Love in a Fix (2 page)

“It’s fine, really.” He gave her a strained smile. “There’s competition out there and you shouldn’t feel obligated to use my company.”

Great, he’d misunderstood.
Next time, Lynds, think before you speak.
“No, it’s not that.” She took a deep breath again. This was Shep, she could tell him the truth. “I didn’t hire anyone else, but I can’t afford a repair bill right now.”

Relief flashed in his eyes, followed by concern. “Why didn’t you say so from the start?”

Hunching her shoulders, she shrank into herself. “Do I have to answer that?”

His lips curled up on one side. “Why don’t you let me stop by and have a look at it, no charge? Depending on what’s wrong, I might be able to fix it with spare parts I already have.”

“I can’t take charity.” But the temptation was strong because she was in dire need. She removed her hand from the pocket and fiddled with her shirttails.

His gaze leveled with her. “If the situation was reversed, don’t you think Mark would have done the same for Miranda?”

“Of course he would.” She peered up at Shep, who stood a solid half foot above her five feet six inches. Victory danced in his pupils, causing a smile to play on Lyndsey’s lips. “You don’t fight fair.”

He chuckled. “Does that mean I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be home after three. Come by any time after that.” She conceded defeat, but not without terms. “And only if you let me make you dinner as payment.”

“Can’t say no to that.” Shep glanced at his watch. “The potluck will be over before we get in.”

“I’m sure Josh is already talking off Mrs. Tisdale’s ear.” Two steps put her back in front of the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She ducked inside before either could say another word. Shep was a friend, a dear one, but she’d not made a meal in her home for any man other than her husband. The idea planted all sorts of strange reactions in her, and if she thought about it for too long, she’d back out.

Shep checked his phone one final time before he left the driveway of his last job for the day. No message from Lyndsey, which meant she hadn’t cancelled.

For the third night in a row.

The first night, he’d been patient and understanding. The second, he’d gritted his teeth and gave a polite, don’t
worry about it
. No matter that he’d missed the concert with the guys yesterday for no reason. When Lyndsey asked to reschedule the first night’s appointment for the following evening, he’d given Archer Reeves his ticket without a thought. There’d been no reason to think she’d cancel a second time.

But when she did, he caught on, should have seen it the first night. Snippets of conversations he’d had with Mark popped into his memory. His friend had joked many times about his wife’s pride and vacillated between finding it admirable and bemoaning the trait.

Since Mark’s death, Shep had gotten to know Lyndsey better than when their spouses had been alive. They’d had good times together and friendship back then, but he and Mark had stuck together while Miranda and Lyndsey had their own bond, as it should have been.

What Lyndsey didn’t know, was that he’d promised Mark to look after her, should anything ever happen to him. Miranda’s death from cancer at a young age made them all face their mortality. One evening, out on the lake fishing, a pensive Mark had posed the question. Neither could have guessed that within a year, a car crash would claim Mark’s life.

For two years, he’d done his best to keep an eye on Lyndsey. Doing so was a juggling game of protecting her feelings and providing help when he could. Most of his assistance came in the form of quotes for his services at a significantly reduced rate. He made them just high enough that she wouldn’t be suspicious.

No one but the pastor knew he’d been the one to suggest a lawn care ministry, from which Lyndsey benefitted. Nor was the alarm system he’d installed for her a promotional unit from the company. He’d purchased it specifically for Lyndsey’s home after a string of break-ins around town.

He wasn’t sure that was enough anymore. In light of her current situation, he’d have to finagle more information out of her, find out just how bad things were. Since she’d admitted she couldn’t afford a repair, it had to be dire. The problem was, how could he find out the severity of her problems in a tactful way?

Regardless, what else could he do? The fact remained, Lyndsey wouldn’t accept outright help, and there were lines of propriety to consider.

The emitted breath of a long sigh fogged his front window. He was overthinking the situation, getting ahead of himself. For all he knew, Lyndsey just didn’t have the money until payday and he’d created a problem out of nothing.

Unlikely.

Stopped at a red light, he checked his phone one more time. Call him gun shy, but after two nights of false cancellations, he didn’t believe she would carry through with plans. At least he hadn’t had to rearrange plans to fit Lyndsey into today’s schedule. If she backed out again, he might send one of his men in his place—a few of his employees were looking for extra work with the holidays approaching. He glanced in the mirror, caught his sarcastic smirk, and knew full well he wouldn’t let one of the men replace him.

He stared at the phone, tempted to call and confirm.

No, best not to give her any chance to back out again.

The light turned green, and Shep moved his foot from the brake to the gas pedal, accelerating through the intersection. He drove down a street lined with beech trees, the same trees his parents had helped plant as part of a town-wide beautification project years ago before he was born.

His roots ran deep in Maryville, the heart of Calding County. Generations of Patterson men and women had raised their families in the area, dating back to colonial times, and he couldn’t imagine a better place to live. While many of his friends had left after graduation to pursue college degrees and grander lives, Shep stayed local and went to vocational school. At nineteen, he married Miranda, his childhood sweetheart, and they’d settled into their adult life, never second guessing their paths.

When they were twenty-three, their life had mirrored an idyllic scenario. His handyman business was well established, and he was working toward the licenses to be a general contractor. Positioned and ready to start a family, he and Miranda had bought their first house, a fixer-upper. His wife had wanted nothing more than to fill their home with children, but year after year, they never conceived. Then came the cancer she fought valiantly for three years before losing the battle, five days after their ten-year anniversary.

There were still days he struggled to reconcile her death, four years later. Same with Mark. Two great people, taken away in their prime.

The memory of his friend quelled the irritation he’d felt toward Lyndsey over the cancelled appointments, replacing it with compassion and empathy. What was a missed concert when a friend was struggling and he could help?

He approached her driveway, and then pulled in, parked beside the modest ranch-style home. Green mildew darkened the tan vinyl siding, and he automatically began devising a plan to pressure wash the house for her. As far as he could see, it was only on the north side, the wall closest to the driveway. A few hours was all it would take to clean it up.

After grabbing his toolbox from the passenger seat, he stepped out of his work truck. Spicy aromas seeped from the house. Shep inhaled. Beef stew was his guess. A full flavor, hearty, stick-on-the-ribs meal that had simmered all day in the slow-cooker. His mouth watered. Although he could grill a mean steak and was an expert grilled cheese maker, he’d never gotten a handle on cooking. Maybe he could barter his services for some home-cooked meals he could throw in the freezer.

Genius.
Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Even Lyndsey would admit it wasn’t healthy for a man to eat microwaved dinners and fast food most nights and wouldn’t see it as a charity case. Not completely, because he’d gladly pay for meals cooked by her whether he did work on her house or not. It was all a matter of phrasing it in an inviting manner. A bounce entered his final step to the door.

He pressed the glowing doorbell and heard the chime inside. 

“Be right there,” Lyndsey called and opened the door thirty seconds later. She shoved a hand in her pants pockets and rocked on her heels. “Hi.”

“Hi.” An awkward tension bounced between them. Why, he didn’t know.

“Come inside.” She waved him in as she turned around and walked toward the kitchen.

Familiar with the home’s layout, he closed the door behind himself and followed her. “Where’s Josh?”

“At Mark’s parents for the night.” Leaning against the counter farthest from the oven, she crossed her arms and sighed.

“You’re not happy about it?” He vaguely remembered Mark’s parents being overbearing.

“I’m glad they make the effort to spend time with him, really I am, but they showed up without warning and asked him before even consulting me.” Her shoulders rose then fell. “What was I supposed to do? Tell them ‘no, you wasted an hour’s drive for nothing’, and worse yet, disappoint Josh?” She wiped a hand over her mouth, her fingertips lingering at her jaw. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have unloaded that on you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cognizant of her discomfort, he jumped to business matters. “What’s going on with the range?”

Lyndsey crossed the room and stood beside him by the oven. She pointed to the controls. “All the buttons seem to function and show the correct messages when pushed, but the cavity doesn’t heat up.”

“What about the stove? Do the coils heat?” He glanced at the burners.

“I’ve been afraid to turn them on and risk further breaking the unit.”

“If it’s what I think, it’s a common problem with this model and an easy fix.” With a hand on each side of the appliance, he shimmied it away from the wall. “Give me thirty minutes and I should have it up and running again.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She backed away, putting distance between them again. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to call my in-laws and make sure they got home safe with Josh.”

“Go ahead.” Turning his head, he gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

His belt loop caught on the counter when he slid between the oven and the counter sidewall.

He unhooked himself and kneeled on the tile floor, pleasantly surprised at the area’s cleanliness. Over the years, he’d seen some pretty horrendous filth behind appliances, an area many people overlooked in regular chores, himself included. The worst he had seen was a decomposed rodent. He shuddered at the memory then busied himself removing the back panel from the range.

Just as he thought, the thermostat was bad. He ran a few extra diagnostics to make sure there weren’t any additional problems. Once he was certain there was only one issue, he ran out to the truck. Thankfully, Lyndsey had a popular model and after he’d replaced five thermostats for others in town, he began keeping a few extra on hand.

When he returned, Lyndsey stood at a counter, lifting the lid to the slow cooker. “Did you figure it out?”

“Bad thermostat.” He held up the one in his hand. “Your oven will be good as new once I put this in.”

“How long do you think it will take?” Replacing the lid, she seemed to shrink within herself. “Should I get dinner ready?” Her voice hitched at the tail end of the question.

“Twenty-five minutes tops.”

“I’ll, um, set the table then.” When she brought plates down from a cabinet shelf, her hand visibly shook and rattled the dishes.

Realization struck him so abruptly, he almost dropped the thermostat. Pride wasn’t the only reason Lyndsey had cancelled. The unexplainable tension between them, the vocal signals, the trembling hands. She wasn’t comfortable partaking in a meal with him—not outside of a group setting.

Had she shared her table with a man since Mark’s death? He still remembered the first time he’d eaten with another woman after Miranda’s passing. It was innocent, a dinner between him and Miranda’s sister who’d come to help clear out her belongings. Until then, he’d never realized how personal meals were.

A time to unwind, to tell the day’s events. A time to grow closer, little by little, as bits of knowledge about the other are imparted and stored in the heart.

After that first dinner with Miranda’s sister, Shep had made a point of not eating alone with a female, not even on a date. The few times he’d gone out with someone, food wasn’t involved unless in a group setting.

He laid the thermostat on the counter beside the oven. “I won’t hold you to the meal. I’m sure you don’t get much time alone without Josh.”

“No, no. I promised you a meal and food you will get.” The timid smile stretching her lips didn’t reach her eyes. “There’s enough stew to feed an army, so you’re staying unless you want to offend me.”

His stomach answered for him with a loud growl. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.” The muscles around her eyes relaxed.

“Good because it smells delicious, and I’d hate to miss out.” He put the exchange behind him and lowered his knees to the floor, grabbing the thermostat as he kneeled.

The routine repair didn’t take long to complete. When he finished, Shep stood and circled to the oven’s front. Before he reattached the back panel, he tested the appliance by setting the oven to preheat at three-hundred and seventy-five degrees.

Lyndsey popped into the kitchen for the third time. “Is it fixed?”

“Think so.” He pointed to the digital clock where the numbers increased by the second. “Testing it out now.”

“I can’t thank you enough.” She started to sigh, then seemingly cut it short.

“Glad to help.” The oven beeped, and he lowered the door. Took out his thermometer he used for assessment. Three hundred and seventy-five degrees. “Perfect. You’re all set.”

“The slow cooker will be glad for a break.” A soft laugh floated through the air.

Her eyes lit up when she laughed, sparkled like gemstones. He’d never noticed before, and it disturbed him that he did so now. Technically, there were no reasons why it was wrong to notice an attractive trait in Lyndsey, but he’d not noticed anything about any woman in a physical sense since Miranda’s death.

He brushed it off.
You’re thinking too much again.
“Try microwave dinners for a week straight. You’ll be thankful for anything else.”

Another laugh. “I don’t give it enough credit. To tell the truth, I use the slow cooker a lot, especially in winter.” She moved to the fridge and opened the door. “I have tea and water to drink. Orange juice, too, but it’s the more kid-friendly version since Josh is the only one that drinks it. Or I could brew a pot of coffee.”

“Tea’s fine.” Reaching out, he pressed the correct button to turn off the oven. “Give me five minutes to put it all back together and I’ll be done.”

“I’ll finish setting the table.” She gestured toward the dining room as though Shep didn’t know where it was located in the house.

Thirty-five minutes later, his stomach reached its max occupancy after he’d consumed two large bowls of the stew. Man, he missed home cooking. His idea from earlier resurfaced. Did he dare suggest a barter of services? Lyndsey had unwound considerably since he’d first arrived, and he didn’t want to set them back to an awkward place.