Sweet Home Colorado

Repairing More Than Just A House

Grace Saunders returns to Spruce Lake, Colorado, to oversee the renovation of a house she’s inherited—and to get away from a bad divorce. She’s not planning to run into her high school sweetheart, Jack O’Malley. She has a secret she’ll give anything to keep, even when it turns out that Jack’s her new contractor.

Now Jack and Grace have to work together—and work at keeping their hands off each other. Grace is the same girl Jack used to know, the one he never got over. Jack’s grown into a man Grace could fall in love with all over again. And the entire O’Malley clan is rooting for a romantic reunion.

But should Grace keep her twelve-year-old secret? And if she tells, will Jack ever forgive her?

“If I’m going to work on this house, you’re going to help me…”

“What’s up?” Jack asked. “Your face is flushed again.”

To prevent him from asking any further questions, Grace stuck out her hand and said, “If I agree to your outrageous terms, do we have a deal?”

What was she saying? She couldn’t get out of town fast enough to prevent Jack from somehow discovering the truth she’d hidden from him for twelve long years. Yet here she was agreeing to stay and help. Still, she really needed to have the house restored before it completely fell to pieces.

And besides, how hard could it be watching Jack working under the hot sun? Seeing him again, she couldn’t get rid of the notion they had unfinished business.

She’d kept her secret safe this long, she could keep it to herself a bit longer….

Dear Reader,

One of my favorite romance themes is the reunion story. I wonder what it’s like to be reunited with your high school or college sweetheart?

In Sweet Home Colorado, Jack O’Malley, the last of the O’Malley men to find love, is knocked off his feet when his high school sweetheart, Grace Saunders, returns to Spruce Lake. At first he’s reluctant to have anything to do with Grace, but he soon finds himself under her spell and agreeing to renovate the house she’s inherited from her great-aunt.

Jack is the one person Grace hopes she won’t run into in Spruce Lake, but—doing a bit of matchmaking—her lawyer employs Jack as the contractor responsible for renovating the old Victorian that now belongs to her.

Grace has a secret she’s kept from Jack for more than a dozen years, and now her greatest fear is that he’ll discover what it is!

Did I tell you my other favorite theme was secret babies?

Find out how Grace and Jack’s relationship develops into love and how they resolve their differences once Jack discovers Grace’s secret.

This is the fifth and final installment of The O’Malley Men series. I hope you’ve enjoyed seeing the O’Malley brothers fall in love as much as I have.

I enjoy hearing from readers. You can write to me at cc@cccoburn.com.

Happy reading and healthy lives!

C.C. Coburn

Sweet Home Colorado

C.C. Coburn

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

C.C. Coburn was born in the heart of Australia’s outback, then moved to its Pacific Coast. She’s traveled the world, lived in England, Austria and the USA and still counts traveling as one of her passions.

She learned to ski in Austria, then discovered Colorado’s majestic Rocky Mountains and bought a home there. She now divides her time between Australia, Colorado and England, where one of her three children lives. Her other children still call Australia home.

C.C. shares her life with a beautiful Labrador and a man who, after thirty-two years of marriage, still looks pretty darned good in his kilt.

Many thanks to

My faithful reader Jan Durkin.

Talented author and nurse Fiona Lowe.

Handyman Garth Stroble.

My wonderful editor, Paula Eykelhof.

And as always, Keith.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Preview

Prologue

“Jack? Are you still there?”

Jack O’Malley took a seat on the front steps of the house he’d just finished restoring in Spruce Lake, Colorado. He cradled his cell phone against his shoulder and wiped his brow. It was hot. Damned hot for June. Especially June in the Rockies. “I’m still here, Mike, and the answer’s still no.”

“C’mon, it’s only an estimate. You’ve got time for that, haven’t you?”

Jack groaned. It was flattering to be in demand for his services as a contractor who specialized in high-quality home-building and renovation, but one day he’d like to be able to take a holiday. With the way work kept piling up, that wasn’t going to happen any time in the next decade. And now his friend and lawyer, Mike Cochrane, wanted to heap on more work. He’d already turned down the same job late last week, when Mike first contacted him about it. Now Mike was sounding desperate.

“Like I told you, Jack, my client’s a doctor. And you know how much I need new clients—wealthy ones.”

Jack gave a snort of disgust. “And like I told you, Mike, the answer’s still no.”

“Aw, c’mon, Jack. Buddy,” he said, drawing out the last word. “You’re the only person capable of restoring that Victorian on Lincoln.”

Just as it had last week, Jack’s heart rate kicked up a notch at the mention of the old house. Gracie Saunders, the girl he’d dated in high school, had lived there. Missy Saunders, her great-aunt, had owned the house, but she’d moved to the Twilight Years retirement home a decade ago. The place had been rented out over the years, until it fell into such a state of disrepair no one wanted to live there. Missy had passed away a couple of years back and Jack assumed the house had been sold to the doctor—who’d probably, like too many of Spruce Lake’s second-home owners, use it two weeks a year and leave it vacant for the other fifty.

He took a long swig of orange juice. “Since when did you start pimping for clients wanting their houses restored?”

“Since a friend of a friend told this doctor I had contacts here in Spruce Lake. Contacts who were reliable.”

Jack didn’t miss the inflection in Mike’s voice. If he said no to the estimate, he’d be letting Mike down. Mike had done a lot for the O’Malleys, especially helping Jack’s brother Will foil the development company that had wanted to tear down half the old buildings on Main Street and put up a bunch of condos and a shopping mall. Their plan would’ve destroyed the Victorian-era character of the town. Instead, Will and his supporters had saved the buildings from destruction and Jack had spent the past few years restoring many of them.

But his next project was building a new home for Adam, his wife, Carly, and their kids. Adam had got land at a bargain-basement price from Will, who’d recently subdivided the ranch he’d bought a dozen years earlier into ranchettes of around ten acres each. The ranchettes had funded the purchase of buildings on Main Street to save them from destruction.

Jack couldn’t disappoint Adam and Carly. The house they presently lived in was getting to be way too small for Adam’s growing family. Jack’s youngest brother had married a widow with four children. Then they’d adopted two dogs and a cat from the animal shelter. And now Carly was pregnant.

“I’d love to restore that beauty to her former grandeur, Mike, but right now I don’t have the time. You know I’m slated to start work on Adam and Carly’s place next.”

It sure would be nice to renovate the old Victorian, though. The house had stood empty and neglected for too long. Jack scratched the rash on the inside of his elbow, then felt the need to scratch the one behind his knee. He’d have to see a doctor about the damned things pretty soon. Another doctor. That senile old fool Jenkins and his expensive creams hadn’t helped the rashes he’d been plagued with for the past couple of months. In fact, they just kept getting worse. The guy ought to be put out to pasture. “When’s your client going to be here?”

“Tomorrow. And I’m supposed to have found and employed a contractor by then.”

“Again, I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on me doing this. I didn’t know lawyers did stuff like that for their clients.”

“Jack, lawyers would walk barefoot over hot coals for their clients.”

Jack let out a guffaw of derision. “Yeah, right! Pull the other leg—it plays ‘Jingle Bells.’ What you mean is—so long as they pay you enough, you’d do the hot-coals walk.”

“I’ve already received a hefty advance for finding the right contractor. Naturally, the doc is now one of my most important clients.”

“Yeah, he’s probably, apart from me, your only client!”

He could hear the smile in Mike’s voice. One thing Mike wasn’t short of was clients. Too bad a lot of them failed to pay up. “C’mon, Jack. Gimme a break and get an estimate to me, ASAP?”

Jack grimaced. He knew what Mike was saying and it wasn’t too far from the truth—his lawyer could do with building up his client base. A paying client base. Too often softhearted Mike ended up footing the bill for his clients. Snaring a doctor, one prepared to send an advance, was a coup.

Spruce Lake, nestled in the Colorado Rockies, was a ski and summer resort that, until a decade ago, had been a well-kept secret. However, it was now being discovered, and those in the know had been snapping up properties for a good few years. That helped boost the local economy, but Jack wasn’t sure he welcomed the change to his formerly sleepy hometown.

In Jack’s opinion, Spruce Lake was picture-postcard perfect. Filled with a mixture of old Victorians and more modern homes, its main attraction was an unsurpassed ski mountain during the winter. It also offered myriad summer activities from hiking and bike riding to golfing and white-water rafting, fishing, mine tours and a thriving Main Street market.

The only problem, according to the Chamber of Commerce, was that the rest of the world had barely heard of the place. Sure, Aspen and Vail were household names for the dedicated skier, celebrity and socialite, but Spruce Lake had yet to be discovered by the glitterati—which suited Jack just fine. Small-town life was what he knew and loved. He didn’t want to live anywhere else, and if this rich doctor client of Mike’s wanted to preserve some of the town’s unique beauty by restoring Missy Saunders’s old Victorian, then he should be willing to help out—a little, anyway.

“I’ll see what I can do about an estimate, Mike.”

“Great! I knew I could rely on you, buddy. Can I have it first thing tomorrow?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m serious. This is urgent.”

Jack sighed. Mike was certainly keen to impress his client. “You seem to forget there’s more than the carpentry to quote on. There’s also, plumbing, electrical, roofing—”

“Yeah, yeah. A guesstimate will be fine. I just need something!”

Jack shook his head. Mike wasn’t going to quit nagging until he agreed. “I’ll get it to you by noon. How’s that sound? And listen, it’s just an estimate for comparison purposes. I really don’t have the time to do the work. I’ve made a promise to Adam and Carly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, I gotta go.” He suddenly cut the connection.

Jack stared at his cell phone. For someone who claimed he didn’t have enough paying clients, Mike sure was busy. Since moving back to town from a big practice in Colorado Springs, the guy had gotten himself elected to the Chamber of Commerce, so maybe he had some business to attend to there.

He wasn’t due anywhere for a couple of hours so Jack figured he might as well head over to the house. He wouldn’t need a key to get in—one of the front windows had been smashed recently by some kids on spring break. At the very least, he should board it up against further vandalism.

Chapter One

Jack eased his old truck against the curb behind a bright red BMW Z4 parked outside Missy Saunders’s and wished he had the time to work on the house. He hated to see the magnificent old buildings of the former gold-mining town lying unloved and unkept. This home was a particularly fine specimen, built by a miner who’d struck it rich with a huge nugget back in the 1870s. It had passed down through the miner’s family, eventually going to Missy Saunders. Missy was an only child and had never married. Jack guessed it had been sold long ago to pay Missy’s nursing-home fees. The sweet old lady had spent a while at the Twilight Years before passing on. Jack regretted he hadn’t been living in Spruce Lake so he could’ve attended her funeral—especially since his mom had reported that Gracie had made a brief appearance to pay her respects to her great-aunt. He wished he’d seen her then. It might have helped him make up his mind about a few things, maybe get her out of his system once and for all.

He shook his head to clear it. No point in reminiscing about what might have been. He and Gracie were history. She was never coming back to town; she’d told him as much. He really needed to get over her and move on with his life. His realization that he was still in love with her had helped him decide that he’d never make a priest and he’d left the seminary in L.A. before being ordained. Although there’d been other reasons for leaving, Gracie had been the main one. But she was a married woman and therefore off-limits, so instead he’d channeled his energies into a carpentry apprenticeship, then worked with underprivileged kids helping them learn a trade and life skills. It was rewarding work, but a lonely life nevertheless.

Since returning to Spruce Lake a couple of years ago, Jack had restored many of the town’s Victorian-era buildings—but none of them had the size and grandeur of Missy Saunders’s place. Still, there were other contractors in the county, whom Mike had probably been sweet-talking all week. Funny that no one else had taken on the project.

Parked in front of the sports car was his new truck, emblazoned with Jack O’Malley Constructions on the doors. Jack had taken delivery of the Dodge Ram only last week. And he hated it. It was just too new and shiny for him. He preferred his old Ford F150.

Jack had had Betsy since high school and, before that, she’d been used to run around the family ranch, Two Elk. She had over a million miles on the clock and wasn’t missing a beat. Her seats were worn and comfortable and fitted Jack’s butt like a glove.

He’d felt like a traitor when he’d taken Betsy down to trade her in on the Dodge. They’d offered peanuts for her, so he’d kept Betsy and bought the Dodge.

Two days later he gave the Dodge to his foreman, Al Hernandez, to drive. Al was only too happy to use the boss’s truck, with its smell of new leather and its too shiny paintwork. Al had three young boys, and the twin cab arrangement suited his family perfectly.

Jack had arranged to meet Al at the house, figuring the two of them would get through the assessment twice as fast. He’d blow this doctor off with a ridiculously high estimate and then he’d be able to start on Adam’s place with a clear conscience—and the knowledge that another contractor in town would get the job. Not that any other contractor would be as good as Jack and his team, but what did this doctor think? That he could snap his fingers and have someone start immediately?

The door of the sports car opened and a woman stepped out. Her dark hair fell across her face, hiding her features, but Jack didn’t miss the oh-so-long legs and trim figure as she stalked around the front of her sports car and onto the sidewalk.

She walked with confidence, like a woman used to getting her own way. She, and the car, looked totally out of place in Spruce Lake. Jack’s hometown was more battered SUVs, jeans and cowboy boots—not flashy sports cars, designer dresses and six-inch heels.

One of those heels wedged itself in a crack in the sidewalk.

Jack watched as she bent to pull it out, revealing a lot more leg...and the bright red undersides of her shoes.

He enjoyed the show, wondering who this fish out of water could be visiting in Spruce Lake, because for sure she wasn’t local. Jack would’ve noticed her way before this if she was.

He could hear her cursing through the open window of his truck. Time to rescue the damsel in distress, he decided as he climbed out and sauntered over to the woman. “Need any help?” he asked.

She stopped cussing and pulling at her leg long enough to stand up to her full height and look him in the eye.

Jack felt the sucker punch right to his gut. He’d know those bewitching light brown eyes, that pert nose, those soft full lips, anywhere.

Gracie.

She’d lost a good fifteen pounds, had her hair cut and styled and was wearing way too much makeup, but it was her, all right.

He swallowed and said, “Hi, Gracie.”

She frowned and said, “Do I know you?”

Jack felt the sucker punch again as she reminded him how insignificant a part of her life he’d been, in spite of their dating for nearly two years in high school.

He pulled off his sunglasses and held out his hand. “Jack O’Malley. We dated for a while. Remember?”

Jack had fallen hard for Gracie the day she’d entered his classroom in their junior year. She’d graduated with an A-plus average, while Jack—thanks to his dyslexia—had barely scraped through. She’d won a scholarship to college, then medical school. Jack hadn’t fared quite so well—at least, not scholastically. He’d joined the peace corps right out of high school and worked on projects around the world for two years. He’d come home, drifted through college. Then, believing it was the best way to answer his calling to help others, he entered the seminary.

She stared at Jack, glanced at Betsy and then at his shiny new truck with Jack O’Malley Constructions on the door, and finally back at him. “Jack? You’re my contractor?”

“You inherited the house from your Aunt Missy?”

She shrugged. “Sort of. It’s a long story.”

One Jack was curious about since if anyone should have inherited, he’d expected it to be Gracie’s bum of a father. So Mike was well aware of who the owner was and Jack’s connection to her.

Meddling Mike wasn’t above a bit of matchmaking. Well, he’d lose any bets on this one.

Mike probably figured Jack wouldn’t be able to say no to his high school sweetheart. Mike was wrong.

“I’m not your contractor,” he said, almost wishing—perversely—that he was. He had something to prove to Gracie Saunders. “I agreed to do an estimate, for comparison’s sake. That’s all.”

“He told me...” She suddenly seemed to remember that her shoe was still stuck in the sidewalk and bent again to try pulling it out. Since the heels were so high and her dress so short and tight-fitting, it wasn’t an easy task.

“Allow me,” Jack said, and knelt at her feet. He grimaced at the metaphor. He’d virtually worshipped the ground Gracie walked on in high school. She’d been his first girlfriend. His first lover. And then she’d walked all over his heart.

He gently grasped her ankle in one hand and her shoe in the other.

* * *

GRACE FELT A SHOT of heat race up her leg at Jack’s touch. She watched as those big, capable hands eased her foot from her Christian Louboutin pump and placed it on the sidewalk while he worked on getting her shoe out of the crack. Jack had sure grown up. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him. He was so much taller, so much broader. Jack was no longer a high school boy; he was a man, and that resonated deep inside her.

But Jack was the one person whose path she hadn’t wanted to cross in Spruce Lake. If they spent any time together, she was afraid he’d discover her secret, which had the potential to destroy them both.

“Careful!” she warned as he pulled her shoe from the walk.

Jack stood to his full height, towering over her by at least eight inches now that she was balancing on her foot without the benefit of six-inch heels.

He examined the shoe, then handed it to her, saying, “Why anyone would want to wear something as impractical as this is beyond my comprehension.”

Grace had worn those shoes to impress. Impress anyone from her past she might happen to run into in Spruce Lake. She wanted to show them that Grace Saunders—in spite of her crappy home life, her loser parents, her hand-me-down clothes—had made good. In fact, she’d made better than good. She was a successful Boston pediatrician with a long list of patients.

Her shoulders sagged. A list of patients she’d handed over in her haste to leave town. She might be financially secure and successful. But she was also completely burned out.

She took the shoe from Jack and examined the heel. It was shattered. She cursed.

“Thank you is the usual form of appreciation in this town,” he said.

She glanced up at him and said, “So, I heard you’d become a priest or something?”

* * *

HE NODDED. “OR SOMETHING. I’m now a contractor.” No point in telling her the whole story. She wouldn’t be in town long enough for it to matter.

“My contractor.”

He shook his head. “I’ve already told Mike I couldn’t do this job.”

“Even if I paid you double?”

Now he stuck both hands in the back pockets of his jeans. She had him there. Money always talked and he had plenty of community projects he could direct some extra funds to, but Adam and Carly were family. He owed them.

“Not even then.”

“I don’t remember you being such a hard case in high school, Jack,” she said, practically batting her eyelashes at him.

“High school was a long time ago, Gracie,” he said, since she seemed to be avoiding the fact that they’d dated for two years.

When Gracie had put her name forward as a peer tutor, Jack, struggling because of dyslexia, had signed up. They’d spent a lot of time together after school hours and eventually he’d built up the courage to ask her out. She’d said, “What took you so long? Where did you have in mind?”

Jack had been so flabbergasted, never believing she’d say yes, that he didn’t have anywhere in mind. Except to go parking at Inspiration Point, the local necking spot. Not that he’d ever necked with a girl. And he didn’t get to do it that night, either. But later...

“What do you mean, ‘Not even then’?” she demanded, bringing him back to the present.

Jack crossed his arms and widened his stance. “I’m due to start work on my brother’s house outside town tomorrow. I don’t break my promises.”

* * *

GRACE ADMIRED HIS candor. Then a need to prick the confidence he was projecting made her say, “Didn’t you break your promise to the church by leaving the priesthood?” Aunt Missy had written her about it.

His eyes narrowed. “My relationship with the church, and why I left, is none of your business.”

Dammit! She was intrigued and couldn’t let it go. “Did you fall in love with one of your parishioners?”

“And you just stepped way over the mark.” He gave her a tiny salute, saying, “Goodbye, Gracie,” turned on his heel and headed to his truck. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure. But it hasn’t.”