Unexpected Odds (Unexpected Arrivals #5) Read online

  “You’ve arrived at your destination,” the female voice of the GPS informs me.

  Turning on my signal, I pull into the long driveway. There’s a metal arch held by two brick pillars declaring Nottingham Estate. An odd sensation washes over me, one I can’t name. It’s as if this place is home to me, but that’s not the case. My home is in California. It has to be nostalgia as this was Gram and Gramps’s home. Then again, maybe it’s because my father left it to me in the will. Something my mother was unaware of and is still angry about to this day.

  I’m not sure what Dad’s motivation was, and why he left it to me, but his specific instructions were clear. The property was mine. It was mine to do with as I wished, after I personally oversaw the remodel. His hope, per the letter he left with his will, was that this will be my home, but if I decide after spending time here that it isn’t the case, he would be okay with me selling, but only if that’s what I want to do.

  Mother was livid, of course. She insisted we put it on the market as is, and I quote, “We never have to step foot in that godforsaken town.” After just the drive across town, and now that I’m here sitting in the circle drive staring at my family’s history, I know without a shadow of a doubt that there are reasons, other than the excuses that she’s given me, that she hates this town, this house.

  Grabbing the keys to the rental, my phone, and purse, I climb out of the SUV, shutting the door. I stretch my sore muscles and take a deep breath of the clean mountain air. The cool air burns my lungs, but in a good way. No smog. Nothing like California, and I love it already. My eyes rake over the home that’s been neglected for the past few years, and even though the landscaping is overrun, and the paint is chipping, even I can see the beauty in the home before me. Excited to see the inside, to see what I’m dealing with, I take a step forward when I hear a car approach. Turning, I shield my eyes from the sun and watch a black sedan park behind my rental.

  An older gentleman climbs out of the car. He pulls at his pants that are already being held up by suspenders, that peek out under his coat, as he approaches me. “Ms. Nottingham?” he asks. His hand is already thrust forward in greeting, waiting for me to shake it.

  “Delaney.” I take his offered hand.

  “Harold Garcia, it’s nice to officially meet you.”

  “You as well. Thank you for meeting me here.”

  “Of course. Have you been here long?”

  “No, I actually just pulled in.”

  “Beautiful place.” He nods toward the house.

  “It really is.” There is snow on the treetops and on the mountains that are in the distance, yet they seem so close at the same time. It’s almost like a painting or a Christmas card. Even rundown the place is gorgeous.

  “Well, shall we get started? I have the construction crew scheduled to start tomorrow. Your mother emphasized that time was of the essence. She indicated that you want the renovations done as quickly as possible to get the property on the market.”

  “That’s my mother, not me. I own the property and… I’m not so sure I’m selling it.” My mother is insistent that’s the outcome, but I’ve never been confident on the idea. Now, just being here, that feeling is stronger than ever. I can’t explain it.

  “Oh, well, all right. Shall we take a look? We can do a walkthrough and discuss what you want changed. Your mother—” he starts, but the look I flash him shuts him up.

  “Doesn’t have a say.” I feel defiant in my words, but the pull that this place has on me is not only instant but strong. “I am the owner, and it’s my money that’s paying you and the contractor,” I remind him. Sure, it’s my inheritance from my father, but it’s mine, not my mother’s. Just something else that she was not happy about when my father passed away.

  “Yes. Yes.” He nods vigorously. “Shall we get started?” he asks.

  I smile at him. “Yes.” Digging the key to the house from my purse, I take the steps up the front porch one at a time, careful that they might be slick. Once I’ve slid the key into the lock, I slowly push open the door and step inside. My eyes scan the foyer as I take one step then another until I’m standing inside the living room. If it were not for the thin layer of dust and the musty smell, I wouldn’t be able to tell that a family didn’t live here.

  There are still family photos on the mantel, a throw lying over the back of the couch, and a pair of slippers sitting next to the coffee table. It’s as if my parents just took what they had to, and left the rest. Why would they do that?

  “Oh,” Mr. Garcia says, coming to stand next to me. “I wasn’t expecting this. I just assumed it would be empty.”

  “Yeah, so did I.” I turn to look at him. “What does this mean for the renovation? Will it set us back?”

  “Let me make a few calls. However, I think first and foremost, we need to do a walkthrough and decide what needs to be replaced or repaired. That will tell us what we’re dealing with when it comes to the personal belongings and how to handle moving them.”

  “Good idea.” I look down at the sage green carpet that appears to be something from the seventies. “Um, the carpet has to go.” I laugh.

  Mr. Garcia scribbles on his notepad. “Carpet, got it.”

  “I think the entire house could do with a new coat of paint on the inside and out.” It’s hard to tell with all the dust and cobwebs.

  “Right. I’m not sure if the construction crew will handle the outside painting but if not, I’ll find someone who will.” He’s quick to agree as his pen rushes across the page taking notes.

  We spend the next hour going from room to room, deciding what needs to be updated. With each room, I fall even more in love with the house.

  “Right, so we’re updating all the flooring, all the bathrooms, the kitchen is a complete makeover, and paint on all the walls.” Mr. Garcia reads off his list.

  “Yes. For now.” I smile big, and he returns it with one of his own.

  “Oh, and new paint and landscaping for the outside. Although, since it’s January, that might have to wait until spring.”

  “That’s fine,” I assure him. “Like I said. I’m not sure I even want to sell. Maybe we’ll keep it for a vacation home.” His eyes widen, and I can’t help but laugh. This house is gorgeous and huge, too huge to be a simple vacation home. “Maybe a bed and breakfast,” I say, thinking out loud.

  “I’m sure you will figure it out. And when your mother calls?” he asks hesitantly.

  “I’ll handle my mother. This is my home, not hers. It’s my money we’re spending. Not hers.” I remind him yet again. Once Tillie Nottingham gets her claws in you, it’s hard to get them to retract. I need Mr. Garcia and anyone he hires to understand that I’m the homeowner and the person in charge of the decisions. I’ve sat on the sidelines to my mother for years. I needed her, but I’m a grown woman, and while I appreciate all that she’s done for me, it’s time for me to start making my own choices. Consequences be damned.

  Chapter 2

  Kent

  I’m sitting in the middle of the living room floor surrounded by my nieces and nephews. Ryder, the youngest at three months, is in my arms, his little eyes darting all around as he takes in the loudness that is his big sister and his cousins.

  “Uncle Kent, I’m big like you,” Knox says, scooting over to sit next to me, his legs crossed at the ankles like mine.

  “My man,” I say, holding my fist out for him. He bumps it like we taught him to when he was just a tiny thing. He’s the oldest of this brood, and I feel sorry for Everly, Daisy, and Finley. He’s definitely going to be the protector for his baby sister and cousins. My guess is that Beckett, Benjamin, and even Ryder are going to follow right along in his footsteps. My brothers are raising their sons right.

  The girls are putting bows in my hair from their gifts while the boys and I play trucks. Ryder is my sidekick, so he’s currently chewing on my truck. It’s soft, unlike the others, but hey, I’m the cool uncle, so he had to be involved.

  Ther
e’s a smile on my face as I interact with the kids, but all the while my mind is racing. Ridge said we’re starting a job at the Nottingham Estate. It’s been almost five years since I’ve been there. Not long after my visit there, the Nottingham family moved away to California to be closer to their daughter.

  “Uncle Kent.” Finley pats me on the cheek. “I’m a pwincess.” She twirls in her little pink dress that Santa brought her.

  “You ladies, all three of you, are beautiful princesses,” I tell them. I can’t play favorites, and all the girls are dressed up like princesses. I can tell the wives coordinated. More than likely they went shopping together.

  I love how our group is growing. Every one of my brothers has found their perfect match, and their littles… they have their tiny hands rooted deep in my chest and around my heart. The guys tell me it’s different when it’s your own, but I don’t know how that could be. I love these kiddos as if they were mine.

  And today, I’m thankful to have them. Memories invade my thoughts, but they don’t seem to notice, not like their parents would. Instead of trying to make small talk while my mind is pulling up every memory—no, that’s not right; it’s more like every second, every minute, every hour, every breath I ever took with her—that’s what my mind is flashing like a movie reel. Not that this is a new occurrence. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. Hell, I never stopped thinking about her.

  Delaney Nottingham was the one who got away. I was the dumb fuck who let her slip through my fingers. I had her, and then one day, she was just… gone. She never came home again, and her parents moved away.

  I stood her up that final day. I didn’t treat her the way she’d deserved to be treated. I fucked up and lost her. It was then I admitted to myself what I had known all along. I loved her. Up until that final night, I’d tried to show her. I worshiped her body, showing her with my actions what she meant to me. They say actions speak louder than words, and I think they do. Which is why my actions that final night, pushed her away. One night of not showing up, of not giving her the love and respect she deserved and here I am, almost five years later, without her.

  Lesson learned.

  Mara sits next to me on the floor and Finley climbs into her lap. “You need one of those,” she says, leaning her shoulder against mine.

  “Yeah, maybe one day.” The problem is the only woman I’ve ever imagined having this kind of life with is Delaney. I’m sure she’s married with kids by now. Kids that aren’t mine.

  “Well, until you meet the woman who’s going to knock you off your feet, you’re a good uncle. Think of it as training for when that day comes.” Mara smiles as she reaches over and runs her index finger over Ryder’s tiny hands.

  I nod like I’m supposed to, hiding the pain that slices through me. It’s been almost five years, and no one has even come close to Delaney in my eyes. I’ve accepted my fate as always being the cool uncle and never the daddy. I glance down at Ryder, who’s staring up at me. My heart squeezes in my chest as I think about what I lost. What I fucked up. Maybe one day my heart will heal, but I’m not holding my breath.

  “That’s my baby brover,” Finley says, pointing at Ryder.

  “I know. You know what else I know?” I lower my voice. She shakes her head and I crook my finger, telling her silently to come closer. She glances at Mara and then leans into me. “I know that you’re the best big sister in the world.”

  Her eyes light up and she grins. “That’s whats my daddy tells me too.” Her eyes are wide as she jumps off her mom’s lap and rushes to Seth. He sees her coming and bends down to catch her. He hugs her, places a kiss on her cheek, and then goes back to whatever conversation he and Mark are in.

  I envy my brothers. I’m not going to say I’m jealous, because I couldn’t be happier for all four of them. They have wives who are their perfect counterpart and their kids… they’re little versions of them.

  The rest of the kids wander away, and I’m left sitting on the floor with Mara. “What’s going on?”

  I turn to look at her. “Nothing. Why?” Lies.

  “You just seem like there’s something bothering you.”

  That’s something else. The guys and I have been best friends since we were kids—brothers by bond and lifelong friendship. Their wives, aside from Reagan, are new additions to our brood, but they are all intuitive as fuck. There is no hiding anything from any of them. “Nope.”

  “Right.” She chuckles. “When you’re ready to talk about it, you have a room full of people who are willing to listen.”

  I know she’s right. The sad part about that is that I had that same core group, minus the wives all those years ago. I should have fessed up to what I had with Delaney. I should have never blown her off to have drinks with the guys. They would have understood. I was young, dumb, and too big of an idiot to realize what I was throwing away. I can tell you this. If by some chance one day I’m lucky enough to find that again… If I’m lucky enough to find that one person who captures my body, my heart, and my mind, I’m going to show her, tell her, and love the fuck out of her for as long as I live. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

  I’ve been dreading this day since Ridge announced that we would be working on the Nottingham Estate. Luckily with the holidays, I had a few days to get my head in order. Well, that was the plan, but pulling up to the house, my body stiffens. I’m immediately taken back to the day I drove up the winding driveway, climbed out of my truck, and knocked on the door. Tillie Nottingham answered and turned her nose up at me.

  “Yes, can I help you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was wondering if you could give me Delaney’s address.”

  “Why on heaven’s earth would I do that?” She scoffs and glances down at my dirty boots. I’ve just left the jobsite after a long day and came straight here.

  “She’s not answering her phone. I need to speak to her.” It’s been weeks since I’ve talked to her.

  “Oh, dear, you didn’t think she was serious about you, did you?” She pauses, and the expression on my face must say it all. “Oh.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “You did. That’s so… sweet. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, Delaney got back together with an old flame. They’re moving in together, so you see, you showing up on her doorstep isn’t a good idea.”

  “If you could just tell me where I can find her.” I’m kicking myself in the ass for never going to visit her at school.

  “Delaney has moved on, and there’s hope of a grandchild in my future. She doesn’t want to see you, Kenton. Please leave.” It’s with those parting words she shuts the door in my face.

  “Kent.” Mark waves his hand in front of my face. “You planning on working today, or you just want to sit in the truck and freeze your ass off?”

  “Fuck off,” I murmur, and he laughs as we climb out of the truck. Looking up at that front door, the same door that was slammed in my face, I know I gave up too easily. I should have turned over every stone, knocked on every damn door at that college until I found her. What’s that saying, I wish I would have known then what I know now? Yeah, that one hits the nail on the head.

  Ridge is already standing at the door, and when he presses the doorbell, I hold my breath. It’s not her. I know it’s not her. Ridge said that the family attorney contacted him in regard to the renovation. The estate has been vacant for almost five years.

  The family simply up and left.

  Bracing myself on the pillar of the front porch, I stand behind Ridge, Tyler, Mark, and Seth as we wait for someone to answer the door. It’s as if it happens in slow motion. The handle turns and the door pulls open. I want to close my eyes. I want to look away, but I can’t. I watch, breathless, as an older gentleman appears. My breath whooshes from my lungs, and my shoulders sag. Although it’s not with relief, it’s disappointment.

  I wanted it to be her.

  I can hear Ridge talking to him, and he invites us in. He’s been put in charge of the renovations, as we already know—ap
pointed by the family. Following them inside, I take a look around. I’ve never been here. It was too risky with her parents and the staff. They hated me, so Delaney always ended up at my place, or at the lake, sleeping under the stars. And on the nights when it was too cold at the lake, we would go to the B&B. Just another place for us to be together. Delaney always thought it was romantic.

  Never here.

  My eyes take in my surroundings. The home is huge, but it’s not over the top with decorations. I always envisioned it as a castle, but it’s not. Maybe in size, but that’s it. The living room is a light beige with dark brown furnishings. It appears to be a solid oak trim. There are family photos plastered all around, as if the family still lived here. If not for the dusty furniture, I would think they did. I’m not really sure, structurally, what is needed, and I’m sure if I had been paying attention, I would know. I can’t seem to stop taking it all in. I can see her here, feet propped up on the couch, her blonde hair splayed out on the cushions. She only lived here for a couple of years. It was her grandparents’ home, and when they passed, her parents inherited it. I guess that’s why it was so easy for them to up and walk away.

  I can’t believe I’m here. In her childhood home. What are the odds that out of all the contractors, they picked Beckett Construction? This job is unexpected, and the past is coming full circle into my present. At least the memories are—the ones I try to keep locked away. I remember her—her laugh, her smile, those never fade. But the times we shared, I try to lock that shit up tight. They surface a few times a year, but for the most part, I can move forward each day without the loss of her in my life threatening to take me under.

  Most days.

  “So, as you see, the home needs some updating in order to be placed on the market,” the attorney says. “That is the owners intentions as of now.”