Sweet Second Chances: Texas Redemption, #2

By April Murdock

Matt O'Connor seems to have it all. Young, handsome, rich. Extremely rich, actually. But deep down, he'd give almost anything to regain the life he'd enjoyed before his father's unexpected death. Though he pretends to take his new found responsibility in stride, secretly he's struggling under the heavy weight.

Kimberly Walsh is a petite, red-headed powerhouse in more ways than one. She's a success in real estate at the very young age of 23 and she can take care of herself. But her success is often attributed to her parents who own the big firm she works for. She knows she's good, but she wishes others did, too.

When Matt and Kimberly run into each other after college, their past rushes back. She remembers the mad crush she'd had on her brother's best friend and he was even more handsome now. She never knew that her brother had made sure his player friend understood she was off limits. And now, she'll make her own decisions.

As old feelings rekindle, it's hard to ignore the troubles that edge in. Maybe he can't give up his playboy ways. Maybe she values her independence more than trusting her heart. Will these two be able to push the doubts aside and realize they're stronger together? Or will fate take charge and pull them apart forever?

Everything's bigger in Texas. Even redemption.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sweet River Publishing
• Release date: Dec 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223257714

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Kimberly Walsh uploaded the new photographs from her phone onto her company’s real estate website, anxious to get this new listing on the market. From the outside, it may have looked like nothing more than an apartment complex—something that didn’t automatically appeal to every Texan, to be sure—but first appearances could be deceiving.

This property held a selection of condominiums with individual owners, and this unit not only had new appliances as well as fresh carpet and paint throughout, it had been situated right on the gulf itself. She arranged the images so that the picture of the beach with its swaying palm trees and rippling water would be at the forefront. Then, she typed up a description designed to draw the interest of everyone from investors wanting to make a few touristy bucks to affluent travelers who wanted to use the location as a vacation home.

Both situations were common there in Corpus Christi.

Kimberly had just finished the entry and saved it onto the site when a familiar burbling laugh reached her from the next desk over.

Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Bethany Gonzalez, her bestie and colleague, pumped her fist in the air. "Finally. Thought the Morgans’ house would never go."

Really? Kimberly asked her, her voice a little loud in her excitement. She lowered her volume. You managed to offload it?

Bethany’s dark eyes were as huge as saucers as she offered Kimberly a slow nod. The Morgans’ house had been the bane of her best friend’s existence for nearly two years. The property had been one of the first she’d been given as the listing agent, and the prospect of showing a small, three-bedroom one-bath had been thrilling to her in the beginning. But a series of unlucky coincidences had kept the home from selling.

First, the location hadn’t been the most desirable. Being within a block of the International Airport meant noise pollution would be a definite issue. It was also an older home in desperate need of some updating. Yet, the greatest sticking point about the property had always been the attitude of the owner. When water damage had been discovered in the laundry room—the owner’s responsibility to repair by law—she’d out-and-out refused.

I’m not fixing that or anything else. I told you the house needs to be sold ‘as is,’ Mrs. Morgan had spat at Bethany over the speakerphone. Kimberly had frowned over at her friend, listening to her client’s nasty tone. She’d rubbed the knot of tension that had gathered in the back of her neck.

But Mrs. Morgan, if you don’t do the repairs or hire someone to do them for you, I can’t sell your home because it won’t pass inspection.

You’d better figure it out, missy. I’ve been watching HGTV, and I know how all this stuff works. I’m not going to let anyone push me around. I’m standing firm on this.

The woman had hung up with a discernible clack. Bethany had stabbed both hands into her glossy black hair, making the navy-blue ends fly momentarily upwards, as she peeked over at Kimberly in misery. What am I going to do, Kimmie? The lady’s making this impossible.

Despite having been around the real estate business her entire life—Kimberly’s parents had started Walsh Realty as a fledgling business shortly after she’d been born—initially, she hadn’t known what to tell her friend. Kimberly had been the leader and Bethany the follower ever since kindergarten. Their dynamic had been that her best friend depended on her in both school and then professionally, but this time, Kimberly was at a loss. Despite them both having degrees in business administration as well as their real estate licenses, Kimberly hadn’t been able to come up with an answer for Bethany.

Her bestie had already tried everything she could think of to convince Mrs. Morgan— Bethany had no idea where Mr. Morgan might be and had been too afraid to ask—that the fix would be worth it in the end. It wouldn’t even inconvenience the woman much since she’d vacated the home weeks before. Bethany had placated the lady, warned her, even begged her to reconsider, but the client wouldn’t budge a single iota.

And since then, the water damage had worsened to the point of leaving a foot-long hole gaping in the middle of the floor.

As time passed, Bethany found success with selling other properties, but the situation with the Morgan house still bothered Kimberly endlessly, sometimes keeping her up nights. As the baby in a family of successful overachievers, she’d done her best to make her own mark and stand out.

She’d graduated summa cum laude from both high school and college, and she’d believed she would take the real estate world by storm. In the two years that she’d been an agent and broker, she had become one of the best ranked realtors in southern Texas. But the Morgan house remained an immovable blight on Bethany’s sales quotas, lowering her friend in the rankings.

Long story short, Kimberly had felt as if she’d failed her bestie. Big time. Then, a month ago, while working through lunch, she’d caught sight of a quote online that she’d probably seen a million times before, but this time, it hit her differently.

It’s always better to ask forgiveness instead of permission.

Bethany had been out with her long-time boyfriend, Roberto, but Kimberly hadn’t hesitated to call her anyway.

Don’t ask permission, she’d told her the second her friend picked up.

What?

Kimberly could hear the sounds of silverware clinking on plates and the low roar of background chatter coming from whatever restaurant she and her beau had gone to.

Go around the client. Go around Mrs. Morgan, she clarified.

Mrs. Morgan? Bethany sputtered out, sounding bewildered. What made you think of that… Kimberly knew a lot of choice terms she could’ve described the lady with, but she’d been raised to not say any of them out loud. Her best friend had been taught the same virtues. Look, I gave up on her months ago. If she wants to stay stubborn and miss out on the profits selling her house could provide, then that’s her prerogative. She’ll figure it out—or not—when that house never sells. I’ve already made my peace with it. Robbie says hi, by the way.

But Kimberly waved away the greeting of Bethany’s fiancé without a second thought. She liked Roberto just fine, but she was on a mission here. So, sidestep her since she’s the problem. You have keys to her house, right?

Bethany sighed. You know I do.

Take Robbie over there and seal the leak. Tear the warped floorboards out and replace them. You wouldn’t even have to inform Mrs. Morgan. Then, the next time you show the house, not only will it pass inspection, you won’t have to worry about prospective buyers being scared away from the property.

While Roberto might be an architect by trade, often wearing suits and being a whiz at drawing up blueprints, he also loved to get his hands dirty. There was a pause on the other end of the line as Kimberly heard Bethany murmuring to her man.

That might work, her friend admitted when she came back. But isn’t that sort of a gray area? The seller is the one responsible for the fix, and if I ask her for the money after the fact, she’ll probably throw a giant hissy fit.

I agree. That’s why this’ll need to come out of your own pocket. I’ll go halfsies if you want.

No, I’ll take care of it. This actually is a good idea, Kimmie.

Kimberly smiled, relieved to offer a workable solution. And now, at last, the home had sold. The thorn had been removed from Bethany’s side. It wouldn’t be a large commission, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that even though it’d taken her far too long, Kimberly had eventually come through for her best friend. She didn’t believe in disappointing those she cared about.

Not ever.

Especially since she herself had been so sorely disappointed by a man who she’d thought loved her, even if he never said the words. Turned out he didn’t say them because he didn’t feel it. Figured. Inwardly, she shook her head to rid herself of that less than ideal memory.

I’m happy for you, Bethie.

I’m happy, too. And speaking of happiness, there’s a new architect over at Robbie’s firm. I met him last night at a welcome dinner. Bethany moved a file to her thumb drive and stared down at it as she spoke. Man just happens to be single. And incredibly cute.

Kimberly scoffed. You make him sound like a puppy.

Bethany met her gaze. He’s no puppy, but he does have that whole boy-next-door thing going on.

I’m not in need of a boy next door. Douglas cured me of that. It’d been so frustrating dating Douglas. He’d seemed so sweet, but it’d been an act that he’d been exceptionally good at playing up. She’d fallen for that act hook, line, and sinker. Then, when red flags had gone off, she’d ignored them, not wanting to think about him betraying her trust. Kimberly refused to make that mistake again. It’d been three years now, and she still hadn’t forgiven herself for making such a blatant oversight. Besides, next time I want a relationship, I’m going to be the one to choose it.

What do you mean? You’re just going to keep saying no to every guy who crosses your path? As per usual?

No. When I see what I want, I’m going to be the one to go after it. And this time, she’d follow her instincts. If any guy comes along and sets off my radar, then I’ll take the steps necessary to pursue him. No more waiting for the man to make his move. I’m making my own move.

The philosophy had served her well in the other main arenas of her life. Why not this one? She liked to take charge. It made her feel empowered.

Sweetie. Bethany stood, crossed the narrow space between their adjacent desks, and rested her palm on her arm, her expression a bit more sympathetic than Kimberly liked. Douglas did you wrong. In every way it’s possible to be done wrong, and I’m sorry that happened to you. But it’s been three years since you’ve said yes to any other man, even when they’ve asked you out for nothing more daring than a cup of coffee. Are you sure you’re not just saying all this to keep from dating?

"I just got through telling you that I do want to date."

Bethany peered into her face, appraising her without being subtle about it. All right. If you’re sure.

I am sure. I need for it to be on my own terms, that’s all.

Okay. And I’m not saying that you have to do anything but stay single forever if that’s the way you want it. I just want you to know that I’ll be here for you no matter what. Goodness knows you’ve been there for me. You’re always digging me out of holes, even now. But you can give me the shovel if you ever need a return of that favor. That’s all I’m saying.

Softening, Kimberly smirked over at her best friend. Have I ever told you how much of a pain in the backside you are?

Bethany smirked back at her. This had been their unique ritual with one another since the age of about eight. Every day. And I’m sending the sentiment right back atcha.

Putting her hands together in an almost prayerful pose, Kimberly proceeded to slap them against her best friend’s in the same hand-clapping game they’d participated in since elementary school. Smacking her left palm to Bethany’s, then switching to their right palms, they completed a series of slaps and playful smacks in perfect sync. Then, they wound things up with a pinky swear gesture, locking their bended little fingers together. It was their own version of a secret handshake, and they’d engaged in it to celebrate, commiserate, or show each other support.

Congratulations on selling your toughest house ever, Kimberly said.

Shall we partake in a Sundae Celebration after work tonight? At Coffee Waves?

Coffee Waves was this great coffee house that also sold burgers, fries, and the creamiest gelato outside of