“And I wasn’t boasting, I was merely stating a fact.” Ignoring his skeptical glance, she walked up beside him, her shoulder almost touching his. “So pretty,” she murmured, gazing at the waterfall. “You’d think you were in the tropics. You did a fine job, Clint. I’ve never seen a lovelier pool.”
“Thanks.” It was almost a grunt. Clint couldn’t help it—the irony of her remark had sliced like a knife. This elaborate pool had been one of several negative issues in his marriage. His wife had kept making costly changes to the original plans. With her income and trust fund, she could afford it. But he couldn’t, and he’d wanted to build her the house himself.
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