Men For Hire (12 page)

When she had gotten a call, she had stepped away. That had been a relief. He was used to homeowners micromanaging, but she smelled like vanilla. Almost like birthday cake.
She is fucking gorgeous.

Her dark auburn waves had been piled on top of her head in a messy knot. He could tell it was pretty long. When she had been bent over in the garden, he had watched her unabashedly for a moment. Her round ass in those snug little trousers had done things to him—

The singing had helped to undo them. That poor girl couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, he thought, laughing to himself. He had eventually made himself tap her on the shoulder. He knew the longer he stood there, the creepier it was.

Even though he had known it was coming, her screech had made him flinch. He’d been knocked flat when she turned around, though. He had appreciated her lush curves but hadn’t been expecting that face. She looked like some sort of mermaid siren.

His grandfather had always been fascinated with the sea. He had a collection of old ship models, paintings, and the like. Ian hadn’t entirely understood it, but he’d loved poking through it all as a child. He’d had this wood carving of a mermaid that he’d kept on his desk. Stella reminded him of that.

This was the first time he’d had to reason with his cock in quite a while. He’d been divorced for over two years now. He’d dated here and there but had been successful in avoiding any sort of entanglements since.

Business and pleasure didn’t mix.
Christ
. He knew that better than anyone. His business had gone down in flames because of it. He gave himself a mental shake.

She hadn’t been anything but cordial and already he was imagining her in his bed. Annoyed with himself, he refocused his attention on the flooring in one of the empty bedrooms. It looked as if someone had run around the entire house in rugby boots. He shook his head in disgust. This was likely the original flooring and they’d destroyed it.

He really enjoyed working in these older houses. Most of the time he was able to uncover a lot of really unique craftsmanship when he did repairs. One day, he’d buy some land out in the middle of nowhere and build himself a home like this.

He’d add the small creature comforts, but he didn’t want anything too slick and modern looking. There was something incredibly charming about the history of these old places. He’d like to incorporate that into his own place one day.

There were several pieces of torn up crown molding. He was looking forward trying to cobble together something matching. It wasn’t often that he got to be creative for the sake of appearances. Mostly he was fixing toilets or electrics. It was necessary, but not exactly the creative outlet he’d been looking for all of his life.

He smiled sardonically as he pressed his palm against this windowsill. When he felt it wiggle under his palm, he noted that as well. Ian really had no idea how the tenants had managed to destroy so much of the house. He could tell from how meticulously clean it was that it hadn’t been entirely owner neglect. She’d damn near watered up when she was talking about the place earlier.

Thankfully, he still had both his parents, so he didn’t understand the kind of loss she must feel. He could imagine, though. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought of losing either of them, and then shook his head.

Next, he walked into what looked like a fully furnished room. The only one in the house. The living room had a couch and a table, but the house contained little else. The room contained a large four-poster bed in cherry wood, matching chest of drawers, and nightstands. It was decorated in varying shades of cool greens, lilacs and cream lace. It wasn’t exactly his thing, but she’d added little bursts of color around the room that made it interesting.

As he moved from the room, not wanting to invade her personal space, he saw a painting laying against the wall. It was a lavender lily up against a foggy gray background—with a giant hole torn in it. A little feminine for his own place, but it seemed to belong here among her things.
Shame it is torn
, he thought, as he moved to the guest bath.

When he flipped the light switch, nothing happened. He scribbled some notes. He tried the taps on the sink, flushed the toilet. No water. He shook his head. Nothing in this room worked. This would be his first order of business. The electricity could be a big issue. The water … well, you had to have a working loo.

As he was examining the tiling in the bath, Stella walked in, displeasure written on her face, and said, “Sorry about that. That was my lying estate agent. I’ve been fighting with him since I saw the place. He’s giving me difficulty getting the security deposit from the last tenant.”

Ian shook his head, disgusted, and said, “They really tore up the wood flooring. He should give you the deposit for that alone. Let me write out a detailed damage report. You can send it to him.”

The frustration left her face for a moment. She smiled and said, “That would be really helpful, thank you. If he doesn’t respond to me, perhaps I’ll forward it to a lawyer. I’ve taken detailed pictures.”

“If even a half of what’s on my list is damage from the tenants, and I suspect it is, then you’ll have no problem getting what you’re owed,” he said.

She shook her head and said, “I’m just so glad my mum can’t see the place now.”

He felt that pang in his chest again when her eyes watered. He quickly said, “Well, I saw at least one room looks put together. Did you want me to check anything in there? I stuck my head in but didn’t feel right poking about when you weren’t there.”

Stella cleared her throat and said, “Oh, no. I think everything is good in there. Not so much in here, though. Nothing really seemed to work.”

“Good eye,” he teased her, smiling. “I’m going to start in here. By the way, when I poked my head in I saw that painting. It was really pretty. Shame it was torn. I wonder if it could be fixed.”

Ian saw the flush of pleasure spread across her face. He hadn’t been expecting that. Even more, he hadn’t been expecting her next words.

“I painted that when I was sixteen. It was the first piece I ever sold. Granted,” she said, laughing, “that it was to my mum, but still. That was the start of my career.”

As they walked through the remaining upstairs rooms, the easy flow of conversation continued. Considering the track his own mind had recently been on, it was funny that she’d turned out to be an artist.

He examined the rest of the house while they idly chatted about her art. He’d be interested in seeing some of it. She apparently had started glass blowing recently. He had to admit, he was a little jealous.

She seemed to have the infinite time and space to do nothing but create. He definitely wanted that for himself. That was part of the reason he had started building furniture.

It was past four when he finally finished going over the house with her. As she’d walked through with him, he had to admit, he’d actually enjoyed himself. The repair business was just a means to an end for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken any pleasure from it.

He left for the day, heading to the DIY. He picked up several items he’d need for the smaller repairs. Overall, the place hadn’t been a complete disaster. He was certain he’d be able to repair most, if not all of the damage. And, if he got to spend some time in the company of the lovely Stella Whitman along the way, then that would be okay as well.

Chapter Three

W
hen Ian arrived the next day, they sat down and went over the time schedule he had outlined for the projects. The flooring would take up the bulk of the time, but going room by room it would take just shy of two weeks. It was just about what Stella had expected. A little better, actually, so she was thrilled to be under budget.

He went over the schedule and which days the rooms would be worked on, so that way she could plan her painting accordingly. As much as she’d love to take her time restoring the house, she couldn’t put off work infinitely.

The first course of action was steaming off the wallpaper. She would start in the utility room and then make her way steadily through the house. He would be working primarily in the guest bathroom, which luckily, the original owners had never wallpapered.

She smiled as she thought of her mother. Mum had always had a way of making people understand that when she called something “simply lovely” she meant the opposite. That was how Stella felt about the wallpaper. It needed to go.

She had picked light colors, since the windows were small. She hoped that would make the space seem more airy. If all went well with the repairs, she might ask him to close off the back porch as well. It would be nice if she could get an air conditioner working out there before summer.

It had pleased her that he had liked her work. The earliest of her paintings, even. After he had left yesterday afternoon, she’d managed to find the art store before it closed. She had purchased a kit to patch the picture. She would have to work to match the color of the petals on the lilly but she might be able to pull it off.

She couldn’t bear to throw it out. If the patch didn’t take, there wasn’t much hope for the painting otherwise. It was now or never, she decided.

After she had laid out her supplies, she began the slow and meticulous task of patching it. She ironed the canvas patch on the back, then turned it over. As she dabbed the archival paste on the torn fabric, she heard a loud clunk followed by a curse.

She winced but continued to focus all of her attention back on the painting. She slathered on a thin coat of gesso to even out the surface of the canvas, then plugged in the hair dryer. Turning it on low, she gently dried it.

Stella looked up, startled, when she heard the clump of heavy work boots on the stairs. Her eyes widened when she took in the sight of an absolutely drenched Ian Starling making his way into the dining room. She turned off the hair dryer and gawked openly.

His shirt was plastered to his chest. She stopped just short of fanning herself, because…
Wow.
She could see every sculpted muscle. Instead of staring at him, she said, “Oh my gosh. Let me get a towel!”

She abandoned the painting and moved into the utility room. She grabbed one of the towels fresh out of the dryer. When she spun around, she saw him looming in the kitchen. She handed him the towel and asked, “Dare I ask what happened and if my upstairs is flooding?”

He swabbed the water from his face and assured her, “No flooding. Unless you count me.”

She bit down on her lip, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous image in her kitchen. She moved back out to the dining room table instead.

Ian smirked at her and said, “Christ, Stella. At least wait until I’ve left the room to laugh.”

Stella cleared her throat and attempted to regain her composure. That black shirt plastered to his chest wasn’t helping. At least he hadn’t accused of her gawking. That would have been infinitely more embarrassing.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said as she settled back into her chair. “So what exactly happened upstairs?”

“Well, good news,” he said, false cheer in his voice. “I figured out why the sink and toilet weren’t running.”

“Oh. Is it bad?”

“Not bad. Just bloody nasty. There was a pair of trousers lodged in the toilet.”

“A whole pair?” she asked, mystified. “Why would anyone do that?”

He shrugged and said, “I’ve got no idea. But, I was able to dislodge them.”

A horrible thought occurred to her.

“Oh, Christ. Please tell me that’s not water from the toilet,” she begged, disgust written across her features.

“No! God,” he said, shuddering. “They clogged the toilet and then turned the water off under the sink and behind the cistern. Maybe so no one would try and use them. I don’t know. I turned the water back on under the sink and the knob came off in my hand. I managed to get the water stopped but now I’m going to have to replace it … and one of the fittings too. It was cracked.”

“Lovely,” she said, meaning the exact opposite.

He gave her a sympathetic look and then continued, “There was a little water damage to the edge of the vanity. When it’s dried out, let me know if you want me to take care of that too. It’s mostly cosmetic and on the inside of the cabinet.”

Stella sighed and said, “And yesterday I was so happy when it looked like things would be under budget.”

“It’s hard to tell, especially with the things I can’t really see until I get in there.”

“I know. I know. Did you want to head home? I can’t really expect you to work soaking wet all day,” she said.

“No need. I carry an extra set of clothes for just this reason. I’ll go grab them out of my truck and change.”

Stella nodded and said, “It’s a little chilly. You probably should.” The cool October breeze had been blowing through the house all morning. He had to be freezing.

Towel in hand, he nodded and then turned toward the front door. She took pleasure in watching from her chair in the dining room until he disappeared from sight, and then let out a sigh. She needed to stop ogling that poor man. He was going to think she was some undersexed spinster.

He would be at least half right. She didn’t really consider herself a spinster, but she was definitely undersexed. She really needed to start going out again and meeting people. After the remodel was finished, she promised herself.