“I’m fine, Peggy,” I said and paced back and forth in the front room. “I appreciate the call, sis, but you don’t have to worry. It’ll take more than what happened to bring me down.”

“Right. I forgot you’re the unsinkable Molly Brown,” Peggy sighed into the phone. “Look, you can say what you want, but I don’t feel good about you all alone over there. Why don’t you drive down to New Orleans? Spend the weekend with Dave and me? You need to blow off some steam after the incident, and there’s plenty of jazz clubs and restaurants and—”

“Ugh, don’t say restaurant,” I replied, trying hard to sound like I was joking. It took real effort. Everything that’d happened over the past couple months had left me with a huge emotional wound, and certain trigger words made it weep all over again.

“Sorry,” Peggy said. “But seriously. Come over, girl.”

“I just got here. I’m not leaving now. Besides, I’ve got a lot of work to do on this place. Nana left it in a state—not that I blame her—and I’ve got a carpenter coming over in a little while. And I’ve got job interviews all next week. Goals.”

“A carpenter. Really? That’s how you’re going to spend your weekend? Carpenting?”

“I might watch a movie,” I replied, the suggestion more to throw her off than anything else. I was totally exhausted from the journey down and the drama I’d been through. Traveling now, even to see my sister, was too much to even consider.

“Fine, fine,” Peggy said. “But I still think you should take it easy.”

“That’s why I called a carpenter. He came by recommendation.”

“Whose recommendation?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Welp, I walked into that one. “My next-door neighbor’s,” I said. “I met him this morning while I was assessing the damage to the house.” ‘Met’ was one way of putting it. I’d fallen onto him, and then he’d fallen onto me, and then I’d nearly creamed my friggin’ jeans—literally—because of how hot, hard, and totally delicious he was. What a dude. Blond hair, green eyes, and in absolute control of every single move he made.

“Becky?”

“Huh, what?”

“Seriously, you didn’t hear a word I just said?”

“Sorry, I, uh, thought the carpenter was here.”

“Right,” Peggy replied, drawing the word out. “So? What’s the scoop on the helpful neighbor dude?”

“There’s no scoop. He’s just some dude who lives next door.” Who might’ve fallen directly from Asgard. Seriously, if the dude grew his hair to shoulder length he’d be a Chris Hemsworth doppelganger.

“Nuh uh uh, you’re not telling me something. How long have we been sisters, Becky?”

“Um, since I was born?”

“Precisely, and that’s been thirty damn years of you annoying me and being the best little sister a girl could have.”

“I love how you had to put the annoying part in there. You’re such a delight.”

“Girl, my point is that I know you like I know myself. Remember that time you pooped in the pool and tried to blame it on the dog?” Peggy asked.

“Are you going somewhere with this?” The memory of distant embarrassment swam to the present. Excuse the pun, damn.

“I covered for you then, even though I knew it was you who’d done the deed. And I can hear it in your voice now that there’s something you’re not telling me about this next-door neighbor guy. So spill it.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I said. “Just that he’s incredibly hot.”

“Ha, I knew it!”

“And it doesn’t matter,” I replied. “He could be Chris Hemsworth, and it wouldn’t matter. I have goals to achieve here. A life to start from scratch, and I won’t be distracted by some hot guy simply because he lives next door.” And because he’d made my panties nearly melt off my body.

“Right,” Peggy said. “Whatever you say. Now I know why you don’t want to come down here this weekend.”

A lethargic knock at the door saved me from having to answer that line of inquisition. “Oh, I think the carpenter’s here.”

“Sure, the carpenter’s there. Sure he is. Or is it really the hot as fuck guy from next door, come to tweak your—” I hung up before she could finish the sentence. She was teasing, of course. Peg wanted what was best for me, except she thought it included meeting another guy.

I had no interest in that. Once bitten, twice get the fuck away from me. I have a life that doesn’t need to be ruined again.

The knock came again, and I stowed my cell phone in my pocket and hurried to the front door. It opened up with great difficulty—the thing kept getting stuck in the frame—and did a double take.

The carpenter guy was at least in his sixties, bent-backed and balding on top. Is this Mason’s idea of a joke? Then again, New York had taught me not to judge a book by its cover.

I put out my hand and smiled. “Hi there,” I said. “You must be Troy.”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” The old man shook my hand, and his grip was kind of clammy and weak. He lifted a fist to his mouth and coughed into it, then wheezed.

“Shoot, are you OK?”

“Fine, fine.” He waved. “Just a mild cough. Now, it looks to me like you’ve got a lot of work that needs doing.”

“Yeah, like I said on the phone, Mr. Tombs, it’s a fixer-upper. I don’t have all that much money to pour into it, though, so I’d like all the main problem areas addressed first. Then, when I’ve saved up extra, I’ll call you back for the rest.”

“Sure thing, miss,” Troy said and coughed again. “What are the main problem areas in your mind?”

I stepped out onto the porch beside him and scanned it. I pointed to where the ladder was propped up against the overhang. “Well, the eaves are busted, see? There are holes. I don’t want to think about what made them. And then both the front and back doors need replacing. And the shutters—well, I suppose they can wait.” I had to be conservative here. I wasn’t exactly swimming in money after losing my restaurant.

“Right,” Troy said, “I hear ya. Well, the ladder’s up, so let me take a look at the damage there first.”

“Great. Thank you so much for coming out. I really appreciate it. I’ll fix you some lemonade.” Kudos to me for having remembered the hospitality bit. Troy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

He tipped an invisible cap my way then trundled back down the porch steps, the wood groaning beneath him even though he was thin as a rake.

I hurried back inside, ignoring the buzz of my cell phone in my pocket. No doubt it was Peggy calling back to squeeze me for more details about hot handyman next door. I hit the kitchen fast and searched through my meager boxes for the juicer. I’d pretty much lost everything of note in the fire, apart from personal effects at the apartment.

I’d had to fork out cash to buy all new appliances: cutlery, crockery—the works. I would’ve regretted parting with the money, but I loved having tools to work with in the kitchen. Cooking was my life and always had been, and the new stuff was in keeping with my “new home, new me” vibe.

I entered the pantry, which I’d stocked the afternoon before on arriving in Stoneport and grabbed ingredients—lemons and sugar. I grabbed a jug from the box nearest the—

“Fuuuuuuuuuck!” The raspy scream came from the front of the house. A thud and a crash followed it.

I rammed the jug down on the granite countertop in Nana’s kitchen and rushed to the front door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The groans came on repeat, and my heartbeat skipped up twenty notches. What the hell was it this time?

Finally I thundered out onto the porch then gasped. “Shit! Are you OK? Mr. Tombs!”

The carpenter lay flat on the grass, staring up at the sky, his eyes wide open and his teeth gritted in pain. The ladder lay in the wilted flower bed beneath the porch railing.

“No, I’m damn well not OK. When I move it feels like there’s an alligator clawing its way outta my back.”

“Shit,” I repeated. “OK, hold on. I’ll call the ambulance.”

“Ambulance? I don’t need a damn ambulance.”

“Mr. Tombs, you can’t move.”

He squinted at me sideways, turning his head and wincing as he did. “Do I look like an invalid to you, young lady?”

“Well, kinda yeah.” Shoot, this was totally my fault. I should never have let him on the ladder—then again, what was I supposed to do? Hold the old guy back from doing his job?

Troy wheezed. “Call my doctor. He’s the only one I trust with this typa shit.”

“All right,” I conceded. Better his doctor than nothing at all. “What’s his number?”

Troy recited it to me verbatim, and I raised both eyebrows at him.

“What?” he asked. “When you get to my age, you gotta know your doc’s number. Now, please, you call him and you tell him it’s an emergency.”

“OK,” I said and turned my back on him, lifting the phone to my ear. I paused and looked over my shoulder. “Don’t move, all right?”

“Yeah, ’cause I was about to start square dancing down the street.”

A couple minutes later, I was back outside with a glass of water for my downed, geriatric carpenter. Holy shit, wasn’t this a week. I moved the glass toward him, and he pursed his lips to refuse it. “That doc coming, Miss?”

“Yeah, his receptionist said he’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Good, ’cause there’s two alligators now.” Troy’s loose jowls were white and waxen now, and his eyelids drifted open and shut, open and shut.

I swallowed and kept my emotions in check. The last thing I needed was this old-timer kicking the bucket in front of my house. Worst nightmare made real. An old broken house with the ghost of a disgruntled carpenter to haunt it.

Five minutes later an ambulance pulled up outside the front gate followed by a Dodge. Medics rushed down the path and across the grass toward us carrying a stretcher, but I didn’t pay them much attention.

My gaze was fixed on the Dodge, and the guy stepping out of it wearing a white coat and a grim expression.

It was my next-door neighbor.

Mason.

Doctor Mason?

“Doctor Dunn!” Troy howled as they lifted him in the stretcher. “You know how I feel about amberlances.”

Doctor Dunn. That’s not sexy at all. So not sexy that I totally wasn’t covered in goose bumps from head to toe.

The doctor—god help me—strode up to the stretcher and affected a stern expression. “Mr. Tombs, you fell off a ladder. You’re going to the hospital in New Orleans, and that’s all there is to it.”

“I’d rather not,” Troy wheezed.

“Have you been taking your antibiotic course?” Mason followed that up by folding his arms and arching an eyebrow.

Troy paled even further if that was possible and grumbled something indistinct under Mason’s stern gaze. “Fine,” he said at last. “But I don’t gotta like it.”

Mason nodded to the medics, and they stretchered the elderly fellow off to the ambulance. Doors slammed, lights flashed, and a siren wailed. I could almost make out Troy’s complaints as the vehicle whizzed off down the street.

Soon it was out of sight, and it was just me and Mason.

“Thanks for calling that in,” he said. “Troy’s stubborn. If I’d known he wasn’t taking his meds, I’d never have recommended him to you. Sorry about that, Rebecca.”

“Becky,” I said, reflexively. I’d never liked my full name. “And it’s no problem. I just hope he’ll be OK.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Yeah, apparently that’s what you do,” I said and gestured to the doctor’s coat. “I had no idea. So this is your main passion. Saving lives?”

“I’m a GP,” he said and laughed—a warm rumble that melted my insides into a puddle. He kept his distance, though, and I was grateful for it. It was too difficult to think with him close. “Listen, I owe you for this.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Like I said, I’ll handle it myself.”

“And wind up on your back like Troy?”

On my back. Oh, don’t think of that and look at Mason.

“I’ll help you,” Mason said. “I’m free this weekend. On call for emergencies like this, but this town’s usually pretty quiet. Unless someone blows up another pressure cooker or gets their dong stuck in a Jacuzzi vent.”

“What?!”

“I shit you not.”

I burst out laughing, and he joined me, both of us sweeping our gazes over each other as we did. This was crazy. The desire to be closer to him, to touch him, was too much. I’d already been burned. I didn’t need this.

“I’d better get back to the practice,” Mason said and dragged back his cuff to look at the expensive watch on his arm. “I’ll be around tomorrow morning at eight a.m. sharp. Sound good?”

“Sure,” I managed. “Thanks a lot.”

“No problem, Becky.” He gave me a sexy half-smile before heading for my one-hinged fence. He paused there and looked back at me. “You bring the lemonade, I’ll bring the wood.”

God, save me.