CHAPTER FOUR

ALEX

The little cutie that I caught peeking at me through the window answers the door and for the first time in a long time, I feel bad about the news I'm about to deliver.

It's not that I'm a bad guy. I don't like having to tell people that their septic system is fucked. But it's all part of what keeps me getting a steady paycheck and it's a regular downside of home ownership. Over time, things fail, fall apart, or get destroyed and need to be replaced, whether it be windows, a hot water heater, the roof, or, unfortunately, a septic system.

Gazing down into her pale face, with her long, straight brown hair and big, doe-like brown eyes, I feel like I'm about to kick Bambi or something. It's not a good feeling.

Seeing those little toes of hers wiggling as I tell her to put shoes on also does something to me, making my gut twist. Shifting from foot to foot on the porch while I wait, I take in the weeds, choking the flowerbeds and starting to reclaim her stone driveway in spots. The way the shutters are faded, and the blue siding dinged and dented in places. The house needs a good power washing and overall seems to need some TLC.

Then she's back and off we go around the house, our arms brushing every other step as we walk. She's small and cute, her head barely coming up to my chest, yet she matches me stride for stride, staying right beside me as we round the house and go over to the where the septic tank's lid is unearthed.

The smell has long stopped bothering me, but it smacks her in the face. I wince in sympathy when she slaps a palm over her nose and mouth in an attempt to block out the worst of the odor. A nifty little trick that I learned when first starting out is to stick eucalyptus oil under your nose. I haven't needed it for years, so don't have any of it on hand to offer her.

She's a tough little cookie, though. A lot of people, men and women alike, can't handle the smell and turn tail and retreat. Not her. She drops her hand, squares her narrow shoulders and snaps her spine straight as she lifts her chin to face me head on. She doesn't waste time beating around the bush and asks about the problem and the cost.

I like her directness.

And I wish I could sugarcoat it for her.

Gesturing down at the septic tank, I nudge the lid with the toe of my work boot. "The lid's cracked, no idea how long it's been like that, but that caused issues with water getting in."

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her shoulders dropping and absolutely hate that this isn't even the worst of it.

"The tank's not full or clogged." Jerking my head, I begin walking out to the several smaller holes I've dug in her backyard. She scampers after me and stubbles to a stop when I drop to a crouch at the first hole. "This is one of the drain field's pipes. It's clogged." I nod over at the other two holes I dug. "Those are also pipes and they're also clogged."

"Okay… so unclog them?"

I bite back my laugh and stand, wiping my hands on my pants. "Your whole system's shot. There is no unclogging or fixing it. You need a new septic system put in."

"Oh fuck," she whispers as her eyes leap from hole to hole and then back to where the septic tank is located.

"Look, you can get someone else out here and they're gonna tell you the same thing. I can pump it today and that will buy you a little time if you're careful with your water use and we don't get any big storms. But ultimately it needs replaced."

Her pink lips purse as she blows out a long, slow breath and I'm paying way too much attention to her mouth as my cock starts to stir. Quickly, I avert my eyes and rub at the back of my neck where the sun is beating down hotly.

"No, I believe you. How much is that going to cost?"

"Ballpark? Ten thousand."

Those big eyes of hers flood with tears as the tip of her nose flushes pink. Not a sound comes from her, though.

She harshly scrubs at her face with both hands and offers me a wobbly smile. "Sorry." Releasing a watery sigh, she dabs under her eyes, whisking away the last of her tears. "Okay. It needs done. So what do I do? What's the first step to getting this taken care of?"

I give her a brief outline of the process and dig my wallet out, fishing out a card. "Look, I know a guy that does soil analysis."

"The what?" she asks, blinking up at me.

That quickly she forgot the first step. The urge to hug her is so strong that I take a step in her direction before I come to my senses. I'm not a hugger and even if I were, I doubt she'd appreciate some strange, sweaty and dirty guy pawing at her.

"Sorry, I'm…" she trails off and gestures around helplessly.

"Overwhelmed?" I offer.

She nods.

"When you're not expecting it, absolutely it can feel complicated and overwhelming. This is our business and we're good at it. We'll take care of you, ma'am."

A trembling smile overtakes her face and the sheer beauty of it leaves me off-balanced. "Oh, call me Fern. I'm crying in front of you, so we should be on a first name basis."

"Fern." I taste her name and let it roll around on my tongue and in my head. She's small and delicate like a fern, but obviously made of stern stuff and able to withstand storms. It's a fitting name.

I pull out a second card and scribble my number on it and hand both cards to her.

Her brows crinkle low over her eyes as she puzzles over the cards.

I stab a finger at one. "That's for the soil analysis. Call him up and mention my name." I tap the second card and grin. "That's my number, in case you have any other questions."

"Oh."

The little sound falls from her lips, and she blinks those soft and gentle eyes up at me and I'm lost.

I'm out of line. I know it and she might too. There's something about her that stirs things within me that feels both alien and so damn right at the same time. I don't know whether I'm coming or going. All I do know is I want those brown eyes looking at me more and I want to see that beautiful smile again.

Not the sad one. That one I would do everything in my power to prevent her from ever having it grace her sweet face again.

In the truck, after pumping her septic and filling the holes back in, I'm heading to my next job and my mind keeps returning to Fern. I've never given anyone my number like that before. Part of me felt sorry for her, true. More than that, I had the overwhelming urge to take her into my arms and promise her that everything would be alright, and I would fix all her problems.

"Shit!" I mutter and pound my fist on the steering wheel. I don't need to take on anyone else's problems. I like my life the way it is. Easy and problem-free. Living day by day and that's how I like it.

Somehow that all sounds thin and brittle and part of me wonders when it became a lie. When did I stop loving my life? When did I start thinking about maybe having more?

Fern continues to occupy my thoughts all day.

That evening after work, I call my friend Dean to give him a heads up in case Fern does call him to start things rolling with her septic.

"Since when am I moving your friends to the top of the list?"

"Look, man, I felt sorry for her. You're lazy anyway and barely do a few of those a week. I think you can manage to fit her into your schedule."

Dean guffaws. "You sure know how to sweet talk people, you asshole."

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep her in mind if she calls."

"Sure, why the hell not. You owe me a beer. Or better yet, a case and come round to try out the new pool table. I'll even let you come close to beating me."

"Name the day and time and I'll beat on your own table."

"Thursday at eight and I'll let you know if your girlfriend calls."

Snorting, I shake my head. "Deal."

I disconnect and even with Dean's ribbing, I find myself grinning. Feels good to do this and maybe now I can get her off my mind.

Two months later, when the order comes in with the specs for Fern's new septic system, my chest seizes up like it's caught in a vise. She called Dean, she never called me. Which didn't surprise me, though an odd bit of hurt did eat at me for days afterwards. Despite my intentions, thoughts of her never fully left me and now I'm practically humming with anticipation at seeing her again.