CHAPTER THREE

FERN

That weird bubbling in the toilet has continued. Even worse, this morning I found some nasty sludge waiting for me in the tub. I'm really beginning to panic when a quick online search suggests that it could simply be a matter of the septic being full or clogged, which helps calm me down a little.

We've lived here for two years, and I don't recall the septic ever being pumped during that time. The last thing I need right now is another expense, but I don't have a choice.

The inspector is coming out next week to go over the house so I can get it listed. I made some of the easy cosmetic improvements the realtor suggested and that ate into my limited funds, but I think I can squeeze another hundred out to get the septic pumped. Bob's been nice about giving me some extra shifts lately at the diner.

Except when I call to get the septic serviced, most places are booked out until next week and beyond. I can get emergency service tomorrow morning to the tune of an extra seventy-five dollars on top of their already budget-busting one hundred- and fifteen-dollar service fee.

I go quiet as I frantically try to figure out where I can get the extra money from when the lady on the phone asks me if I want to take the appointment time or not.

Gnawing on an already ragged fingernail, I tell her I do and then immediately dig my engagement ring and wedding band out of my top dresser drawer and drive to the pawnshop to get the funds to cover the cost of the upcoming septic service.

Things don't work out as I hoped.

Instead of leaving the pawn shop with enough cash to cover the septic costs, I slink out the door with both rings in my purse and my face burning with a combination of humiliation and fury. Jared, that prick, didn't even get me a real diamond and the pawn shop employee only offered me eighteen dollars for both rings.

It's tempting to swing by the cemetery and flip off Jared's expensive marble headstone, but I can't afford to waste anymore gas, so I head home.

For the next two hours, I tear through the house and list things online to sell for some hopefully quick cash. And now and then I hear the bubbling/gurgling noise, which increases my panic.

The next morning, bright and early as promised, a big white septic tank truck backs into my driveway, stopping what looks like mere inches away from my tiny blue sedan. By the time the tech or whatever his title is swings down out of his truck, I'm visually vibrating with nerves. Am I supposed to go out and greet him? Show him where the septic is? Which I only know because of the white plastic tube thing sticking out of the ground that I avoided while mowing.

He doesn't approach the front door and instead immediately goes around to the back of the house. I guess he knows his business better than I do, so best to let him have at it.

Still, I can't resist pulling back the beige curtain and peeking out the living room window to check on his progress, and when I do, my stomach does a flip for an entirely different reason than nerves.

He's shoveling up the area where I believed the septic to be and the way the short sleeves of his blue shirt pull taut over the huge swells of his biceps is mesmerizing. He's all tanned, golden-brown skin, almost the same color as his short, close-cropped brown hair.

From my vantage point, I'm looking down on him and watch the muscles in his thick forearms as they bunch with every heavy shovel of dirt he digs up and tosses to the side.

He pauses and swipes a forearm across his forehead and my mouth goes dry when his shirt lifts up the tiniest of bits.

Come on, a little more, I'm silently mouthing as a thin sliver of muscular belly is exposed.

When he lowers his arm, and his shirt goes down, I groan out loud and immediately slap a guilty palm over my mouth while my gaze darts up to his face. His expression doesn't change as he goes back to digging, and I force myself away from the window.

Placing a hand on my chest, the beat of my heart is steady but slightly fast as is my breathing. I need to pull myself together and stop ogling the poor guy who's here to do a job not to be stared at like he's on display.

Absolutely.

After one more look.

I pull back a corner of the curtain again and peer out the window to see him crouching down on his hunches as he's staring intently at something. The big pile of grass and earth prevent me from seeing what it is he's looking at, so I instead enjoy the view of his broad back and the way his jeans cup his ass.

My cheeks grow warmer the longer I stare and when he smoothly rises to his feet and picks up the shovel, I lick my lips and lean closer.

He digs the shovel in and then unexpectedly looks up directly at the window where I'm standing. Blue eyes, made brighter and more vivid by the contrast to his tanned skin, lock on mine and a startled squeak escapes me as he smiles before giving a jaunty wave.

Quickly, I drop the curtain and hurry from the room. It's purely my imagination, but I swear I hear the low rumble of male laughter following me.

In the bathroom, I brush my hair and splash some cold water on my face. There's no harm in admiring a physically fit guy. Sure, the guys I dated before husband and even Jared himself were on the softer side and worked with their brains more than their hands, but that didn't make them any better or more or less attractive than the guy out working on my septic. It's natural to be attracted to an obviously fit man.

Groaning, I cup another handful of water and toss it up into my face, sputtering when I inadvertently get it up my nose. It's no less than I deserve for drooling over some poor guy merely out doing his job.

I grab the blue towel hanging next to the sink and scrub at my face before heading downstairs for a much-needed cup of coffee. I take that first blessedly wonderful sip when a hard knock rattles the front door and I jerk and come close to spilling my precious coffee.

It can only be the septic guy or an early bird bill collector since I don't get any other visitors. Taking a fortifying gulp of pure caffeine goodness, I set my mug carefully on the counter as the hot liquid burns its way through me. After tucking my checkbook in the back pocket of my jeans, I hurry to the door. It would have been great to simply put this unexpected expense on one of the many credit cards Jared and I had, but they're all maxed out. Another thing I can thank my awesome husband for.

At the time, I didn't think Jared and I were living that extravagant of a lifestyle, at least I wasn't. But silly me, wasn't considering the lavish way he spent money on his girlfriend and all the upgrades to himself that I never saw the benefit of.

A girlfriend I was blissfully unaware of until five months before Jared's death. That's what I get for leaving the bills to him to handle. If I would have been paying more attention, I would have caught onto all those extra expenses and found out much sooner about his cheating.

Not that it would have stopped him, but maybe the clear comparison would have made me realize the marriage was long over and there was no "saving" it. I wish I could go back in time, even before that, and shake some sense into my past self before I ever accepted a date with him in the first place.

But I had been twenty-two and was so impressed with an older, sophisticated man taking an interest in me. He had dazzled me with his charm and wit, taking me to fancy restaurants, complimenting me and treating me like someone that he adored and respected. Then he accepted a new, higher paying job without even consulting me, and boom! Suddenly, we were moving hundreds of miles away from my friends and family. He sold it as a grand adventure, and the start of our wonderful life together.

Yeah, so wonderful having a huge house that I didn't want or need that's a money pit, a husband that did a complete one-eighty once we were out here, and having to look in the mirror every day and seeing less and less of the person I used to be.

Inhaling a deep breath, I open up the door, because ready or not, I'm facing each challenge head-on from now on.

The septic tech stands there and this close I can see the fine lines radiating out from his eyes and the rough texture to his skin. He's much older than that firm body led me to believe. The smell of grass, earth, and sun-warmed skin floods my nose and I want to lean forever and breathe him in.

Thankfully, the coffee has awakened my mind and I have the sense not to do something so mortifying.

That's also when I notice his engaging grin is gone.

My stomach drops.

"Hi, I'm Alex, from Parison's Septic. Could you come with me around back so I can show you a few things, ma'am?"

My stomach bounces back up. Okay. Maybe it's not that bad.

"Umm.. Sure." I step out of the house, and he moves to the side.

His grin inches his full lips up as his gaze drops to the ground. "You might want to put some shoes on."

Following the direction of his gaze, I see my bare feet on the concrete of the landing and let out a tiny moan. "I'll be right back," I mutter, charging into the house.

"I'll be right here waiting."

I locate my old busted-down sneakers under the couch and stuff my feet into them while trying to will the blush heating up my face to go away. Surely, I'm imagining the flirtatious tone to his voice.

He's waiting right on the porch like he promised and whatever control I had over my blush leaves me as I'm struck by what a powerfully built man he is. I never dreamed muscles were my thing, but at this moment, I want to reach out and squeeze his biceps to see if they're as hard as they look.

Dragging my eyes away from his body, I'm met with his cocky grin that says he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

"Ready?"

"Yes," I squeak out and fall into step next to him. The tantalizing scent of sun-warmed skin teases my nose as his arm brushes against mine as we walk.

A dozen thoughts are tangling in my head and none of them are about my clogged septic. I'm trying to breathe softly through my mouth to avoid inhaling any more of his yummy scent when a horrific stench makes me gag and fill my eyes with tears.

Panicking, I press a hand across my lower face, covering my nose and mouth, and try to only breathe in my recycled coffee-breath. "Oh, that's nasty," I moan, stopping next to the hole Alex has dug.

I peer down and see things I never wanted to see and am thankful I didn't have breakfast yet because it would be coming up. "Weren't you going to pump that?" I say, backing up a few steps.

"I will, but that's not going to fix your problems."

Of course not. Because nothing in this entire mess left for me by Jared has been simple or easy, so why did I think this would be?

Lowering my hand, I look Alex straight in his dazzling blue eyes and try to ignore the pity shining clearly in them.

"So what's the problem and how much is it going to cost?"