There’s a woman struggling with a box larger than she is as I walk down the aisle to my car. She’s petite, wearing a black pencil skirt and a tucked-in white dress shirt, paired with a matching black blazer. She’s barely staying upright in her high heels as she tries to lift the box from the pallet cart.

She strains trying to lift the box into the back of her car as her hands slip off. I reach out, grabbing her around the waist before she topples over. “Easy there.”

“Oh,” she says in surprise as I catch her before she falls flat on her ass. “My God, I didn’t think it would be this difficult to get this air conditioner loaded into my car. Thank you for catching me.”

She doesn’t have on any makeup, and her skin is absolutely flawless. Her green eyes shine in the sun, sparkling with hints of gold and emerald. This distressed woman doesn’t even have on lipstick. Nothing. It’s rare to find a woman who doesn’t wear makeup and especially one who is as stunning without. I have never been a fan of overly made-up faces because it’s usually a shock in the morning when you wake up to someone you don’t recognize without their camouflage.

“I’m glad I was walking by. You almost hurt yourself there.” I lift the box easily, but her car is another issue. She’s driving a small Volkswagen, and the box is larger than the entire inside. “I hate to tell you this, but this won’t fit in your car, ma’am.”

She pushes a few strands of her maple-brown hair behind her ear and grimaces. “Crap.” She starts to tap her foot against the pavement and looks around the parking lot as she chews on her bottom lip.

“I can help,” I offer, the words shooting out of my mouth before my brain can even process them.

Whoa. See, I’m not that guy. The one who offers my help at the drop of a hat, and especially not to someone I don’t know, no matter how beautiful they are. But there’s something about her that had the words out of my mouth before I could reel them back in.

Her eyes brighten. “You would do that?”

“Well, yeah. I guess so. I don’t see anyone with you to help. Do you have a man? A boyfriend to call?” I ask, feeling her out, seeing if she is involved with anyone.

“No, no man in my life,” she replies with a faint smile.

“All right, then. I can put the box in the back of my truck and take it to your house if you’d like.”

“Oh, it’s not for my house. It’s for a church I’m helping restore.”

“All right, let me pull my truck over and load it up for you, and I’ll follow you to the church.”

“You would do that? I don’t want to be a bother,” she says as I catch her eyes scanning my torso and quickly looking at the ground.

“No bother at all. I’ll be right back.”

I quickly walk over to my truck and pull it up behind her car and load the box into the bed of my truck.

“Thank you so much. The church is only a few miles from here. You can follow me there,” she tells me, climbing into her Volkswagen. I catch a glimpse of her thigh as she pulls her skirt up slightly to be able to cram herself into the little car.

Man, what a stunning woman, I think to myself.

We pull into the church parking lot a few minutes later. The white church looks to be in need of some serious TLC. The exterior is filthy and needs some power-washing, painting, and probably some new wood in various sections where it’s rotted. The landscaping is overgrown and needs tending to.

“Well, this is it,” she says, waving her hand toward the run-down building.

“Looks like it needs a lot of work,” I reply, climbing out of my truck.

“Yes, I got involved with the church about a year and a half ago after my father’s death. It’s been my salvation, literally. They really have been a great help in dealing with his loss. A few others in the congregation and I came up with an idea to rehab this old church as a way of saying thank you for all they do in our lives and in the community.”

“I see. Sorry for your loss,” I offer, being polite.

“Thank you. Come. Follow me. I’ll show you where you can place the box.”

She leads me to the entrance, inserts the key, and struggles to open the door. She throws her hip into the door; the door rejects her tiny body, and she stumbles backward into my strong arms.

“Oh, goodness!” she exclaims. “That’s twice you’ve saved me from falling flat on my butt.” I have to bite back my laughter at her shocked expression as I steady her in my warm embrace.

“Let me get that door for you,” I say, releasing her from my hold.

Leaning into the door with my shoulder, I give it a good push. It gives way, and I spill into the lobby.

“Looks like you need to replace the entire door. No WD-40 is going to fix that one.”

I reach my hand out to her, and she places hers in mine before walking inside.

“Yeah. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done here. It’s been a little slow going as it isn’t easy to find the labor with the funds we have.” She starts walking. “This way. Back here is an office where you can put the box.”

I follow behind, my eyes alternating between the swaying of her hips and the nave we are walking through.

“It’s an old church and has no A/C. I had to go buy a window unit, so we can start to do some work inside. With the weather heating up, it’s been too hot in here to do much of anything.”

“Yeah, you’re going to need another unit or two with all the work that needs to be done in here,” I assess as we enter the back office. “I’d say you’re going to need to hire a carpenter, painter, landscaper, and probably an electrician to get this place into shape.”

“We’ve been looking, but like I said, we don’t have the funds to be able to pay to get all the work done at once,” she explains as she removes her blazer. “It’s hot in here.”

Her breasts are larger than I thought, jiggling under her shirt as she fans herself with her hand. Man, this chick has one banging body. “Ya know, I do home remodeling. I could probably give you a hand in my free time. It wouldn’t cost you anything.”

There I go again, thinking with my cock instead of my brain. Offering to help and I don’t even know this woman. But I want to get to know her—or at least, my cock wants to be acquainted. If nothing else, I want to see what’s under that tight pencil skirt and blouse.

“I wondered what the Eye Candy Handyman sign on your truck was all about.”

“Yeah, I work for a company that specializes in home remodeling. That’s the Handyman part. The Eye Candy is we work in just our jeans and boots,” I inform her as I lift up my shirt, revealing the washboard abs hidden underneath.

“Oh my,” she says, appearing scandalized.

“No worries…. Jesus, how rude of me, I never introduced myself or asked your name. I’m Clive, and you are?”

“It’s Tiffany,” she responds, extending her hand as an olive branch.

I reach out and shake it. “Nice to meet you, Tiffany. Let me get in touch with my boss and check my schedule. I recently finished a job, and I don’t believe he has anything scheduled for me at the moment. I could possibly be able to start as soon as tomorrow.” Fuck, it hits me that I don’t have all my tools. I left a few things at Rose’s house. I had planned on coming back the next day, not being fired for not fucking her.

“That would be great!” She beams, her eyes drifting down, staring at my midsection again.

I pull out my wallet and remove a business card. “Here’s my card. It has my cell number on it. Give me a call tonight, and I should have a good idea of when I will be available to give you a hand.”

“This is so kind and generous of you. I don’t know how I will be able to repay you. The church will be so grateful.”

“No worries, Tiffany. Life has ways of rewarding those that help others.” I smile at her. “Let me go grab the box, I’ll be right back.”

After I grab the box out of the back of my truck and place it in the office, I tell her goodbye and that I look forward to her call before heading on my way. My mind’s thinking of a few ways she can repay me, and none of them involves money.