means something around here. I’ll look up our neighbors and old friends and ask for a hand setting things to right. It’ll still cost a pretty penny, but more hands will get the work done faster.” He turned to her. “Just you wait and see—it’ll be all right.”

  She believed him. Mason seemed capable of any miracle.

  He tugged her hand. “Come on, let me show you something else.” He led her back up the track and across the yard with a lighter step. They cut behind the Hall toward the woods. Mostly pine, but interspersed with hemlock and birch, it was a comfortable, mature forest—fairly clear of brush and undergrowth.

  Regan cocked her head when she spotted a kind of wooden ladder ahead, then raised her brows in surprise when she realized it was more like a piece of playground equipment. Two identical pieces of playground equipment side by side, actually. “What is that?”

  “That is the Course, as we like to call it. It’s a side-by-side obstacle course. My dad got the idea when we were pretty young, after watching a show on television. He decided it would be the perfect thing to occupy four boys who had the tendency to get in fights and then expect him to sort them out. He built all the obstacles by hand, practiced on them for a while himself until he could run through it in a fraction of the time we could, and then relied on it for the next ten years.”