Extreme Love Makeover

Extreme

Love Makeover

Barbara Witek

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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EXTREME LOVE MAKEOVER

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2012 by Barbara Witek

http://www.barbarawitek.com

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to Regina Edwards Drumm, whose family was like my second family when we were growing up – thank God gas was cheap back then!! Thank you for being my lifelong friend and confidant. I’m so glad we get to share our writing journeys. To think it all started with our notebooks in high school…Love Ya!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, my family: Dave, Zach, Tyler, Lauren and my mother, Dorothy. I couldn’t do this without you all in my corner. I love you and I am blessed. My blessings continue on to my extended family: Diane, Ron, Tonya, Jim, Karen, Nick, Mike, Kristi, Kathy, Kristen,….I married into a wonderful family. Your continued support means so much.

Christine Witthohn, agent extraordinaire, I’m going to make sure the stories keep coming and coming! Your knowledge, advice and friendship goes without saying-I wouldn’t be this far without it and you. Kelly Ferrara, my cover Diva! I just love how you “get” me!

My BC Peeps: Kari Lee Harmon, Dani LaBue, Liz Lipperman – thanks for always being there as eyes and ears and everything in between. You ladies ROCK!!

Extreme Love Makeover

“What a stupid hunk of junk!” I slapped my palm against the leather-wrapped wheel and jammed the stick in park when my truck refused to move another inch. “Oooh, I ought to trade you in for a foreign model. Built tough my--”

I looked west, taking note of the black clouds rolling in off Lake Ontario. There wasn’t much time before the impending storm hit. A rumble of thunder echoed in the evening summer sky as I launched myself out of my not-so-trusty pickup, toolkit in hand. What I really wanted was a sledgehammer. Under normal circumstances, my truck and I had an “understanding.” But these weren’t normal circumstances, and I wasn’t in the mood to play let’s-find-the-part-that-didn’t-work.

As if sensing my current state of mind, Mother Nature decided to test me further. With a loud boom, the sky overhead opened up turning fat droplets of water into a downpour worthy of an ark. Through hot, sticky air and sheets of rain, I kicked the nearest tire with all my might.

“Damn!” Biting back a couple choice words, I limped to take a look under the hood. “This is unbelievable,” I breathed in frustration at the puzzle of mechanical guts staring up at me. My sopping-wet hair hung over my eyes. I swiped at the strands to clear my view, shooting droplets of water back into the air.

This had been the week from hell and I was running on sheer exhaustion. My own fault, I know. But as project manager and owner of Helping Homes, I had to be here in the heart of Cape Vincent. This was my reputation and truth be known, I kind of liked pushing myself this way. Although I hadn’t planned on “Freddie” (the name I christened my evil truck years ago) acting up, I should have known something would go wrong.

My head was anywhere but here, and I was beginning to think I’d left it back in the hospital room with my foreman. Jim had gotten seriously hurt when scaffolding collapsed right before lunch. After spending the afternoon in the hospital, all I wanted was a hot shower, a quick meal, and a glass of wine before curling under the covers with my tattered copy of Gone with the Wind. I liked to think of myself as a modern-day Scarlet O’Hara, strong, independent and willing to do whatever it took to achieve what I desired, except a newer truck.

I developed Helping Homes as a way to give back to the community and help people who didn’t have the means to help themselves. The projects my company took on tore at our heartstrings, making the results more meaningful every time. My family might not approve of my career choice, but after I’d failed at everything else, I believed this was what I was meant to do.

My company had travelled all over the northeast. I was both humbled and honored to be called back to the sweet, small town of Cape Vincent. This place had been my summer home growing up and I’d loved everything about it. When I was younger, I’d always thought I’d settle here. Funny how life throws curve balls when you least expect them.

“Excuse me, do you need some help?”

I froze. That voice could only belong to one person. The person who’d teased me relentlessly every summer for three years and proposed in every letter in between. The same person who’d haunted my dreams every day since I’d left.

I could never forget Mitchell Case.

“Mitch?” The words muffled within the patter of rain as I twisted from under the hood and stared at the drop-dead-gorgeous sight in front of me. I had to lean against old Freddie for support.

The guy was even more exquisite than I remembered. His dark hair appeared longer than the image I’d committed to memory and there seemed to be a hint of shadow across his jaw line. Who else but Mitch could look this good with aqua scrubs plastered to their skin?

“Yes?” His eyes narrowed through the driving rain as if he wasn’t quite sure who I was.

Then again, twelve years ago I didn’t look like a drowned rat, and my hair had been blonde. My body burned under his gaze and my insides sizzled from being so close to him. I was suddenly reminded of my own dirt-stained t-shirt clinging to my skin as my nipples saluted their long lost lover. I crossed my arms to cover myself. He did not need to see me like this.

“Sidney Edwards, is that you?” He leaned closer and I backed away, or tried to anyway with Freddie right behind me. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting a friend, if you must know,” I tried to sound flip, but my brain fogged over and I dropped my gaze to the socket wrench in my hand. We hadn’t seen each other in so long, yet it felt like only yesterday as we stood in the rain with our big old awkward silence. “What about you?” I nodded toward his scrubs.

“I work here.” He smiled his I-should-do-toothpaste-commercials smile, and I had to stomp the urge to throw myself at him. Even after all this time, he was still so incredibly hot and able weaken my self-control in an instant. How could that even be possible after what happened?

There was a time we’d been so good together. I recalled how at the end of every summer I’d return to my home on Long Island and count the days ‘til our next summer vacation. Each purple “X” on my calendar brought me one day closer to Mitch.

“I like what you’ve done to your hair. That color red suits you.” Mitch reached out and pulled at a soaked garnet-colored strand, bringing me back from my memories.

I laughed a little and eased my head back, letting the hair slip through his fingers and onto my shoulder. “Just changing things up a bit, you know me, always looking--”

“For something new,” he finished my sentence. “Yeah, I remember all too well.”

Ouch. That stung a little. It seemed safe to assume that embracing me was probably the last thing on his mind right now. Then again, what was I expecting after all this time? Twelve years ago, I’d never stuck around to deal with the aftermath. Mitch had to clean up the mess. In all fairness, he deserved a jab or two at my expense.

Maybe someday we’d be able to move beyond what happened. Then I could tell him how important he and his family had been in all the decisions I’d made. His father had been the one who’d mattered most.

Every summer Mr. Case treated me more like a daughter than my own father knew how to. He spent time with me, even when Mitch was off with his friends. My dad, to this day can’t relax and enjoy life. Dad’s focus has always been, and will be, business instead of family.

While Cape Vincent had been my family’s summer place, it wasn’t their livelihood. Seeing the rewards from my dad’s hard work founded my dreams and ambitions, unlike Mitch, who lived here year round and seemed more than happy with the laid back lifestyle. While I’d treasured my time spent here, I wanted to do more with my life, which had ultimately squelched my thoughts of settling down.

The damage had been done as far as Mitch and I was concerned. Too much time had passed. There was no turning back even if seeing him again stirred up all those old emotions.

Mitch had a job at the hospital now, which was a surprise in itself since the Mitch I knew wasn’t that motivated. He was, however, a smooth talker when he wanted to be. He probably wore the scrubs to make the girls think he was a doctor. I could only imagine the women he’d conned with that quick-witted charm of his.

Another rumble of thunder sounded, reminding me how uncomfortable I felt standing here in the rain and thinking of the past. Mitch had to be on the same page, because he cleared his throat and glanced around the vacant parking lot. I followed his gaze then returned mine to my truck. Forget memory lane. For all I knew he already had the wife, the dog and 2.5 kids. My heart seemed to stop for a moment before it barreled like Niagara Falls into my stomach.

Reality check, I scolded myself. Serves you right, Sidney.

“So...everything all right here?” He tugged at the wrench in my hand. My eyes returned to his, my heart strangely yearning for what used to be. “I have the late shift tonight and saw you--well, before I knew it was you--on my way in. I can call a tow truck if you need it.”

I slid the tool out of his grasp and dropped the hood. This was pointless, and I needed to keep things in perspective. “No, that’s all right. Things are fine, yup, I’m good. I mean, Freddie’s good. I mean, there is no Freddie, that’s just the possessed name I gave this piece of shit truck.”

My face grew hot and my eyes widened. I couldn’t believe I swore in front of him. Not like he hadn’t heard it before, I’m sure, but it didn’t feel right at this moment. Neither did the fact I felt I’d needed to clarify who Freddie was. The least I could have done was let him wonder about my relationship status.

“Okay, if you say so.” Mitch lifted his slick, wet arm for a better view of his watch before dragging long fingers through his mass of dark waves. Sexy as hell, is what careened through my befuddled brain. He shot me a sideward glance as if he’d read my mind and my body tensed. Relief washed over me when he tossed a look over his shoulder at the hospital and said, “Listen, it was great seeing you, but I’ve got to get inside. Duty calls.”

“Yeah, sure, you too.” I blinked twice to clear my focus, and wiped the rain off my face for good measure.

“Hope your friend is doing better.” His brown eyes seemed to study me, and I wondered if I was as transparent as I used to be.

“Thanks.” Whatever battle waged inside my body needed to cease, and pronto! It didn’t matter how well he’d aged, I didn’t want him to see me melt into a useless puddle with the rain. “Well, you’d better get inside.” I pointed toward the brick hospital, then dodged out of his sight into the safety of my truck. I silently prayed it would start, because I never did get a chance to tinker with it before tall-dark-and-orderly showed up. Lucky for me, he took one more glance at my windshield, waved, and jogged toward the ER doors.

My body wilted against the worn burgundy vinyl like a daisy in the desert. Mitch and I were like sparks and dynamite. I needed to finish this Helping Homes job and leave Cape Vincent once and for all before I did something stupid. Honestly, I never thought I’d see him again. I mean, what girl leaves a guy at the altar and then returns to the scene of the crime?

***

“Let’s go! I need that sheetrock up like yesterday. We’ll have painters coming in tomorrow, and they’d better have something to do,” I yelled as I walked through what would soon be a recovery center for children and their families after reconstructive surgery. My crew and I had been at this long and hard all week, and were getting down to the wire. Three more days was all we had, and I still hadn’t met the person in charge.

“Yo, Sid, where’s the stuffed shirt who’s supposed to give us the low down on the equipment?” My electrical guy, Kyle, swiped at his forehead with the back of his chubby hand and pointed to the outlet boxes dangling off plywood.