“Good. I can’t handle anything with a penis before ten a.m.” She walks straight to the fridge to retrieve her pre-breakfast bacon.
“I know the feeling.”
I get up and go to the laundry closet to change the load. When I come back to the kitchen, Dolores is staring out the window. I walk over to see what’s got her attention. Turns out it’s Leo crouched down in front of the mower with my toolkit open beside him.
“Oh, this isn’t good,” I mutter.
“Why not?”
“As if he knows the first thing about lawnmowers,” I say, watching him as he unscrews the gas cap. “And even if he does, I certainly don’t need some man to think I owe him.”
Dolores wrinkles her nose up. “He’s trying to help. ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’ John Heywood.”
“‘Trust no one.’X-Files.” I hurry outside to put a stop to whatever Leo thinks he’s doing before I end up needing a new mower.
I get outside just in time to hear it start up. Huh. He got it working. And now he’s actually using the machine. Properly. Watching him, I find myself torn between letting him finish the job and taking over so I can do it myself. He turns when he reaches the fence, and when he sees me, he smiles and shuts off the machine. “It was just a loose spark plug.”
“Thanks,” I answer. “Where’d you learn to fix lawnmowers?”
“We had a nice gardener when I was growing up,” he says with a shrug. “He used to let me help out.”
Coming from anyone else, I would assume this was a joke, but not from Leo. He gestures toward the house with his head. “Go enjoy your quality time.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he says, “Relax, you don’t owe me for this. I’m practicing my landscaping skills. I need something to fall back on in case my supervisor tries to get me fired again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy today.”
***
I hurry down the shaded sidewalk toward Valencia's, which is the place for all things wedding attire on the island. It’s on the swankiest street in San Felipe, which runs along the beach and is lined with cafes, clothing stores, and jewelry shops that cater to the tourists. I’m running ten minutes late, and my hair is wet, but at least I’m clean and I’m here. I managed to get through almost everything on my list, and what’s left—three chapters to study—can be done on my breaks at work.
There’s an extra spring in my step, and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s because of Mr. Tall, Built, and Helpful. I don’t know how much time, not to mention money, he saved me by fixing the mower, and he did a surprisingly nice job of the grass. I am seriously grateful.
Okay, full disclosure: His use of the word stunning may have something to do with my mood. It keeps popping into my mind as I weave through the meandering crowd of middle-aged people who look like they’re fresh off a cruise ship.
You’re stunning. Deal with it. Oh, that sets off a flock of butterflies in my stomach. Hmm…do butterflies fly in flocks, or is that just birds?
Anyway, whatever. He’s just buttering me up. And even if he’s not, I definitely need to forget about that whole moment in the kitchen this morning because… Well, because I’m his boss, number one, and number two, I’m his landlady, and number three, he’s a rich guy, and I hate rich guys. He’s a generous, fun, sexy, rich guy who knew exactly what I needed to make my day so much better. But he’s also a heartbreaking bastard, I’m quite sure of it.
Skidding to a stop in front of the dress shop, I spot my sister and her friends inside. Valerie is modeling an emerald-green dress with a midi skirt and a tasteful V-neck. Not my favourite colour, but I wouldn’t hate wearing that. I yank open the door, take a deep breath and hope we can all agree on that dress and get out of here.
“She made it,” Quinn says, tossing a thumb over her shoulder.
There’s a visible deflation in the group’s excitement level that doesn’t go unnoticed by me. I cement a smile on my face and remind myself this is all for Amber, who I love very dearly. “Sorry I’m late. That’s a lovely dress.”
Kandi shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s a little plain.”
“Plain? I think it’s perfect,” I say. “Very flattering.” No to mention nicely modest and would suit a variety of body types—including curvy.
Quinn shakes her head. “No cleavage. No sex appeal. It’s a no.”
Valerie nods. “Agreed. It’s a big old no for me, too.”
Brilliant.
***
“So? How was dress shopping with the stick women?” Leo asks as he gets in the car. We’ve agreed to carpool to save money on gas and save him an hour on the bus to and from the resort.
I pull out of the driveway and start slowly up our street to the main road. “It was as fun as I expected.”
