Morgan: Standish Bay, #4

By Christine Donovan

Morgan Bradford decides it's high time he went home to Standish Bay and put down some permanent roots. He's been living in Toronto for the past five years, working on his successful television show about rehabbing older homes back to their former glory. He's tired of being away from home, wants some real purpose in life, and wants to reconnect with the only woman he ever loved.

 

Molly Kennedy is divorced from a husband who stars in her nightmares and other women's as well. Thankfully he's behind bars where he belongs. She's trudging along raising her three young children and running her in-home baking and cake decorating business. She loves her children more than anything, but something is missing from her life. When Morgan, the man she loved in high school and never stopped loving, moves back to town, her life has a new purpose.

 

But Morgan has an enemy sabotaging his current rehab project. His life and the lives of his crew are in danger when bizarre construction mishaps occur. Then the person causing the destruction sets his sights on Molly, and Morgan will do anything, even put his life on the line, to keep her and her children safe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christine Donovan
• Release date: May 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224632923

Book preview

Chapter One

Spill it, a deep voice demanded.

Are you out of your mind? This is premium paint, my friend. Top dollar and a custom color to boot, Morgan Bradford replied to his longtime friend, Mitch Gallagher, who had the audacity to invade his private space. Although he’d been wondering when he’d seek him out since he moved back to town. Morgan hadn’t been hiding. He just hadn’t made himself readily available. Who could blame him after the clusterfuck of his life lately?

Very funny. Mitch crossed his arms on his chest, rocked back on his heels, and narrowed his eyes in a look and stance Morgan knew all too well. After all, they’d been friends forever.

Dipping the roller in the thick liquid, Morgan painted the master bedroom in his family home. The paint was a blue so serene he could hardly wait to sleep within its walls. The color soothed his nerves. These days that was something he needed. He would definitely be using this color in the sea captain’s house he’d bought and planned on restoring and making his own.

What makes you think I have something to tell?

Dude, Mitch said as he picked up a brush and a plastic container half-full of paint and began cutting in the edges around the windows. You forget we’ve been friends since kindergarten, and from what I remember about you in recent years, you paint when things are weighing heavily on your mind.

Morgan chuckled. The first week of kindergarten you got sent to the principal’s office for punching me. We didn’t exactly start out as bosom buddies.

You would bring that up. Mitched laughed. My parents were horrified their perfect son was condemned to the principal’s office at five years old.

Perfect son? That’s a good one. Morgan added more paint to his roller and continued his task. He’d be damned if he’d go off about all the shit happening in his life right now. Shit he couldn’t control, which was why he was painting. Sometimes a man needed to be in control and void the mind of all the problems invading it.

You’re not going to clue me in on what’s bothering you, are you? Mitch drawled.

Fuck no.

How’s Molly doing since all the shit went down with her ex-husband? Does she still blame herself for his actions? Like she could have stopped the bastard from shooting you in the shoulder. Mitch paused and sighed. How is it, by the way?

He just had to bring up his bullet wound. Since it was my left shoulder and I’m a righty, I’m good. No holding me back with work or anything.

I get it, man, if you don’t want to talk. Just remember I’m here for you, and so is the rest of my family. My parents can’t believe the famous Morgan Bradford has come home to Standish Bay.

It was time. Morgan pointed his roller toward the bedroom door, swearing when he dripped paint on the drop cloth. Now get your sorry ass back to your fiancée before she has the cops out looking for you.

See ya.

Once Morgan heard Mitch’s Jeep peel out of the gravel driveway, he placed the roller in the tray, walked across the room, and sat with his back against an unpainted wall, stretching his legs out. Well, hell, that sucked, he muttered out loud. He should’ve confided in his friend. Although what would that accomplish—absofuckinglutely nothing. A great big zero. The only person who could solve any of his problems was himself and the other persons involved.

Miss Molly Sunshine was one issue to contend with. Another was his contract with the network that aired his television show, Restore and Rejuvenate Historic Homes. R&R Homes for short. He’d been MIA for six weeks and counting. Sure, they knew about his shoulder wound, but how long before they sued him for breach of contract? Even if said contract was up in another month. One he had no intention of renewing no matter how many zeros were in his salary, unless they agreed to his terms. He loved Canada, but the United States was home. He wanted to bring his show to New England. There was no shortage of historic homes to restore in New England, never mind Massachusetts, where he wanted to be. More precisely, Standish Bay.

It was time he put down roots and thought about getting married and starting a family. Which was a huge problem right now since the one woman he’d loved most of his life was a mess and dealing with her own heavy shit. Not to mention she had three young, adorable children who were suffering as well.

Nope, didn’t look as though he’d be getting married anytime soon. Instead, he’d put all his energy into the sea captain’s house, which sat high upon a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in all its splendid glory. While restorations were going on, he’d live here in his family’s old house across town. Neither he nor his sister, Courtney, could bear to sell the place after their parents had died. Several years ago, he’d lovingly restored the home and thought they might sell, but they still couldn’t, which suited him just fine.

Time to stop wallowing in self-pity, he mumbled to himself. Morgan sighed and rose up from the floor as his knees popped out a tune. He painted until the sunset cast shadows on the walls, making it difficult to continue.

After pouring the extra paint back into the can and sealing the cover with a rubber hammer, he wrapped the roller and brush in a plastic bag to keep them damp until the following day.

Typically he cleaned his brush and roller after each use, but he was being lazy and did the next best thing.

He needed to take a drive and clear his head. He pulled his Chevy Silverado onto a quiet side street, heading toward the center of town. The hell with it, he mumbled as he banged a U-turn and drove to Molly Kennedy’s Cape Cod home. When he spotted her ancient minivan parked in the driveway, muscles he hadn’t realized were tense loosened.

How in the hell could he make things right for her? For them? For her kids? He loved her. She loved him. At least, he believed she did. But the million-dollar question was how to get past the trauma of her life and prove to her not all men were crazy narcissists like her ex.

Oh, she knew all men weren’t like the bastard she’d married, but sometimes people were so damaged deep down inside they had trouble getting past their past.

The past? Yup, hers was not good, from her controlling parents to her controlling and abusive husband. And that was only what he surmised as an outsider. God only knew what happened inside the home she had shared with Kennedy.

At least she lived in her parent’s old home now with her one son and two daughters. Not the home she’d shared with Kennedy. He imagined there were too many bad memories in that run-down house. Stop procrastinating and get your sorry ass out of the truck. Strange, he didn’t use to talk to himself. Being back in his hometown was having strange effects on him. Before he exited, he noticed a missed call from his agent. Nothing like the present to hear good or bad news. There he goes again talking to himself. Tension coiled tighter and tighter inside his gut as the message played. Great, just great. After taking several deep breaths, he stepped from his truck, and Brady, Molly’s six-year-old son, called out through the screened door, Hi, Morgan.

Brady, man, how’s it going?

Good. Mom made pizza for supper and when she took it out of the oven, she dropped it face down on the floor. He laughed and snorted. It was awesome.

Doesn’t sound all that awesome to me.

Brady closed his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. Well, it was when it happened. But now we’re having cereal and milk for supper cause Mom can’t afford takeout.

Morgan’s heart clenched as he ruffled Brady’s blond hair. Perhaps you should keep that takeout and money thing a secret.

His eyes widened. Sure. Mom probably wouldn’t want people to know money’s snug.

Snug?

Yeah, you know, tight?

This conversation had him wondering just how tight Molly’s money was.

Hey. The voice he used to hear in his dreams as a teenager entered his ears as Molly approached the door looking mildly disheveled. What brings you by?

Molly opened the screen door to let him in. The small entry hall brought back memories of their high school days. The house looks the exact same.

Molly rolled her eyes. I know. They never updated or bought new furniture. Someday…

The air thickened with her obvious embarrassment.

My parents never did either until I did after they died.

Molly’s heart raced inside her chest. Could she be any more mortified? The whole town knew of her marital issues, her ex-husband’s slide down the wrong side of the law. And not just any law. Four counts of attempted murder. He tried to murder Faith Harrington, their son’s kindergarten teacher, and Mitch Gallagher, Morgan’s best friend. Not to mention Morgan and herself as well. It was a wonder she ever crawled out of bed. She wouldn’t if she didn’t have three darling children who needed her.

And what did it say about her when her heart raced from excitement at finding Morgan on her doorstep? Clearly her priorities were screwed up, just like her life.

I believe you heard about our pizza disaster, so if you’d like to join us for dinner, I can offer you cereal and milk—one of your favorites, if I recall.

Thanks, but no. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you didn’t need anything.

Her heart sank at least six inches. Nope. Don’t need a thing. What a lie. She could use his comforting arms around her for the rest of her life.

Morgan’s perceptive eyes scanned her face. Then he cleared his throat. I wanted to tell you I received a call from my agent. I need to fly to Canada first thing tomorrow morning for contract negotiations. I didn’t want to leave before I saw you. He paused. So if you don’t need anything from me, I’ll be off then.

Her breath suspended inside her lungs as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then fist-bumped with Brady. See ya.

Bye, she said as the light seemed to extinguish within her at Morgan’s exit. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d be gone this time.

After she poured three bowls of cereal and milk, she sat down and watched her three beautiful kids eat like it was the best dinner she’d ever made. How had she gotten so lucky to have such happy and loving children? She cleaned up and hustled her kids up the one-hundred-year-old steep, narrow stairs and into the upstairs bathroom to brush their teeth.

Pajama time, she said when all mouths were rinsed.

Do we have to? Brady complained.

We go through this every night. And the answer is yes. It’s eight o’clock.

After tucking Brady in his small bedroom, she tucked the eight-year-old twins, Summer and Lily, into theirs. It was a tight squeeze with the slope of the roof to fit the two twin beds, but it worked.

Perhaps you should come right out and tell him how you feel.

Molly heard what her therapist said. Could she just blurt out, I love you, always have, to Morgan?

Surely he knew that already. But there was a difference between the quick love you they shared and I love you. Seriously, if she were Morgan, she would run for the hills and beyond before getting involved with her damaged self.

You have a faraway look in your eyes. Did you hear anything I said?

Molly blinked to clear her mind. Perhaps when his work contract is settled, I’ll tell him. He has enough on his plate.

The contract dispute had taken Morgan away from Standish Bay for a month, starting the day after he stopped by her house. It had been a very long month. Molly was afraid he’d never come back, regardless of his daily phone calls reassuring her all was well and he’d be back soon.

Chapter Two

Having returned to Standish Bay, Morgan drove to have his hair cut. He pondered about the network agreeing to let him relocate his show to Massachusetts and lightening his airtime from twenty-five shows a year to twenty. Something he insisted on during the negotiations because it would free up time for him to give back or pay it forward.

As soon as his show was up and running smoothly, he would begin to research where his expertise was needed and where he could make the most significant impact. His long-term dream was to create his very own nonprofit. Working with the local housing authority and VA to house single moms or dads and veterans would be his number one priority. Scouring the area for houses to rehab was next on his list. So much shit was clouding his brain. The stuff he wanted done—yesterday. He had to remind himself things took time. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too much time to begin making an impact.

Most of his crew from Toronto renewed