Paradise on the Dunes

Chapter 6

Matt placed the tool belt on the worktable, and it landed with a heavy thud, making the paint cans tremble. Dust particles swirled in the sunlight streaming through his workshop's lone window. Shelves were lined with jars of nails and bolts, tools hanging neatly in their designated spots, and half-finished projects were scattered across the workbench. Hunter circled around his best friend's legs as if sensing the tension. Matt bent down and scratched behind Hunter's ears, feeling the warmth of his furry companion calming the storm within him. He thought he had overcome his hero syndrome. Regret washed over him like a wave. He couldn't blame only Joanne. Matt wished he could turn back time and listened to his friends. The damage was done, and he was paying for it.

The hero in him had awakened the minute he entered Paradise Point and looked at mother and daughter. Matt had heard of the passing of the owner of the house on the dune. In fact, Marco Rinaldi had phoned Matt to explain why he would delay the renovation. Months later, rumors circulated in Grace Harbor about the potential sale of Paradise. It was just gossip, and Matt took on the task of renovating it. How on earth would he ever have time for that? He was juggling multiple projects already. But in a couple more months, he would be debt free.

Matt's foot tapped to a soft rhythm. He gazed at the tarp that covered his most cherished possessions. Joanne had not only drained his bank accounts, but she also crushed his dreams. All thanks to the hero syndrome. When would he learn he was not the savior of the world? Or more precisely, savior of women in distress? That would be an appealing characteristic for male protagonists in romance novels sold at supermarkets. In real life, the hero syndrome was not only condescending, but also dangerous. So, why was he willing to bend over backward to accommodate another project for mother and daughter? During the argument between Shelly and Jenna over the renovation, Matt's brain had been in overdrive, trying to figure out how to schedule time for their project.

And then he had said yes.

He glanced at his phone to check the time, but ignored the unread messages. Andrei would arrive in a few minutes for their weekly ritual. Matt relied on that one hour reprieve each week to cope with stress. Joanne had also robbed him of this precious time. With her absence stretching over two years, Matt's life was finally settling back into its familiar routine. A somber conclusion for someone who believed in the vow of 'till death do us part'. He couldn't blame Joanne for the end of their marriage. Everyone had seen the message written on the wall when Matt proposed to her a few months after they had met. His syndrome blinded him. Joanna needed him. Or so he had thought.

Matt grunted as he made his way to the opposite corner of the garage-turned workshop. The fishing gear hang on the wall in its own dedicated section of the exposed wood. He pulled his favorite rod and inspected it. Hunter let out a bark and dashed out of the workshop. Seconds later, like thunder after lightening, a roar reached Matt's ears. He trailed his dog, and lifted his hand, greeting the rider on a Cruiser motorcycle. The man cut the engine and took off his helmet. He ran his finger through his thick, dark hair before placing the helmet on the seat. Hunter welcomed him with two loud barks and a wildly wagging tail.

"You're turning Hunter into that Pavlov's dog," Matt tapped his friend's shoulder.

Andrei Elias grabbed a stick from the gravel driveway and tossed it onto the grass in front of the house. Hunter darted to retrieve it. "I'm not offering him treats anymore."

"Not the treats. He hears the bikes engine now and knows it's fishing time." Matt smiles. "How are Daphne and the girls?"

Andrei followed his friend to the workshop. Hunter returned the stick to him and barked twice. "My girls are fine, but it seems your dog has conditioned me instead: two barks, let's play." He threw the stick in the air.