Love and Landscape (Rockland Falls Book 3) Read online

  Love and Landscape

  Rockland Falls Book 3

  Copyright © 2019 Lacey Black

  Photograph by Sara Eirew

  Cover Design by Melissa Gill Designs

  Editing by Kara Hildebrand

  Proofreading by Joanne Thompson & Karen Hrdlicka

  Format by Brenda Wright, Formatting Done Wright

  This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  All rights reserved.

  Index

  Also by Lacey Black

  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

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Lacey Black

  Rivers Edge series

  Trust Me, Rivers Edge book 1 (Maddox and Avery) – FREE at all retailers

  ~ #1 Bestseller in Contemporary Romance

  Fight Me, Rivers Edge book 2 (Jake and Erin)

  Expect Me, Rivers Edge book 3 (Travis and Josselyn)

  Promise Me: A Novella, Rivers Edge book 3.5 (Jase and Holly)

  Protect Me, Rivers Edge book 4 (Nate and Lia)

  Boss Me, Rivers Edge book 5 (Will and Carmen)

  Trust Us: A Rivers Edge Christmas Novella (Maddox and Avery)

  ~ This novella was originally part of the Christmas Miracles Anthology

  BOX SET – contains all 5 novels, 2 novellas, and a BONUS short story

  Bound Together series

  Submerged, Bound Together book 1 (Blake and Carly)

  ~ An International Bestseller

  Profited, Bound Together book 2 (Reid and Dani)

  ~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

  Entwined, Bound Together book 3 (Luke and Sidney)

  Summer Sisters series

  My Kinda Kisses, Summer Sisters book 1 (Jaime and Ryan)

  ~A Bestseller, reaching Top 100 on 2 e-retailers

  My Kinda Night, Summer Sisters book 2 (Payton and Dean)

  My Kinda Song, Summer Sisters book 3 (Abby and Levi)

  My Kinda Mess, Summer Sisters book 4 (Lexi and Linkin)

  My Kinda Player, Summer Sisters book 5 (AJ and Sawyer)

  My Kinda Player, Summer Sisters book 6 (Meghan and Nick)

  My Kinda Wedding, A Summer Sisters Novella book 7 (Meghan and Nick)

  Rockland Falls series

  Love and Pancakes, Rockland Falls book 1

  Love and Lingerie, Rockland Falls book 2

  Love and Landscape, Rockland Falls book 3

  Standalone

  Music Notes, a sexy contemporary romance standalone

  A Place To Call Home, a Memorial Day novella

  Exes and Ho Ho Ho’s, a sexy contemporary romance standalone novella

  Co-Written with NYT Bestselling Author, Kaylee Ryan

  It’s Not Over

  *Coming Soon from Lacey Black

  With Me, a Rivers Edge Christmas Novella

  Love and Neckties, Book 4 in the Rockland Falls series

  Just Getting Started, Book 2 with Kaylee Ryan

  Chapter One

  Jensen

  I yawn for the fourth time in under five minutes.

  Last night was rough. Ashley called three times with some sort of issue regarding our four-year-old son, Max. First, he wouldn’t eat his dinner. An hour later, he didn’t want to take a bath. Then finally, he refused to go to sleep. It was all bullshit.

  By the time the third call came through just after nine, I was already shoving my tired feet into my worn work boots and was grabbing my keys. The drive to my ex-wife’s house was short, considering I intentionally rented a house in the same neighborhood once I realized our marriage wasn’t going to be saved. I wanted to be close to Max. I wanted as much time with him as possible. I wanted to give him a slice of normalcy, no matter what that ended up being.

  Unfortunately, it ended up being two parents who still argue and fight (albeit outside of his earshot) over stupid shit we have no business fighting over. Divorce is hard, that’s for damn sure. It’s not how I saw my life going; definitely not what I pictured would happen before I even hit my thirties.

  Now, here I am: thirty years old, co-parenting with a woman who teeters the line between hating me and wanting me back (not happening, by the way), and working myself into an early grave.

  But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  Well, maybe less of the guilt trips from the ex, but everything else is on point and keeping my ass extremely busy.

  Case in point: I’m driving to meet an attorney on behalf of a new client. A new client who just so happens to have purchased the biggest house in Rockland Falls. A house that has a lot of history. My history.

  But I’m not getting into that now. I have too much shit to do on this gorgeous, sunny August afternoon than to take a painfully uncomfortable trip down memory lane. Right now, I have to get myself in business mode and present new landscape design plans to a man from New York. It’s the first time I’m laying eyes on the entire property in more than a decade, but I know it like the back of my hand. I know it hasn’t been touched since the previous owners moved out, leaving their million-dollar mansion for a new place in the Hamptons, leaving everything behind without batting an eye. That means I’ll be dealing with out of control weeds and shrubbery, and probably a little damage to the foundation. No, I’m not talking the house foundation, but the ground. The dirt. The ornate stonework. The sprinkler system. It’ll be a mess, but I’m up to the job.

  When I approach the large gate, I find it already open. I turn my big truck onto the concrete drive and slowly make my way up to the house. Overgrown isn’t exactly the word I’d use right now. The place looks like absolute shit. The shrubs hang over the drive and the grass is completely overtaken by weeds, and that’s just the initial assessment from the gate. As I continue up the path, the house finally comes into view.

  The Elliott mansion, or House on the Coast, as it was called when featured in Unique Homes magazine.

  The older home stands before me, looking a little worse for wear. The drapes are all pulled shut, giving the house a dark, empty feel. The paint is chipping on the ground-to-roof pillars. The large fountain on the front lawn is full of leaves and a tree branch. There’s an odd smell that tells me something has crawled off somewhere to die, possibly a raccoon or an opossum. The property looks like a war zone and has definitely seen better days.

  I park my truck next to a fancy Mercedes with New York plates. A man wearing a suit more expensive than my truck payment steps out of the house and greets me in front of our vehicles. “Mr. Grayson, so wonderful to finally meet you,” he says, extending his hand and offering a firm
handshake.

  “Likewise, Mr. Paige. And please, call me Jensen.”

  “David,” he instructs, offering me a friendly smile. “As you can see, the property is requiring a little work. The owner has instructed me to hire a local landscaper to do whatever necessary to get the property back in tip-top shape. Most of the shrubbery needs to go, if not all of it. That’s your call,” he says, walking toward the fountain. “The owner would like to try to salvage the fountain, if possible, but wants to add more flower gardens, primarily here in the front,” he adds, waving his hand to the grassy area around the ornate fountain, “and along the deck area in back.”

  I jot down notes in my book, keep pace with the attorney as we tour the front of the property. Eventually, we head toward the back and my heart starts to pound in my chest. Memories flash through my mind in a rapid-fire sequence. Much of my youth was spent here, right alongside the first girl I loved.

  Pushing those thoughts away, I scan the expansive property. The pool is still there, empty except for leaves, sand, and what looks like rodent hotels made from sticks and mud. That’ll be a bitch to clean. The hand-stamped, hand-laid pavers wrap around the in-ground pool, leading to the area once covered with deck chairs. Those chairs are still there, but are dirty and broken, most likely from the decade’s worth of weather and sun.

  “The owner wants to keep the pool, and gave specific instructions about the pool house,” David says, pulling my attention away from the current state of the pool area and glancing toward the small structure just off to the side.

  My heart gallops in my chest as I look at the building I had been avoiding to glance at thus far. The memories come fast and hard. Shared kisses, stolen nights, and an awkward first time all entombed within those four walls. It holds my past, and being here again is like a dagger to the heart. It’s a reminder of plans made and then thrown out the window. It’s a shrine to the girl who stole my heart and then trampled it into the sand beneath our feet. Being here is much more painful than I had anticipated, like being surrounded by ghosts.

  I don’t speak as he goes through the instructions, detailing what the new owner would like done to the backyard. It’ll be a massive job, a huge undertaking, and that’s without the fountain, pool, and pool house work.

  But I’m going to do it.

  I’m taking this job in hopes of eradicating those ghosts, those memories. It’s time to move on. I thought I had once, but that wasn’t what I did. I put a Band-Aid over gaping wounds in hopes of fixing the problem. It didn’t. The only thing that helped with the healing was Max. Even when everything with Ashley went to shit, he was the balm that helped heal my aching heart. Those scars are still very much a part of me, but having my son has given me something else to focus on.

  Something greater to live for.

  At the end of the meeting, I shake David’s hand, promising to get him my designs by the end of the week. Since I’m the only landscape architect they’ve inquired about, the job is already mine. I can start as soon as the designs are complete, and then I can move on with my life and my business. Upward and onward, as my mom would say. It’s time to leave the past where it belongs.

  In the past.

  And as soon as I complete this job, I’ll be able to do just that.

  * * *

  Come Thursday, I pull my truck up to the home I helped purchase a few years back. The small three-bedroom ranch sits on a corner lot and features a large backyard, perfect for our young son. At the time, I thought this house was what we needed to fix our problems. Turns out, purchasing a house only comes with a whole slew of new problems. Bills to pay, upkeep to maintain, and space to fill with things. Ashley was all about the last one, going shopping as often as possible to fill our new home with crap. Often, she’d use Max as her excuse to spend every last penny we had in the checking account, but the truth is, she is materialistic as hell. Keeping up with the Joneses is one of Ashley’s favorite pastimes.

  I head up the walk, noting the disarray of the landscaping. Part of me wants to offer to fix it, but it’s not my problem now. If Ashley doesn’t want to trim the shrubs or pull the weeds from the beds I spent so much time building and maintaining, well, that’s not for me to worry about anymore. She wanted the house in the divorce, and with that comes the yard work.

  Knocking on the door, I smile instantly when I hear running feet on the hardwood. The door flies open and I’m greeted by my son’s big toothy grin. “Daddy!” he hollers moments before throwing himself in my arms.

  “Hey, Buddy, are you ready to go?” I ask, setting him down and stepping inside the front entry.

  “His bag is on the table,” Ashley states, walking around the corner. She’s dressed to the nines in designer clothes with her dark hair curled just right and her makeup flawless. It’s a little extreme for a Thursday night at home, which tells me either she’s going out or she’s trying to make me jealous. She’s notorious for both and often combines the two. One time when she called me to come help with Max, she answered the door in a little nightgown I bought her when my older sister, Harper, opened her lingerie shop. I’m not sure what result she was looking for, but I’m pretty sure me practically ignoring her wasn’t it.

  The frigid bitch welcome I received the next few weeks was enough to make my balls shrivel up.

  “Thanks,” I reply in way of greeting, reaching for my son’s bag of goodies. I have enough of everything he needs at my place, but he’s four, and like most four-year-olds, he has a handful of his favorite toys that go everywhere with him.

  Including his Sawyer Randall autographed baseball.

  I can feel her eyes on me as I help Max get his shoes on. I know she’s expecting me to say something, give her a compliment. Ashley was never shy on fishing for them, and that sure as shit hasn’t changed even after the divorce. I should just grab Max’s hand and head out the door, but I know that’ll make it worse in the long run. She’ll call all weekend and want to talk to Max or she’ll text me at all hours of the night to discuss arrangements for something that could be made during normal human waking hours.

  Deciding the compliment is the lesser of the two evils right now, I say, “Your hair looks nice.”

  There.

  Simple.

  Basic.

  Nothing in that statement says ‘I love you, let’s get back together.’

  “Thanks!” she coos, twirling her hair around her finger. “I just got it cut and highlighted for my date tonight.”

  Oh, I see where this is going.

  Do not engage.

  Do not engage.

  “Well, we better get going. Have a good evening,” I add, turning and pushing open the screen door.

  “I’m sure I will! Jefferson Riley is picking me up in thirty minutes,” she says, her eyes dancing with delight, but I have a feeling it’s more for show than anything else. She’s trying to get a rise out of me, especially when she throws out the name Jefferson Riley.

  Jefferson owns Riley Landscape, the new landscaper in town. I’ve had a small list of clients jump over to him this past summer, considering the first thing he did was come in and undercut my prices. My loyal customers have remained steadfast, though. What gives me the leg up in the business is my Bachelor of Science in Landscape Architecture, while Jefferson carries an associate’s degree in horticulture. Basically, I can do more shit than he can, primarily in the design field. I also carry an additional three years’ worth of schooling debt to boot.

  Fortunately, Max has already hightailed it to my truck and didn’t hear about her date. Not that I’m trying to keep anything from him, but when it comes to adult shit, like the demise of our marriage and dating, I try to keep his little ears away from it. Unfortunately, his mom doesn’t hold that same sense of respect. Often, she’s used him with petty disagreements, filling his little ears with things she knows he’ll relay to me, just to get a rise out of me.

  Works every time, too.

  “See you Sunday night,” I holler, without
so much as a backward glance. I’m sure she’ll start blowing up my phone in about three minutes, considering I didn’t give her the attention she was shooting for.

  As soon as Max is buckled in his car seat, I hop in my truck and head the few blocks over to my place. He’s chatting a mile a minute about starting preschool next week. I can’t believe he’s starting his second year of preschool and getting ready to turn five in a few weeks. In the past year since the divorce, he’s grown leaps and bounds, becoming quite the little man. Max likes to be outside in the dirt, like me, and has a new love for baseball. He played his first summer of tee-ball, which basically just involved standing at the tee and swinging until he connected.

  “Are we having pizza?” he asks as I pull into the driveway.

  “Maybe,” I answer, drawing out the word.

  “Yay!” he bellows as he unbuckles the belt. Max and I have a standing pizza date on the night I pick him up from his mom’s.

  Ashley and I share joint custody of Max. It was one of the stipulations I had upfront when it came to the divorce. She balked, at first, crying about how she’d miss him when he was away. Well, tough shit, lady. He’s my son too! It took mediation before we were able to come up with a joint agreement. We settled on four days her, three days me, and vice versa the next week. Sure, that means I have him most weekends, but I don’t mind. If I have to work, and usually I do during the heat of summer, my mom or one of my sisters helps me out. Max loves my family and readily goes with any one of them.

  My mom owns Grayson Bed and Breakfast, where I spent part of my childhood. Originally, both of parents purchased the old, rundown home to bring Mom’s dream of turning it into a bed and breakfast to fruition. Unfortunately, Dad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and screwed around. They split up not too long after the B&B took off, leaving Mom to run it solo, while raising four kids. The good part was that we were still at home and were able to help tremendously.

  Marissa, the youngest, was the first to show real interest in the business. She lived and breathed the B&B, even as a young child, so it was no surprise when she returned from college and joined Mom. Marissa does a lot of the cooking, which is her favorite part, and most of the day-to-day dealings. Her boyfriend, Rhenn, moved in with her recently, and together, they share the tiny cottage behind the house. I’m not sure where their relationship is headed, but I’m pretty sure it’s toward happily ever after.