Page 93 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

A loose cabinet hinge. A dripping faucet. The gate that dragged when it opened. The bathroom fan that made a noise I’d stopped hearing the second week we were here.

Apparently, my porch light had finally made his hit list.

I opened the door and leaned against the frame. “Hey, handyman.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and the smile that spread across his face did ridiculous things to my insides.

He set the screwdriver down, crossed the porch, slid one hand around my waist, and kissed me.

Not a peck.

Not a casual hello.

A warm, lingering kiss that made my toes curl against the floorboards and momentarily erased every thought in my head.

When he pulled back, I smiled up at him. “That’s a much better greeting.”

“I thought so.” His thumb brushed over my hip. “I got you a present.”

My eyebrows rose. “A present?”

“Yep.”

“What is it?”

“A ring.”

My heart stopped.

Actually stopped.

Just flatlined right there on my front porch.

A ring.

A ring ring?

As in…

Oh fuck.

I loved Dean. I did. More than I’d ever planned to. More than was probably healthy considering the man was currently wearing an old T-shirt, jeans, and a tool belt that had no business looking that good on him and was nicknamed heartbreaker.

And someday?

Yes.

Absolutely.

But now?

We’d only just figured us out. There were still conversations to have. Logistics. Maverick. Living arrangements. Toothpaste preferences. Whether Dean was going to continue treating every minor household malfunction like a personal insult to his masculinity.

Marriage was…

Dean reached into his pocket.

My pulse shot into the stratosphere.