A Place to Call Home Read Online Free Page A

finds the time to sleep. Seems he’s always working.”
     
    “But you’ll never hear that boy complain.”
     
    “Got that right,” someone seconded.
     
    “If you don’t mind me asking, pretty lady,” asked a guy seated down the counter.
     
    “The name is Hannah O’Leary.”
     
    “Okay, Ms. O’Leary. What’s your business with Mac? You ain’t from around these parts.”
     
    Everyone in the café instantly fell silent, all eyes fixed on Hannah.
     
    “Well, sir, I’m the new owner of the former Brigman house on Jackson Street. I’m opening a restaurant catering to breakfast and special functions, and well, Mac had stopped by to make a bid on the necessary repairs.”
     
    “The ol’ Brigman house, huh? Everyone in town knows only Mac is capable of fixing up that heap of wood. He’ll do a mighty fine job for you, Ms. O’Leary. Just you wait and see.”
     
    Hannah swallowed hard. Working with the sexy contractor appeared to be inevitable. She politely excused herself, and with flaming cheeks and a nervous belly, she stepped out into the blazing heat of the South Carolina midday.
     
     
     

Chapter Three
     
    Mac managed excellent progress on the rest of his jobs. By five o’clock, he all but burst with thankfulness to be headed to his final job. His head throbbed, and he still had to figure out what to make for dinner for himself and his three ravenous boys. Since he’d forgotten to take the ground beef out of the freezer that morning, meatloaf was out of the question.
     
    Driving down a long curvy road on the outskirts of Charleston, Mac squinted when he spotted a car off to the side of the road up ahead. Of course, if the driver needed assistance he would stop and help, but that didn’t keep him from sighing. He only had one more job to finish and stood dead tired on his feet. The last thing he wanted was to play Good Samaritan.
     
    Eyeing the opened hood on the BMW luxury automobile, Mac cursed. There weren’t too many of those expensive cars around here, and he knew exactly who this one belonged to. The driver’s door stood ajar and something lay on the ground. Mac swung across the road to park in front of Hannah’s car but saw no sign of her. Where the hell was she? She wouldn’t have attempted to walk in this heat and in those flimsy sandals she wore, would she?
     
    Mac focused on the lump next to the car. Drawing closer, he realized what it was.
     
    “Hannah!” Mac slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. Jumping from his truck, he ran to where she lay in the fetal position. “Hannah! Can you hear me? Hannah!”
     
    His hands roamed her face. Her cheeks were flushed and warm, and her eyes fluttered but didn’t open. With the back of his hand, he gently slapped her cheeks.
     
    “Hannah, it’s me, Mac. Wake up, honey. Come on.”
     
    Her eyes flew open and then narrowed. “Stop. Hitting. Me.”
     
    Mac had never been so glad to see a woman’s temper. If she fought him, that meant Hannah would be okay.
     
    “Stop falling unconscious on the ground, then.” He smiled. Not only because relief filled him but also because she looked more beautiful than he remembered. “Told you to eat a better lunch.”
     
    “Shut up,” she said, her voice hoarse and dry.
     
     Other than a few scratches and a slight bruise, which probably occurred when she hit the ground after blacking out, she didn’t appear to have suffered any serious injuries. Just a bit dusty but no blood. He carefully lifted her and carried her to his truck.
     
    Hannah stirred in his arms but, unlike earlier when he’d carried her down the stairs, she had no temper now, looked weak and tired. The slender woman barely weighed enough to strain his muscles but his arms tightened around her anyway as his long strides quickly ate up the ground. He wanted to make her feel better, feel herself again.
     
    “What are you doing?” Her once husky voice sounded weak and scratchy, signaling her distress.
     
    Glancing