Page 8 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Jake observed the two women from the doorway, his heart full. His grandmother had been his anchor through a turbulent childhood, her home the only place where he’d felt truly safe and wanted. And now, watching Faith’s animated expressions as she listened to Ruth’s stories, he felt something shift inside him. Who would have thought that Jake Murphy, confirmed bachelor and renovation expert, might fall for a petite enchantress with a smoky voice and compassionate heart?
“Ready to head out, Gran?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen. Both women looked up with identical expressions of annoyance at the interruption, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He turned to Faith, his expression softening. “Your house has good bones. The foundation isn’t as compromised as I initially feared. It needs reinforcement and leveling in a few spots, but there aren’t any major structural cracks. We’ll start by shoring up the weak areas and replacing the damaged floor joists. I can have a team here first thing tomorrow morning to begin stabilizing everything. I think you’ll have a beautiful home by the end of the year.”
Faith nodded, hoping his confidence was well founded. The way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when he spoke about the renovations revealed his passion for restoration. It was oddly comforting.
“Wow, the end of the year,” she said. “That’s only a few months.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re going to spend that limitless budget. You strike me as a woman who doesn’t want to waste time. I can pull crews off other jobs for a priority like this one. I want to see it finished just as much as you do. Houses like these are my passion, and they don’t come along every day.”
“So it’s that bad, huh?” she asked.
“Yep, one of the worst I’ve seen,” he said, excitedly. “I’ve moved your belongings to what appears to be the sturdiest section of the house. Should minimize the risk of any more bathroom fixtures landing on your head.”
“Thank you,” Faith said, flustered by the intensity of his gaze. He was looking at her as though he could see beyond her professional façade to the uncertain woman beneath. For someone who made her living with words, she felt strangely tongue tied.
“What time do you need to be at the station tonight?” he asked.
She caught a hint of his cologne—something woody with notes of cedar and bergamot. It suited him perfectly. “I have a pre-show meeting at five, and I’m on air from six to nine. I’m usually home by ten.”
“I’ll come back this evening to begin addressing the wood rot,” he said. “That gives me time to return to the office, finalize the paperwork, and coordinate the necessary crews. I’ll send you the contract and get a digital signature. I can start getting permits first thing in the morning.”
He didn’t mention he’d have to pull in every favor he had to make the end of the year deadline, or that he planned to personally oversee most of the work—something he rarely did these days. “We should be able to restore water and electricity service sometime next week as long as nothing catastrophic happens.”
“That would be wonderful,” Faith sighed with relief. “My neighbor, Mrs. Larsen, has been letting me use her bathroom to prepare for work, and I’ve been surviving on takeout until I have functional living space.”
Jake had wondered about her living arrangements and had been prepared to offer his own place if necessary. He realized with startling clarity that he wanted to spend as much time with Faith Hartwell as possible. There was something about her—vulnerability beneath strength, warmth behind professional reserve—that drew him like nothing had before.
As he helped his grandmother to her feet, Jake found himself mentally rearranging his entire schedule to make room for this project. Jake hadn’t felt this immediate pull toward someone in longer than he could remember. Faith Hartwell presented two restoration challenges—her beloved house and her carefully guarded heart. And as he guided Ruth toward the door, casting one last glance at Faith over his shoulder, he knew with absolute certainty which project would prove the greater challenge—and the more rewarding success.
He was coming back tonight, and not just to shore up rotting floorboards. Jake Murphy, confirmed bachelor and master builder, was suddenly very interested in laying a new foundation of an entirely different kind.
CHAPTERFOUR
“Frustrated in Fairfield,you’re on the air with Dr. Hartwell. What can I do for you tonight?” Faith cringed at the high-pitched squeal that came through her headphones. “You’ll have to turn the radio down, sir.”
She waited patiently for the mumbling and squealing to wind down. After all, it was a full moon Friday and she’d been having bizarre conversations all night. But what she’d never been while working was distracted. A pair of cobalt-blue eyes and twin dimples kept invading her concentration to the point where she’d had to ask a caller to repeat his problem twice.
“Yeah, um, Dr. Hartwell? This is…”
“We don’t say names on the air, sir,” she reminded the caller as the sensor bleeped out his name. For some reason people always wanted to give their names before telling her embarrassing things about their personal life. She’d never understand it.
“Yeah, um, anyway. I’m having a problem with my girlfriend. Or I guess she’s my ex-girlfriend now. She keeps calling and bothering me, leaving messages on my machine, and that makes my new girlfriend really mad. What should I do to get my ex to leave me alone?”
“How long ago did you break up with your girlfriend?”
“What’s today? Friday?”
“Yes,” Faith said, already feeling her patience waning.
“Then it was Wednesday.”
“And when did you acquire your new girlfriend?” Anyone who knew Faith well recognized the particular tone of voice she was using—it said you might want to take cover—butFrustrated in Fairfieldwasn’t too bright.
“Oh, my new girlfriend and I have been together a couple of weeks. Is that important?”
Faith stifled a scream and wondered how this idiot could have passed the screening process to be on the air, and then she remembered he was one of the better callers she’d had all night.
“Maybe your ex-girlfriend doesn’t feel like she’s attained closure. The breakup seems to have happened rather abruptly. How did you break up with her?”
