Built To Last (Saltwater Springs #1)

A
t seventeen
, the small town of Saltwater Springs had been everything to Scarlett Devereaux—as had her boyfriend Luke. Never had she imagined she’d have to leave them both behind…until the night that changed everything. A decade after skipping town, Scarlett returns to start over in the only place that ever really felt like home. But when nothing goes as planned, she’s forced to turn to the man she once loved for help.

With a drunk for a dad and a mom making pocket change at the local diner, no one ever thought Luke Garrity would amount to anything. After building a successful contracting business, he’s proven everyone wrong professionally, but things in his personal life are upside down. Making it the exact
wrong
time for Scarlett to return to Saltwater Springs.

With a history of devastation and heartbreak between them, can Scarlett and Luke make amends, or will secrets from the past threaten the foundation of Scarlett’s new life? Were Luke and Scarlett really built to last?

Sign up for the author’s New Releases Mailing List and get a FREE copy of the first book in the Limelight series,
Rumor Has It.

C
lick here to get started
:
Elisabeth-Grace.com

T
o Shawna
…who has been one of my loudest cheerleaders from the start, my sounding board, and at times my sanity.

S
he’d had a plan
.

Finish school, open up her own accounting firm, get married, move to the suburbs to pop out two point five kids, and live behind a white picket fence. Happily ever after. End of story.

Instead, Scarlett Deveareux found herself sitting in the middle of a storefront in her hometown of Saltwater Springs, South Carolina surrounded by sheetrock, two-by-fours, and various other construction equipment. She was an orphan, near broke, and had no idea how she was going to get herself out of this godforsaken mess she was in.

She swiped at the single tear that tracked down her pale cheek. She would
not
cry. Deveareuxs didn’t cry. They did what needed doing. As the only child of Southern aristocrats, that mantra had been drilled into her head since birth.

Scarlett pushed up off the cold floor and brushed the wetness from her cheeks, dusted her hands down the front of her pants and pulled her thick, dark hair back into a ponytail. She could do this. The contractor would be there soon, and this guy was not leaving until he had agreed to help her.

She’d just finished sweeping up and leaned the broom against the wall when she heard rapping on the door. Scarlett turned to find a portly man in his mid-fifties waiting outside. Decked out in denim overalls with a ratty t-shirt underneath, he certainly looked the part of a contractor. His hair appeared a little greasy and he could use a shave, but she tried not to judge. He didn’t need to be good-looking to get the job done.

With a friendly smile on her face, she unlocked the door and motioned for him to enter. “You must be Eric.”

“Yep” was all he said as he walked into her own personal hell. The smell of booze immediately assaulted her senses. This guy smelled like he’d been doused in whiskey. Scarlett glanced at her watch—it was still only noon. I guess he started early. If his goal was to be shitfaced by lunch, he’d succeeded. It was good to have goals, she supposed.

“I’m Scarlett Deveareux. It’s good to meet you.” She held her hand out. Eric took it and she fought the overwhelming urge to remove herself from his grasp when his clammy hand enveloped her own.

He tilted his head to the side. “Deveareux? Were you the one that sold the ol’ Deveareux place?” Scarlett tugged her hand from his. “The judge’s house before he died?”

Scarlett blanched at his candor but decided not to call him out on it. She couldn’t afford to piss him off.

The tears pricking her eyes and threatening to darken the concrete below were because of all that had happened as a result of that head-on collision years before. Her father had been a judge, her mother a socialite. Both had been highly revered in the community and she’d wanted for nothing growing up.

After their deaths, it had come to light that her father had made some bad investments, putting her family deep in debt. What’s worse, he’d mortgaged their family home to the hilt. Scarlett hadn’t visited for years before her parents’ demise—a fact that ate at her conscience almost daily since their passing. So when she’d returned to bury them, she’d been shocked at the state of disrepair the family home was in. It’d always been a source of pride passed down from one Deveareux to another.

At the time, Scarlett had been unsure what she wanted to do with the house. She’d continued running her accounting firm from Boston, doing her best to make the payments on the house in Saltwater Springs until she was able to come to a decision.

Six months earlier, she’d
finally
made that decision.

She’d closed her accounting firm and returned home a month ago to open a bakery on Main Street. The idea sounded crazy to most who knew the Deveareux family, but she’d never loved accounting. She’d attended college and pursued a professional career because that’s what a Deveareux did. With her parents’ expectations no longer bearing down on her, she’d decided to pursue her own dream—to run a successful bakery. The feeling of freedom had been accompanied with one of deep, aching loss.

In the end, she’d had to sell the family home. The monthly payments on the refinanced amount were too hefty, even with a successful accounting firm to her name. Plus, she’d needed all the money she left Boston with to get the bakery up and running.

“I don’t got all day, lady.”

Eric’s crass words pulled Scarlett from her thoughts. “Um…yes, that’s me. Anyway, as you can see, the place is still a bit of a mess.” Scarlett motioned around the room. “All of the kitchen equipment is in those boxes at the back, but I need the walls and flooring finished...among other things.”

Eric put his hands on his hips and turned around, surveying the place. His large belly looked as if it would pop the seams on his overalls at any second. “There’s a lot to be done here. When do you need it finished by?” Turning in circles must have made him dizzy because he wobbled to the side a bit, catching his balance at the last second before he crashed to the floor.

“I need to have this store open before Thanksgiving.” Scarlett bit her bottom lip in anticipation of his response.

“I don’t see that happenin’,” he said with a shake of his head.

“It has to. The success of my entire business depends on it.”

The corners of his mouth pulled down. “Let me take some measurements…see what I think.”

Scarlett let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

As Eric made his way to the back of the store, she strode up to the large window that looked out over picturesque Main Street.

She’d hired a contractor to fix up the storefront she’d leased with plans to turn it into the bakery of her dreams. Only she’d chosen the wrong guy. Apparently her picker was off because her original contractor had run off with most of her money and done next to none of the work.

Now she had to find someone else to finish the job on the cheap—and quickly. Tourists wouldn’t be rolling back into town until the spring, and since Scarlett had no financial cushion left, she needed to be open by Thanksgiving to capitalize on the townspeople’s holiday spending. It would help to keep her afloat during the lean winter months.

Thinking positive thoughts, she daydreamed about what the store would look like finished. How it would have a welcoming and cozy feel to it, complete with hardwood flooring and small bistro tables for those customers who wanted to grab a treat and stay awhile.

Scarlett wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, but it dawned on her that she hadn’t heard Eric moving around for a bit. When she turned around, she saw why.

“Damn it,” she cursed. Passed out cold, it looked like he’d slid down the wall behind him—his back against it, his legs straight out in front of him. “This cannot be happening.” He was the only contractor she’d found who was available on such short notice, and now this idiot was passed out. She stalked toward him and stopped in her tracks when the bell over the door dinged. She needed to remember to lock that door.

Looking over her shoulder, she was relieved to see Layla, her best friend since childhood, standing there surveying the place. “I’m so glad to see you. You’re never going to believe what happened.”

Layla nodded to the sleeping behemoth. “I’m not sure that’s gonna sell cupcakes, doll.”

Scarlett pursed her lips, not in the mood for Layla’s usual sarcasm. “He’s supposed to be here to quote the job for me, but instead he came in smelling like a liquor factory and now he’s passed out!” The ire in her voice rose the longer she spoke.

“You’re shitting me.” Layla laughed, but pressed her lips together to stop herself when Scarlett threw her a look of disdain.

“Do I look like a woman who has the capacity to be shitting anyone about anything right now?” Her cheeks grew hot.

Layla smirked, then walked over to the snoozing giant and kicked the sole of his boot. “Hey. Get up.” He didn’t even twitch. How much had this guy had to drink today? She kicked his boot again, harder this time. Still nothing.

Scarlett let out a deep sigh and massaged her temples. “What are we going to do?”

Layla put her hands on her hips, looking thoughtful for a moment before responding. “There’s only one thing to do.” She pulled her purse off her shoulder and rifled through it for a moment before pulling out a bottle of water. Scarlett looked on with mild amusement at her free-spirited friend, whose hair was currently dyed pink, as she removed the lid off the bottle. “Bottoms up,” Layla said and poured the liquid over the top of Eric’s head.

Almost immediately, Eric sprung up from the floor, faster than she ever would have thought a man of his size was capable of. “What the…?” His head pinged back and forth between the two women, and when he spotted the empty bottle of water in Layla’s hand, he directed his anger at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Layla cocked her hip and her hand shot to her waist. “You’re one to talk. What’re you doing showing up to an appointment drunker than a skunk?”

Eric swung his attention back to Scarlett. “Who the hell is this?”

Ignoring his question, she did the only thing she could do, though she hated more than anything that she had to do it. “I think it’d be best if you left.”

Eric narrowed his eyes at her. He could try his best at intimidation, but she’d grown up in a house where that very skill was used in an effort to control her. This guy was nothing she couldn’t handle. “What about the job you were so desperate to get done here? You think you’re going to find anyone else who can do it on such short notice?”

“Probably not, but I’m beginning to realize why
you
were the only contractor available on short notice. You can see yourself out,” she said, nodding toward the door.

He stood there for a moment, huffing and puffing like he wasn’t going anywhere, his face red, his fists clenched at his sides. When the realization that Scarlett wasn’t going to change her mind set in, he let out a growl and stomped out the door.

Layla blew out a breath. “Well, that was entertaining. You ready for lunch?”

Scarlett gave a short laugh. Nothing much ever fazed her friend, who was one of the reasons Scarlett had decided to start over here, rather than somewhere new. When she was on the brink of breaking down because everything was falling apart, Layla was guaranteed to keep her spirits up.

“I can’t afford to go out for lunch—the time or the money. I need to figure out a solution to my problem.” She eyed the space surrounding them.

Layla walked over and hooked her arm through Scarlett’s. “Well, my friend, that’s hard to do on an empty stomach. Let’s head across the street to the deli and grab a sandwich while we talk it over. My treat.”

“What would I do without you?” Scarlett remarked as they made their way out of the building.

“I know one thing’s for sure.”

“What’s that?”

“You’d still have a drunk passed out in your store.”

They laughed together as they crossed the street. Despite everything, it was good to be home. And it was good to laugh even though there was nothing funny about her situation.

A
ham
and cheese on rye and an injection of caffeine later, the two friends still hadn’t come up with a magical solution to Scarlett’s mounting problems. But Layla had been right—everything did seem a tad better with a full belly.

Scarlett was tossing her trash in the garbage when her gaze wandered up to the bulletin board over the top of the trash can. As if by divine intervention, a bright orange ad for a general contractor caught her attention. She scanned it, liking what she saw. The company could provide references, was insured, and had been in business for almost ten years.

For the first time since her money had been stolen, Scarlett felt hope and excitement twisted her stomach in knots. She ripped the phone number off the bottom of the ad and stared at the ten digits that could very well be her saving grace.

“What do you have there?” Layla asked from behind her.

Scarlett whipped around and held the small piece of orange paper up in front of Layla, shaking it back and forth. “I found this ad on the bulletin board. This is the answer to my problems…I can feel it.”

Her friend’s eyes darted to the ad behind her. “Old South Contracting.”

“Do you know them?” Scarlett asked, hoping with everything inside her that Layla wouldn’t have anything negative to say about the company’s reputation.

She pursed her lips and seemed to think about it. “Nope. I don’t know anyone personally that’s used their contracting services.”

It wasn’t an endorsement, but it wasn’t a warning either. Right now, that was good enough. “I’m going to call them,” Scarlett said, looking down at the paper. “Oh, it says here to text the owner. I’ll text him right now.”

Layla grinned. “You should definitely do that.”

Scarlett was already nodding as she pulled her phone from her purse and began entering the phone number. She tapped out her message, describing the job and the tight timeline, asking if someone from the company would be willing to give her an estimate.

Almost immediately, a response came back.

“Well, what does it say?” Layla asked, impatience and curiosity ringing in her voice.

Scarlett almost couldn’t believe it as she read the response. “It says they had a cancellation for an appointment later this afternoon and can make it today. How amazing is that?” She grinned over at her friend.

Layla wrapped her arms around Scarlett and pulled her in for a hug. “I have a feeling everything is going to start turning around for you, my friend.”

“I hope you’re right,” Scarlett said, pulling away from the embrace.

Layla winked at her. “Trust me. This is the start of a whole new adventure.”