Holly CHAPTER 13

Holly

CHAPTER 13

“I’m going to Home Depot tonight to wander the aisles looking lost and confused,” I said to Jillian over the phone. “I need paint. I’m doing the kitchen. Do you want to come and help me pick colors?”

“Hell yes I do.”

I was standing at my sink, doing dishes wearing the Death Goddess shirt she got me for my birthday last week. The Doobie Brothers were playing, and my nurse bobblehead was bouncing on the windowsill next to my herbs. She still had the little Thank You sign.

I’d moved her from the car to the apartment. I wasn’t working right now, so I wasn’t driving much, and I wanted to look at her. She made me happy.

“I’ll go with you,” Jillian said. “But just so you know, I’m only looking at the hot men with tools; I’m not shopping for one.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Silence.

I gasped. “Who?”

“He’s just this guy who adopted one of my guinea pigs. It’s very new.”

“Oh my God. Does he use four-in-one shampoo?”

“If he did, I’d let it slide.”

I shut off the water. “Woooooow.” I leaned my back against the counter. “The bar is coming down.”

“I think you underestimate the sex appeal of a man snuggling a guinea pig.”

I laughed.

“So you’re really ready to get back out there, then?” she asked. “Red-tool time?”

“I think so,” I said, drying my hands on a towel. “It’s what Grandma would have wanted for me. And love isn’t going to come find me in my living room.”

Someone knocked on the door.

“I gotta go. The maintenance guy is here. Six?”

“Six works.”

I hit the “End Call” button and took out my earbuds and went to open the door.

The man standing there was in a gray tee, jeans, and a tool belt—red tools.

“I’m maintenance, you called about a door?” he said, looking at his phone.

“Yeah, hi, come in.”

He glanced up and froze. Then I froze too.

He looked familiar. Where did I know him from?

“I . . . I know you,” he said.

“I think I know you too.”

“I met you in the courtyard at the Rose Roof Apartments. A couple of months ago,” he said. “I had my dog.”

I broke into a grin. “Doobie. I remember.”

Wow. He’d looked good to me then, but he looked fantastic now. He’d gotten a haircut, trimmed his beard.

He was staring at me like he’d seen a ghost.

“So you work here?” I asked.

“I live here. Yeah, I’m the maintenance guy.”

I smiled. “This is where you got stung by hornets?”

He nodded back the way he came. “Over in the parking garage.”

“So that’s who took that nest down. A hero.”

He chuckled, still looking at me wide-eyed.

I couldn’t believe it.

He’d crossed my mind a lot since that day. I couldn’t seem to shake that little connection we’d had, but I never in a million years thought I’d see him again.

He cleared his throat. “So you have a broken door?”

“The sliding glass door in the living room,” I said, putting a thumb over my shoulder. “It’s sticking?”

“Okay. Let’s have a look.”

I stepped aside and let him in, and he headed for the balcony. I watched him as he went.

He filled the room, and he did it in the best way. He was tall and imposing but with a friendly sort of gentleness about him.

I knew him by reputation. He checked on the elderly tenants in the building; my next-door neighbor had mentioned it.

I didn’t know what to do with myself all of a sudden. I felt nervous, like I did on a first date I was really excited about.

I tucked my hair behind my ear. “So have you lived here long?” I asked.

He glanced at me. “Not long. You?”

“Since December.”

He started sliding the door back and forth. A nice biceps flexing.

“I never see you,” I said, admiring the view while he wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m on the other side of the complex.”

“And do you like living here?”

“I do. But the job’s hard as hail.”

I laughed at the inside joke, and he gave me a smile. It broke the weird tension.

“So how have you been?” he asked, crouching to look at the track. “The last time I saw you, you mentioned having a tough day?”

I put my hands in my back pockets. “Good. Great, actually. I’ve been making some changes I needed to make. Taking responsibility for my own unhappiness.”

He stilled. “I’ve been doing the same thing . . . I’ve never heard anybody use that saying before,” he said, looking at me strangely.

“Which one?”

“The responsibility unhappiness thing.”

“Oh. Yeah, I kind of live by it now.”

He was studying me. “So do I.”

There was a weird break in the conversation.

“Sooo the door . . . ,” I said.

He seemed to snap back into the room. “I think the track needs to be replaced. I want to do it tonight; I don’t want to leave you with a door that doesn’t close properly. I need to run to Home Depot.”

“I was going to Home Depot too.” Then I paused. “I’m not saying we should go together,” I said quickly. “I just wanted you to know that if you see me there, I’m not following you.”

“What project are you doing?”

I nodded at the kitchen. “I was going to paint.”

He looked toward the sink and stared. “Where’d you get that bobblehead?” He looked back at me.

“It was a gift.”

Silence.

“Are you a nurse?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m a hospice nurse.”

He paused. “Do you drive a white Honda?”

“Yes . . .”

Something moved across his face. “I gave you that.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“I also filled your tire with air and accidentally put a Valentine’s Day card on your windshield.”

I was speechless.

“That was you?” I breathed.

“That was me. John. Worst wingman guy . . . You’re H?”

“Holly,” I said, my heart pounding.

We held each other’s gaze. The same way we did that day in the courtyard. Only today I was in such a different place I didn’t need to look away.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It was too good to be true. My guardian angel.

He licked his lips. “I don’t do this. I have really strict rules about hitting on tenants, and feel free to tell me to go to hell. But do you want to go out sometime? Just, you know, for coffee? Or dinner? I could take you to Home Depot. We both need to go; I could probably help you find whatever you’re looking for there.”

I had to laugh.

“Yes,” I said. “You can definitely take me out. And I think what I’m looking for is already here.”