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“What?” He sounds as perplexed as I feel.

“I opened the fridge door a second ago, and it just fell off. What do I do?”

“Are you okay?” I can almost picture him on the other end with a crease formed between his brows.

“Uh, yeah. Just shaken up more than anything,” I admit. My skin tingles and my heart races fast. “But I’m fine. The door is just leaning against the fridge since I don’t know what to do.”

“Where are you? Home?”

“No, I’m still at the office. In the kitchen.”

Sebastian mumbles something that sounds like fucking old fridge, before saying in clear words, “Okay, stay put.”

He hangs up, leaving me staring at the mess on the ground.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the door flies open, and footsteps ascend the office. A massive shadow rounds the corner, but it’s a little shorter and a touch thinner than I was expecting.

Calvin.

“Hey.” He looks me up and down before his eyes trail over to the damage beside me.

“Hi.” My voice is calmer than earlier, but my hands are shaking a little.

“I heard you may need a handyman.” A slight smirk crosses his lips.

I slip my hands into my khaki pockets. “It depends. Are you handy?” I retort.

“Oh, you know it.” He drops a red toolbox by his feet—one I did not notice until now. I was too fixated on him.

I raise an eyebrow. Even though I’ve known him for five years, truthfully, I know little about him, but I never pictured this pro football center as the Mr. Fix-it type. I could be wrong, though.

“So, how did this happen?” he asks me.

“What do you know?” I ask in return.

“Sebastian called from Plymouth,” he starts.

Crap. With how stressed I was, it totally escaped my mind that he’s at least forty-five minutes away volunteering at a summer camp this week with the Moore family for their foundation project. In return, they will help us with our gala in a few weeks through our new cemented partnership between the two foundations.

Calvin’s words break me from my thoughts. “He called and asked if I was free because the office refrigerator door fell on you, and he was concerned. Anything else I should know?”

“That’s the gist of it. I didn’t do anything to it.” I lift my hands and place them out in defense.

He matches my hands. “Hey, didn’t say that you did.”

“All right.”

“All right,” he repeats with a nod as we stare at each other for a few moments before he shifts his gaze to the problem at hand.

He grabs a few tools from his box, slipping the screwdriver into his blue jeans. His large hands grip the fridge door as he moves the metal back into position. My feet inch closer to assess the situation. A bead of sweat drips down his face as he attempts to hold up the chunky piece of metal while struggling with his tools.

I move my two free hands to bracket the piece in place while Calvin slips his hand over his screwdriver and gets to work rotating the screw back into place. His brows furrow in concentration as he works on each screw, wordlessly working together.

As I whiff his pine and lemon scent, it’s not lost on me how close our bodies are together. We are mere inches away, his scent and body heat warming me up.

“Let go.” His voice is gravelly.