2. Talia

CHAPTER 2

"What am I going to do?" I wail, through body wracking sobs.

I've officially hit rock bottom.

I'm ugly crying in the kitchen of my newly acquired bed and breakfast that's flooded with water, painfully unfit for guests.

"The windows need replacing, the roof needs fixing, the electrical is wacky…" I point to a switch near the pantry. "That switch turns on the light in the living room closet! Why?" I hiccup. "I've done all I can cosmetically, but I'm in way over my head. I thought I could fix the faucet myself, but I just made it worse! What was I thinking?"

I put my face in my hands and suddenly feel the big sexy stranger that barged into this fiasco put a hand on my shoulder. I almost forgot he was here, he's been so quiet. Poor guy. What a shit show to walk in on.

I should back away. Say I'm fine and get myself together. Because this is not me. I don't cry. I'm the eternal optimist. Miss Sunshine and Rainbows!

Except I'm broke. I've sunk everything into this place. I wanted it to work so badly. I wanted to prove to my grandmother, God rest her soul, that I could make something happen for once. Show her that I'm not a failure.

But there's only so much I can take.

So instead of collecting myself and wiping away my tears, I grab onto the stranger's flannel shirt and bury my face into his strong chest. My face is as wet and sloppy as the rest of me, but I'm beyond caring at this point. This man smells like lemons and the forest and it's good for my nerves.

I cry into his shirt and let it all out. I tell him everything. All the things that are wrong with the property and that I should just give up.

The stranger pats my back awkwardly, and I know I've made this weird. But it's fucking amazing feeling something this solid, warm, and real against me. It's been a long time. And his chest is firm and muscled. I wish it was bare so I could feel every swell and ripple.

Talia!

"It's okay," he rasps. My god his voice is deep. I feel down to my?—

Talia, you're being ridiculous. Just cut it out.

"Don't cry. Please," he says, and it's obvious he's uncomfortable.

I finally push out of his arms and wipe my face. "Okay, okay. I'm good. Sorry."

He stands there and shoves his hands in his pockets. His eyes are pale green, but he can barely look at me. He tugs his cap down nervously. He must be shy.

And damn, he really is big. Tall, sexy…

"Let's start over," I say, straightening my drenched clothes and hair as best I can. I put my hand out. "I'm Talia Yang."

He shakes my hand. "Sully O'Neill. I live on the property next to yours." I'm trying to ignore the electricity shooting up my arm as his big hand envelopes mine.

Wait. I pull out of his grasp.

"You're the jerk who's been leaving the nasty notes on my door about the noise?" My heart sinks a bit. Just my luck. My hot savior is a bonafide douche.

He glances down. "It's loud and disruptive. Makes it hard to enjoy the peace and quiet the lake is known for."

I put my hands on my hips. "Sorry, but how am I supposed to do construction quietly?"

His eyes flick away again. I can tell he doesn't like confrontation. "You could keep it to specific hours. Especially nothing after dark."

I shake my head, aware of my wet clothes pulling at me. "I need to work anytime I can. Every day this place isn't done, I'm losing more and more money."

"You've been doing everything yourself?" He's looking around and I know he's thinking I'm out of my mind. He's right. But still.

"Mostly," I hold my head up.

"Do you have any experience with renovation?"

This time I avert my eyes. "No, but I've been watching YouTube videos and tutorials."

He whistles. "Brave." He takes his cap off to scratch his head, and I notice how thick his dark hair is. "But unrealistic. You need professionals for big projects like these."

My eyes narrow. And here I almost forgot I'm not supposed to like him.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," I say, sarcasm dripping off my tongue. "But as I'm sure you heard as I was blubbering before…I'm broke."

He sniffs the air, ignoring my comment. "What smells so good in here? You order Chinese?"

I've got whiplash from the change in subject. "Oh, um, I made a bunch of dumplings. I cook when I'm stressed."

His brow raises.

"I made a lot of them." I give him a sheepish smile.

He licks his lips, and damn him for having such a sexy mouth.

"You a good cook?" he asks.

"My dad was a chef. He taught me everything he knew." I pause. "I may not cook for Michelin star restaurants like he did, but I've never had anyone complain."

He cocks his head to the side and rubs his jaw. "Maybe I can help you with the plumbing."

"What are you some kind of contractor or something?" He did look the part—all rugged and in flannel.

"I'm a plumber." He digs in his back jean pockets, searching, until he pulls out a card and hands it to me.

O'Neill Plumbing. Where had I seen that before? Probably one of my many internet searches in the area.

"I own the company, but haven't actually done jobs in a while." He glances out in the direction of the lake. "I've been trying to enjoy the fruits of my labor."

"I get it, I get it. I'm noisy!" I roll my eyes, then hand the card back to him. "Thanks, but I can't afford you anyway."

He doesn't move to take the card from me. "How about we make a deal, then?"

"What kind of deal?" I'm skeptical, but he's got me intrigued.

"You cook your best Chinese dishes for dinner for me this week, and I'll get your plumbing in order."

Dinners? That's it? A plumbing job like this might cost thousands!

But I don't even have money for the groceries.

I start to decline when he adds, "I'll give you money for the ingredients you need, too," as if reading my mind.

Getting the plumbing done would allow me to get some guests in and bring in some money to pay for the remainder of the projects this place needs done.

This is sounding too good to be true. "What's the catch?" I narrow my eyes again. "You're not expecting sexual favors or anything, are you? Because I'm not?—"

"No, no!" he waves his hands in front of him. "Nothing like that. I'm just sick of frozen pizza."

His face has gone beet red, and I try to hide my smile, as his pale eyes dart away.

He really is cute. And I'd be a fool to pass this up.

"Deal," I say, with newfound hope.