Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

ALEX

It never occurred to me as I was actively gawking at her and hitting on her that she might have a boyfriend. I didn’t ask her and it hasn’t come up in conversation, but it was pretty clear I made her uncomfortable at my place. She got out of there pretty fast, and I felt like a shit for the rest of the night. I felt like a shit at her store this morning, too. But at least then I knew how she felt and made sure I kept my distance.

Now, she’s coming over to fix the first round of things on the list, and I’m sure I will feel like a shit then too. My plan is to give her space, though. I’m just going to try to stay out of whatever room she’s in, really let her know I understand.

It’s part of the reason my routine evening run was extended to almost double the distance today. She said she would be over around six thirty, so I should make it back to the house right in time for her arrival. The reason for the hard run today is because I clearly needed to work off some excess tension. And maybe if I exhaust myself, I’ll be too tired to make a fool of myself by hitting on her again. Also, it’s just plain punishment for being such a shit.

I mean, the girl is grieving, for fuck’s sake. She’s sad, not horny. She doesn’t want to be hit on right now. Plus, she might have a boyfriend—that’s still not confirmed. Either way, she’s not for you, I tell myself.

But shit, that doesn’t stop me from thinking about how I wish she was for me. I’m not too ashamed to admit that I went to bed last night thinking of her. I ran my hand down my boxer briefs and stroked myself while imagining what that perfect ass of hers would look like bare and possibly a little pink from being slapped. I came while thinking about flicking my tongue against her nipple and had to get up and change before finally falling asleep.

I round the corner at the edge of my yard in time to spot Dylan walking up the front steps. I call out to her, waving my hand in the air. I watch her turn and spot me from a distance, her face growing visibly uncomfortable, and I feel like a shit all over again.

I run up the stairs, stopping by her side. “Sorry about that. My run stretched a little longer than I meant for it to.”

“That’s okay,” she says with a swallow. “Do you, uh, run every day?”

“Most days,” I say, using the T-shirt I had tucked into my back pocket to wipe the sweat from my face. “Come on in. I’ll let you get started and go grab a shower real quick.”

“A shower?” she asks.

“Yeah, is that a problem? Were you going to do something in the bathroom first?”

“No, no, I was going to start with the faucet in your kitchen.”

“Okay, great. Well, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I run upstairs, leaving her as she heads back to the kitchen. It’s not good for me that she looks exceptionally cute today. Her dark hair is in a high ponytail, bouncing as she moves. She’s wearing boots, cutoff jean shorts, and a simple blue tank, all of which equals a lot of skin showing.

You’d be right if you thought I imagined her naked and straddling me while wearing just the boots while I was showering. Hell, I didn’t even really try to stop myself. Perhaps she’s in my kitchen right now and down on all fours under my sink.

Oh, god, do not think about that. You cannot get another boner before you have to leave the bathroom.

I put my towels and the shorts from my run into the hamper and make my way downstairs toward the kitchen. When I enter, I’m immediately greeted by the sight of her bent over the sink, ass a little propped up as she screws something into place.

“Hey,” I say. “How’s it going in here?”

Dylan turns at the sound of my voice, clearing her throat. “Oh, perfect timing. All done with this.” She steps back, showing me what she’s done. Wow. She didn’t just fix a leaky faucet, but she actually replaced the sink, knobs, and spout with a brand-new set. It’s something I mentioned wanting to do later on, just wanting to get the leak to stop for now.

“I figure if this is what you were going to do anyway, you might as well do it now,” she says. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” I say. “Make sure you give me all the receipts for materials. I don’t expect you to cover costs. The trade is for the labor.”

She nods, not fighting me on it, and I’m grateful for that.

“This looks great, Dylan. You really did a wonderful job.”

“You like the finish? I sort of think the polished nickel look is a little more elevated, so I went with that,” she says.

“It’s perfect,” I say, admiring it. And her. After a few silent moments, I snap out of it. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. I’ll just be sitting on the porch if you need me.” I back out of the room, remembering that I need to give her space. I grab the book I’m reading from the nearby counter and head toward the door.

If I read her expression right, she seemed a little surprised, but that’s certainly better than being uncomfortable. In fact, I’ll take almost any reaction before that one.

Sitting on my porch swing, my feet tap back and forth, allowing me to swing just slightly. I’ve read the same page three times over again because I keep forgetting what I’m reading. I’m hyperaware that Dylan is inside my house. Her presence is heavy on my senses. I’ve checked my watch three times, and it’s been a grand total of about thirty minutes since I came out here.

I don’t know how long she planned to work or how late she planned to be here, so I’m getting a little antsy, wondering if I should check on her. Of course I shouldn’t check on her; it’s only been thirty fucking minutes.

Oh, maybe I should offer her something to drink? I don’t remember seeing a water bottle with her or anything. Yes, that could work. That’s just being polite, right? Not creepy, polite.

Shutting my book, I step back inside, noting her presence in the living room as I make my way back to the kitchen. I’m not going to ask her beforehand this time, but rather just hand it to her. Maybe she will be less inclined to reject it if I’ve already put the work into it.

“Here you go,” I say, holding out a glass of lemonade to her.

“Oh,” she says. “Thank you.” She takes the glass from me, immediately pulling it to her lips for a long sip. “I think I’ve done all I can for today.”

“Not a problem,” I say. “Come get some air on the porch.”

We walk out, her not refusing the invitation this time. Sitting down, I pat the swing next to me. “Come on, best seat in the house.” I’m not joking about that. The westward-facing house means I get to experience the full magnificence of the sun setting every evening.

“I like watching the sun set,” I say. “Watching the sky go from bright orange to pink to deep purple is very relaxing.”

“The sunsets here are pretty great,” she says, her eyes fixed on the horizon stretching out in front of us.

I fight the urge to reach out and wrap one of the loose strands of her hair around my finger. I’ve never met a more capable woman in my life. All the women I knew back in the city hired people to come do this kind of work. None of them knew how to do it themselves.

Suddenly, a light bulb dings in my mind.

“Oh my god, I think I have it,” I say.

“Have what?” she asks.

“Okay, hear me out. After I looked over the store’s data, I did some research on demographics here. I don’t know if you know this, but statistics right now are showing a trend of younger people around our age moving out of the cities and into smaller towns like Magnolia Ridge. And you may not have noticed, but the population of people ages twenty-five to thirty-five has increased by ten percent in the past year. People are moving here.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, drawing it out. It’s clear she doesn’t know where I’m going with this.

“Well, a lot of them are like me. We don’t know what tools to use for repairs, let alone know how to actually do the repairs,” I say, setting my cup down. “So what if you had a handyman service?”

“A handyman service?” she asks, blinking.

“For right now, it would just be a handywoman service. You. People could come shop at your store, but you could offer to do whatever it is they’re working on for them.”

Her eyes trace my face. “So if they’re coming in to get the stuff to fix a leaky faucet, for example, I could offer to come fix it for them? For a fee?”

“Exactly,” I say, suddenly realizing I have a secondary idea. “And, if they’re interested in doing it themselves, you could have kits for common things. Like, say they wanted to patch a hole in their wall. You already have a tub filled with everything they need to do it themselves. The right tools, the right materials. So they’re not like me, fumbling around with the wrong nails in their basket. And you could have instructions that you write and print out included in the kit.”

Dylan begins nodding along as the ideas take shape between us, like they’re really sinking in.

“Alex, I think those are great ideas. Do you think they could make a difference?”

“I do. We can create some promotional materials to advertise them and offer them to the local real estate agents, maybe in exchange for their ad in your window or something? Plus other places our target audience might go, like the grocery store or pharmacy.”

“It does offer something my competitor doesn’t,” she says. “Those online stores don’t come fix your roof for you. They don’t have a roofing kit.”

“Exactly,” I say. “I think we could write up a business proposal for the bank.”

Dylan’s eyes widen, full of hope. There’s a happiness reaching them I haven’t seen since I met her. It’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

“Alex,” she says. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough. I know nothing has happened yet, but for the first time, I feel like there’s a real chance I can save my dad’s store. And you gave that to me.”

Loving the way my name sounds from her mouth, I simply nod, accepting the compliment and desperately wanting to hear her say my name again.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”