I turn my face. “Fine. Do it then.”
She makes a smallahemand gives me a peck with her ridiculously soft lips. And it’s just so fucking…cute. Something swells inside my chest.
“Happy?” she asks shyly.
“Overjoyed. You really sold it. I could feel you want to tear my clothes off.”
She reddens. “That’s not— What— Um—”
I press my palm over her mouth, cutting off her flustered stammer. “I’m joking, Sunshine. C’mon. I’ve got a call in ten minutes I’d like to be on time for.”
We get out of the car. The day started off foggy, but some sun is starting to peek out from behind the clouds.
As we approach the front door, I intertwine our fingers. “Ready?”
Blake stares up at me, and she looks so determined. It’s like she’s about to walk into a bar fight instead of a sleepy five-person office. “Let’s do this.”
I snicker. “C’mon, Rambo.”
The Handy Heroes office smells like strong coffee and fresh bagels. When Sandro and I bought the business, we also took over the lease. The space itself is nothing special—just a rectangular open area with four desks and my office in the back—but I’ve gotten used to it. As have the employees who have been here for over a decade under the previous owner. In fact, all three of them told us they would only stay if we kept the office in the same location.
People hate change. I get it.
“Morning, everyone. This is my girlfriend, Blake. She’s going to be helping me out here for a few days.”
Our estimator, Judy, peers at us over her half-moon glasses. “Blake, did you say?”
“It’s Blake Wolfe,” Arnie barks from where he’s standing by the printer. “You know, Valerie’s kid.”
Judy adjusts her glasses. “Oh, is that right? Come here, dear. My eyesight’s not what it used to be. Let me look at you.”
I let go of Blake’s hand and nudge her forward. She throws me a nervous look before walking over to Judy.
The two of them chat while I go to pour myself a coffee at the small kitchenette. Arnie appears beside me, his curly gray hair sticking out in every possible direction. I’m convinced the man has never met a comb. “She’s a nice girl. Hardworking. Honest. Not your type.”
I grab a mug off the shelf. “She’s definitely my type.”
He tsks and lifts the jug of coffee, pouring it for me. “You know what happened with her and the mayor’s son, right? My heart just broke for her.”
“Don’t be a gossip, Arnie.”
“I’m just saying, she’s been through enough as is this year. First her mom passed, then the breakup, and now that fire at her house. She seems tough—well, she’s had to be, hasn’t she?—but we all have our limits. I’m not sure how well she’d handle another heartbreak.”
Something uneasy settles inside my gut. Blake has been through a lot.
And that fire was all me.
But I’m fixing it, aren’t I? I’m going to make that house look brand-new. She’s going to get a better offer on it after I’m done, and one day, she’ll think that fire was actually a bit of good luck.
Do you even hear yourself?
I bury the unease away and move to change the topic. “Where’s Pete?”
“At home. Stomach problems.”
“Again? What do we need to do to stop that man from eating dairy?”
“I already switched to lactose-free everything over here. Next, we’ll have to sneak into his house and swap the milk out of his fridge while he sleeps.”
