We walk outside and decide to take my truck to grab dinner. I open the door for her, because my mom raised me right, and then close her in before heading to the driver side. I open up, but as I do, the wind shifts, and I realize I’ve forgotten something. Reaching into my back bench, I grab my little ‘clean bag’ and unzip it. “At least let me put on a clean shirt.”

“Great, I’m going to dinner with Sasquatch,” Cassie jokes. “You know, I’ve got some perfume in my purse, if you want.”

“Not in a million years,” I say, reaching behind my neck and pulling my tee over my head. I use it to do a little wipe down over my abs and back, and then I do my pits last before grabbing a small bottle of hand sanitizer, rubbing it up my forearms and over my hands. I look up and realize that Cassie is staring at me, jaw hanging wide open. “See something you like?”

Cassie shakes herself, seemingly mentally and physically, and grabs my shirt, tossing it at my face. “You wish. Just daydreaming about the house. Now drive!”

I let her off the hook because she wasn’t thinking about the house. She was thinking about me. I could see it in her eyes. It makes me smile, even if I know she doesn’t really mean anything by it. We’ve been friends for a while now, to the point where we once went on a double date. That was a disaster, though, because my date instantly got jealous of my jokes with Cassie and didn’t get that we just tease each other like that. But seriously, it’s not a big deal. Slipping my clean shirt on, I throw the sweaty one at her as I climb into the truck. She squeals, as expected, and threatens to throw it out her window before tossing it behind her into the back.

“The usual?” I ask as I crank the engine. The music starts up, and Cassie nods in approval as Disturbed comes on. It’s another thing that I like about Cassie. We both like a lot of different kinds of music so it’s easy to find something we both enjoy. She can appreciate good rock, and I’ve even seen her humming along the few times she’s heard country in my truck.

“As if there’s any question. Now floor it. I’m getting hungry!” And with that, we head off to her favorite burger joint, a converted train boxcar with outdoor seating that’s about halfway back to town called The Little Diner That Could. Cheesy name, and thankfully, even cheesier burgers. As we pull up out front, she clucks her tongue. “You realize it’s been awhile since we’ve hit this place up?”

“You’re the one burning the midnight oil on work stuff,” I tease.

“And you’re the one getting hit on by women old enough to be your mom with cookies and milk,” she says, and I swear I’m going to kill Mindy or Oliver. How many other people know about my customers doing that?

“Actually, recently, it’s been lemonade.”

“Lemonade and chocolate chip cookies? Revolting!”

“Peanut butter,” I protest, grimacing. Yeah, chocolate and lemonade are not a good mix at all. “Come on, let’s eat.”

I’m glad Cassie likes her burgers because I’m fucking starving. She can put away a burger almost as fast as I can. Her only bad habit is that she dips her fries in a chocolate milkshake. Disgusting, but it’s her favorite so I just don’t watch.

Walking into the diner, we grab our usual table in the corner where the breeze is at its strongest and wave at the waitress. A few minutes later, as we pick up our big, juicy burgers, I pause, holding it up like a drink. “And a toast—to Miss Cassie White . . . on a deal closed, on a project to be completed, on a first gig all to herself. You’re gonna kill it!”

“And to my grunting caveman, whom I know I’m going to bug the shit out of as I get the place redone,” Cassie says, raising her burger. We bump burgers in a slight mash of bacon, cheese, bread, and beef, but that’s us. So what if it’s not champagne? I ain’t a champagne kinda guy. Burger toasts seem just about right for us.

“So, what do you think?” Cassie says before she takes a huge bite of her burger. She’s somehow able to fit more food in her mouth than a girl her size should even attempt.

“Your manners are still horrible,” I tease, taking advantage of the fact that she’s got so much food in her mouth she can neither blow a raspberry nor stick her tongue out at me. “If you mean the house, I think I know some ways to shave a little off the repair bill.”

“Really?” Cassie half mumbles before swallowing. “Caleb, I appreciate that, but I don’t want to shortchange the house.”

“It’s not shortchanging,” I say around a half mouthful of my own burger. “But there are still ways we can get better profits without hurting the renovations. I was thinking . . . you mentioned in your spiel this morning that the place will probably need new appliances, right?”

“Yeah,” Cassie says, dipping a fry and noshing on it open-mouthed, smiling. If her lips weren’t so damn cute, I’d be upset. As it is, I’m still disturbed. “What, you know a guy who knows a guy?”

“Actually, we both know the guy,” I tell her. “I had to pull a water heater from one of Oliver’s properties two weeks ago. Nothing wrong with the thing. It was brand new when the old owners sold the property, but it just wasn’t big enough for a duplex. Oliver had me yank it, and I’ve got it at my place, waiting for the scrap guy. But . . .”

“Caleb, you keep this up and I’m gonna kiss you,” Cassie says before blushing. “I mean, I’ll let you give me a back massage.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, hiding my surprise at her choice of words. “Oh, one thing, though, and this is non-negotiable.”

“What’s that?” Cassie asks warily, taking another bite of burger. “I’m glad to pay.”

“No, not that. If I’m going to keep my other customers happy, Oliver happy, and somehow get that house done before you’re ready to retire, it’s going to mean working weekends. And not farting around for a few hours Saturday morning and then cutting out to go shopping type of work. I mean getting down and dirty for eight hours a day on weekends. But I want you there helping, either as my assistant or as my gopher.”

“Gopher?” Cassie asks. “Hey, I’ll have you know that the braces cured that very well!”

I shake my head, laughing. “That’s not what I mean. I mean if there’s something you can’t really help me with, you can be ready to get me any tools I need.”

Cassie nods. “I know what you meant. This is my first solo project, and I have money riding on this just like Oliver does. What do you think I’m going to do, sit at home while you do everything? But are you sure about working weekends? Don’t you have plans?”

“Don’t have much going on right now,” I admit.

Cassie looks at me in surprise. “What about that brunette you picked up at the grocery store? She looked very interested in you.”

I laugh ruefully. “Susannah? We went out twice. Then she bought me a candle. Patchouli, with a picture of a kitten on the thing. Noped the fuck outta that quick, fast, and in a hurry.”

Cassie bursts out laughing. “Over a candle? You ditched her over a candle? I mean, it’s a pretty horrible idea for a candle, but to break up with her over it?”

I chuckle, shrugging. “It’s a power move. She’s trying to girly up my place so that when someone else comes over, she’s marked her territory. I am not getting tied up like that.”

“Not tied up like that, but how about other ways? I might have some pink fluffy handcuffs just your size. And I damn sure know how to use silk ropes,” she says as she licks her straw. “You’d be sure to enjoy it.”

I smirk. That’s the Cassie I’ve come to know and appreciate. I just have to make sure I don’t end up with milkshake on my head. Instead, I give her a wink. “Now that, I might consider. Depends on what you’re gonna do if I were at your mercy?”

Cassie looks me in the eye with a glint of mischievousness and takes a long draw of her shake, hollowing her cheeks. She swallows with an audible gulp and then licks her lips to catch a tiny drop left in the center of her top lip. I can’t help it. My eyes widen and I feel my cock swell in my jeans, and I know I’m in trouble. I mean, I’ve always known Cassie was cute, but now . . . goddammit, I’m in trouble if she’s just joking.

Cassie waits just a beat and then speaks up “Game. Set. Match. Winner, Cassie White. And the crowd goes wild.” She mimics a crowd cheering. Dammit, I should have known she was still being a wiseass.

As the water splashes over my shoulders, easing away the stress and excitement of the day, I sigh gratefully. I’ve always been a nighttime shower girl. Glad I’m not a man who needs to shave in the morning. I like being able to roll out of bed fifteen minutes before I have to go if need be. Not to mention, the warmth and massaging pulse of the water hitting me in that perfect spot between the base of my neck and my shoulder blades is one of the best ways to relax me enough to sleep. And other places, sometimes.

And boy, did I have a day that has me both keyed up and exhausted. I review the meeting with the homeowner in my head as I pick up my washcloth and start scrubbing down my body. It couldn’t have gone better, and I don’t think I could’ve gotten a better deal. As soon as I got the man’s number on how much he paid his brother to take the property off his hands, I upped it by only ten percent, and he accepted. Even with that, I’m going to get the house for at least thirty percent under local market value.

It needs a lot of work, though, and I’m gonna need Caleb for most of the projects. I’ll have to get him to block out his schedule for several weeks so that we can hit the market before summer ends. He’s going to be a lifesaver, and ‘Mr. Fix-It’ could just be my ticket to turning this project into something that’ll make me feel good and give me a little money to top it off. I know I teased him tonight—I always do—but I don’t think I could do this without him.

As I think about Caleb, I flash back to when he walked into the house tonight. I know I gave him a little look about showing up like that, but holy fuck, he was walking sex on a stick. I know some women like clean-cut, suit-and-tie kinda guys, but not me. Give me the man who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty any day, his hair messed up from hard work and a day’s worth of stubble shadowing his cheeks, and I’m just about ready to fall back and spread my legs. Add in smelling like he just spent the past eight hours busting his ass and is ready to spend some well-deserved downtime with his woman? Oh, fuck, yes.

When Caleb took his shirt off, I almost drooled down my chin. I know he works out a lot. Hell, we’ve gone for runs together most Sundays since I got on a health kick a while back. The healthy eating might not have stuck because burgers are the angels’ sustenance, but the runs are awesome. But runs don’t give you a damn eight-pack. Yes, eight. I know because I’ve counted them.

Twice.

Okay, maybe more. But the fact is, when I’m holding my sides and trying to keep myself from hurling because I’ve spent the past three miles trying to keep up with a guy easily a foot taller than me, and I need something to distract myself from the pain in my sides, Caleb’s stomach is an easy target.

That’s the way we’ve always been. I think it’s an outgrowth of our first encounters as adversaries. What started out in open competition has transformed, and I like Caleb. But we’ve always teased each other mercilessly, and sometimes, even folks around us think we’re a couple, but we’ve never taken it to that point. It’s just the way we communicate, an evolution of the trash talking we used to do. Now, it’s just sexy banter.

That doesn’t stop the secret that I’ve kept hidden for the past couple of months, that deep down, I think Caleb is one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever seen. Caleb Strong sends my pussy into overdrive sometimes, and right now, I’m thinking that what Caleb doesn’t know won’t hurt him. With a grin, I start to move my hands over my body, tracing across my collarbones and down the outer edges of my breasts. I’ve always been a girl who loves her breasts played with, even if they’re not big. A man who can give my breasts proper attention can make me melt like caramel.

Slowly circling toward my nipples, pretending it's Caleb’s slightly calloused hands on me, I close my eyes and let the warm water add to my fantasy. I move my hands slowly, taking my time as my right hand plays with my nipples. “Oh, God . . .” I moan, pulling on my nipples slowly, rolling them between my fingers and feeling the tingle rush down my body all the way to my toes. “Mmm, that’s so good, Caleb. So good.”

I stroke my other hand down my stomach, finding the wet curls at the top of my pussy. My fingernails scrape lightly over the soft hairs, down to my pussy, lightly cupping myself. I start rubbing, letting my fingers massage my soft outer lips, leaning back against the tiles of the shower as I slide a finger between.

“That’s it, slide it in deep,” I moan as I slip two fingers inside me. In my mind, I can see the steely tension of his forearm as he starts pumping his long, sensitive fingers in and out of me. The first things I noticed about Caleb—well, after his body—were his hands. They show such brute power, but I’ve seen his attention to detail and how graceful his calloused hands can be.

I roll my thumb, brushing it over my clit as in my mind, Caleb’s abs flex like they did when he was reaching to grab his fresh shirt. I can almost smell the honest, manly scent of him. He’s not one for body washes or exfoliating cleansers. Give Caleb Strong a bar of Irish Spring, and he’ll come out looking and smelling like a god. My pussy throbs as my thumb works with my fingers, clenching and tightening, wishing it was him I was feeling. I take a deep breath, remembering how his shirt smelled like him—earthy, manly, with a hint of sawdust. Rubbing faster, I imagine him in little pink fluffy handcuffs and smile, but when I realize he’s all mine to tease any way I want, I fall off the cliff into my orgasm before I even touch the imaginary him in my mind. “Oh, fuck,” I moan as my pussy tightens around my fingers and my ass starts thumping into the tile of my shower. “Yes, that’s it, Caleb, make your baby come.”

The world gets swimmy, and after a moment where I might’ve actually blacked out, I return to the shower and finish washing up. This summer might be the best of my life. I’m going to get to spend hours a day with Caleb, getting all the eye candy I could ever dream of. I promise myself, as I pull my pajamas on and put on my hairband to get ready for bed, that I’m going to make the most of it, teasing him while getting plenty of footage for my internal pleasure memories. “I’m gonna make you hard enough you won’t need a hammer to drive in any nails.” I chuckle before yawning. “See you soon.”

I’m asleep before my head even hits the pillow.

I sit in my truck, wiping my forehead with a towel as the air conditioner roars. I don’t mind working up a sweat, it’s part of my work, but damn if I don’t enjoy the feeling of a strong blast of chilly air after I get done with the day.

Things weren’t too bad today. Everything was relatively routine. I had to rewire a garage, dropping in a new garage door opener and putting in another outlet to allow a chest freezer to be installed. Thank God I didn’t have to shove that fucker inside.

I reach for my phone, knowing I don’t want to waste time, and dial Cassie. “Hello?” she answers.

“Hey, short stuff,” I greet her, smiling as I lean back. “You ready to be my gopher?”

Cassie growls. She doesn’t seem to like that word, which, of course, is why I’m using it. Still, she can’t say much. “Yeah, I’m free soon. What’s up?”

“Need you to swing by the house and go over a few ideas,” I tell her. I’ve been by the house twice in the week since our celebration dinner, and Oliver told me to go ahead and roll on the repairs. But for all of his approval, it’s Cassie’s show on everything she wants to do . . . within reason. “I have a few ideas I want you to look at, especially the new kitchen and the color of the stain that you want me to use on the walnut flooring.”

“So you’ve made all the choices then? This ain’t your show,” Cassie teases, and I run my fingers through my hair. Okay, so maybe I’ve gotten a little overzealous on it myself, but there’s something about helping Cassie and this project that’s exciting me a lot more than trimming someone’s hydrangea bushes.

“Come on, Cass. You ready for this? We’ve got some work ahead of us, and I just want to be on top of things. You sure you can handle it?”

“And what if I want to be on top?” Cassie retorts. In my jeans, my cock twitches again. I can’t help it. I don’t know what it was about seeing her so excited in Oliver’s office the morning she told us about the house, but it’s like a switch has been thrown in my brain. I can’t get her out of my head, and every tease she’s giving me is running straight to my cock and making me want to push the line with her just a little further than normal.

Not that I can let her know I’ve been fantasizing about her nearly every night this past week. “When can you get there?”

“I was already planning on heading over. I’m changing out of my work stuff. Ditching the skirt and blouse for jean shorts and a t-shirt. Keeping my sexy panties though.”

Goddammit, now I’ve damn near got my cock hitting my steering wheel. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. What about you?”

“Gimme twenty. I’ll stop and grab some dinner. See you,” Cassie says, the line going dead. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but my cock is still determined to help me drive, so I shift around enough that I’m not going to cause an accident before putting my truck in gear and driving out to the house.

Douglas Street looks even more idyllic as I pull up, and 614 smells heavenly when I get out, inhaling the rich scent of the recently blooming flowers in the big unkempt acre of land out back. I take a moment and see the big empty chunk of concrete that used to be a garage, and while that would be a long-term project beyond what Cassie’s got in mind for this flip, my brain starts making plans.

I’ve got enough time to change and wipe down a little before she pulls up, looking cute but also ready to work in a hip-hugging set of jeans shorts, hiking boots, and to top it off, a tied-off t-shirt that reads Hello, my name is HOTTIE.

“Got dinner for you!” Cassie greets me chirpily as she bounces over, my eyes glued to her tanned legs. Oh, I so need to get her. “Check it out!”

She holds up a plain brown box, setting it on the hood of my truck. “So what’s in the box?” I ask, and Cassie grins evilly, knowing what I’m talking about.

“What’s in the box? What’s in the baaaaaahx?” Cassie imitates, her voice nothing at all like Brad Pitt’s but still effective, and I have to smile. She laughs before opening up the box. Chinese food.

“I say we check out the house first, and we can talk moo goo gai pan later,” I reply, heading to the back door and opening up. “That is, if you can handle the bad news?”

“You’d be surprised what I can handle,” Cassie says, sashaying past me and running her fingernails over my shirt. “Nice shirt. Female Body Inspector? I mean, really?”

Maybe I planned it, but I won’t tell. “It’s an old clean work shirt. All right, simmer down a notch. I can inspect you another time. I’ve got shit to show you, and it ain’t my dick.” We lock eyes, and there’s a new tension, making me think maybe she does want me to whip it out. But then I see her eyes twinkle, and the moment passes, both of us breaking out in laughter.

Cassie rolls her eyes. “You won that round, but you’ve still got a lot of catching up to do. What do you need to show me?” she says, looking around the house, ready to get down to business.

“Might as well start in here,” I say, leading her into the living room. “I started pulling up the carpet the other night—wanted to get a better idea on how bad the walnut floor was underneath—and while most of it’s good . . .”

I show her the section that shares a wall with the downstairs bathroom, where water damage rings and warping are clearly evident. “This whole section will need to be replaced, which brings us to another problem.”

“What?” Cassie says, squatting down. “The wood seems strong at least.”

“Right up until the next rainstorm. That water is most likely from the bathroom pipes, which means I’ll need to totally redo the bathroom—walls, floors, all of it. It’ll take some work getting everything to look right if we’re sticking with hardwoods.”

“You can handle it, right?” Cassie asks, turning around. She looks up at me with her big hazel eyes, biting her lip. “I do love the idea of the hardwood floors.”

I swallow back my first thoughts about what her eyes are making me think of and nod. “Yes, but the stain would have to be carefully selected to make sure it blends the old and the new wood. We’ll have to sand the whole floor anyway, but that means a lot of time on your hands and knees with a sandpaper block to get the edges.”

“Time on my hands and knees, huh?” Cassie asks, reassured, her sauciness coming back. “I bet you’d like that.”

“Yeah, well, it gets worse,” I say, ignoring her comment even as my cock doesn’t. “The kitchen needs to be gutted— floors, cabinets, counters, the works. But first, I need to show you something back here in the bedroom.”

I head for the stairs, intentionally skipping the second, which creaks, and I’m going to have to replace it. I can’t stand creaky steps. They remind me of haunted houses or something.

Cassie chuckles. “Is that how you get all the ladies to your bedroom?”

I look back over my shoulder, where I swear Cassie’s looking at my ass. It makes me smirk. “No, I’m more caveman than that. I just grunt. Woman. Bed. Now.” I growl, intentionally lowering my voice more. “And they tend to run that way.”

“Hmm. I can see how that might work on some women. Especially the ones you gravitate toward. That’s probably all they can understand. Complete sentences are just a little beyond their capabilities, aren’t they?” She’s joking, a little, but if I’m honest, I’m not usually looking for a brilliant conversationalist in the women I see.

We walk into the bedroom, and Cassie stares at the ladder extending up into the ceiling. “Uh, I don’t think that was there before. Why is there a new hole in my ceiling?”

“Joke about your holes later, but if you look, there’s a water spot on the ceiling. Yeah, a wet hole,” I reply with a wink. “I uh . . . probed it to see how wet it was, and the ceiling panel just crumbled away. Climb up and see for yourself. The joists are water damaged too.”

I gesture at the ladder, and Cassie carefully climbs up as I hold it steady. It’s hard, but the ladder literally puts her ass right in my face, and my mind floods with images of me bringing my head forward, grabbing her hips, and seeing what my tongue can find. Still, I keep my composure as her head disappears into the hole. Knowing my voice is probably already husky with desire, I clear my throat before telling her, “Look to the right. The cross beam is there.”

“Can’t see much. It’s pretty dark,” she complains.

“Here,” I reply, passing up my little penlight I keep on my keychain. She shines it around, and I hear her curse under her breath.

“Is it the roof?” Cassie asks, her voice still muffled. “I don’t see any water there.”

“No, the roof’s good. I got up there and checked that,” I tell her. “I’m guessing they fixed it but didn’t check here.”

Her ass has been wiggling back and forth in front of my face as she tries to see the various areas of damage. I can’t help it. The hypnotic sway has me mesmerized, and my voice sort of catches in my throat. “Caleb?”

“Huh?” I ask as Cassie peeks back down through the hole and catches me red-handed.

“If you watch closely enough, it’ll do tricks.” She sways her hips back and forth again and then sticks it out, popping it a little like she’s on the dance floor. I watch her little show, enthralled by her before shaking off the effect she’s having on me. I laugh and give her a good smack on her right cheek. She lets out a cry of shock, rubbing her ass. “You did not just do that!”

“Yes, I did. You deserved it. Get down here or I’ll do it to the other side so you have matching handprints.”

Cassie climbs down, turning when she’s halfway down so that she can look me directly in the eyes, her voice dripping honey and her eyes twinkling. “Is that a promise or a threat? I can’t tell.”

I pause, uncertain of how to respond. My cock knows what it wants, but I’m a little worried about crossing a line that, once we cross it, can’t be uncrossed. Still, she looks so hot in her outfit there on the ladder that I’m fighting the urge to pull her toward me, to grab her ass in my hands and see how far I can go. Finally, I swallow and step back, helping her off the ladder. “Come on, let’s eat the Chinese before it gets cold. And then we’ve got an errand to run.”

I tuck the last of my eggroll in my mouth, trying my best to hide my frustration, but finally, as Caleb pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the engine, I can’t help it anymore. “Really, Home Depot? It’s Friday night and we’re at Home Depot. We might very well be failures of the human race.”

“Failures?” Caleb asks, chuckling. “You’re getting what you need to grab your slice of the American dream, and doing it with your own two hands. What could be better than that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. “You’re right.”

Caleb chuckles. “I know I am. Now come on, let’s grab some wood.” We get out of the truck, Caleb coming around to make sure I can get down from my seat. “Then maybe later, you can grab mine?”

I chuckle. That’s the Caleb I want to hear and enjoy hanging out with. Things have been feeling a little different lately. And honestly, my mind has been running a fantasy reel in my thoughts, mostly involving Caleb, that t-shirt, and not much else. “I don’t know. I have a date later. Bob might object.”

Caleb stops and looks at me, and I swear I see a hint of jealousy. “You have a date? Who’s Bob? You haven’t mentioned him.”

I stammer for a moment. “Uh, no, I don’t have a date. It was a joke.”

“Then who’s Bob?”

I raise my hands defensively, trying not to laugh that I’ve gotten another one over on Caleb. “Nobody, it’s just an expression.”

“Don’t make me Google it . . . who’s Bob?” Caleb growls intensely. The look in his eyes . . . I’m starting to wonder.

I can’t hold it back anymore. I start laughing hard. “It’s an acronym. B-O-B. Battery Operated Boyfriend.” I can see the realization dawn on his face, and then he lights up in a big ol’ shit-eating grin.

“Hot damn, woman, that’s a show I’d pay money to see. What time’s your date?” he asks, playing along now. I blush and give him a little push, feeling his pecs under my palms, but he doesn’t move. He’s steady as a statue. He smiles and then grabs my hand, almost dragging me toward the lumber aisle.

“Come on, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your very important date,” he says as he grabs a few 2 x 4s, placing them on a flatbed dolly. I stand motionless, watching the swell of his arms and shoulders as he picks up the heavy beams like they weigh nothing and noticing the little strip of skin that shows as his shirt rides up. He stands with his hands on his hips for a moment, obviously lost in thought. “Can you stay here with the cart for a minute? I need some screws from a couple of aisles back. I’ll be just a sec.”

He walks off with a determined stride, and I find myself alone before I can even reply. I cross my arms, huffing and waiting. “Fine then, I’ll just entertain myself!” I call after him, but he doesn’t turn around.

I stand there for fewer than ten seconds before a guy in an orange apron comes up, a smile on his face that looks like more than just friendly customer service. I swear, I see him look me up and down before meeting my eyes. “Hey there! Can I help you with something?”

“No, thank you. Just waiting for my friend to come back,” I say, but it doesn’t seem like that’s enough to deter him.

“I’m John. Doing some house work?”

I smirk. This guy’s probably thinking that I’m over my head and that I don’t know a claw hammer from a screwdriver. “A ceiling repair project. We have to repair some joists before putting the new ceiling up.”

“Wow,” John says. “The 2 x 4s are good for that, but have you considered using 2 x 6s? They distribute . . .” He continues to talk to me, obviously trying to chat me up, and while he’s cute, he’s not my type. But he gets an ‘A’ for effort in trying to be sly about it.

A few moments later, Caleb comes stalking down the aisle, his face stony. He walks up to me and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. I fit just under his arm, my head right at his chest level like we’re a perfect match. “Hey, babe. Can’t leave you anywhere, can I?” he says, and I can’t reply. The feeling of his arm on my shoulder and the undeniable aura of his body being so close to me has me stunned. “I found those screws, and I see you’ve found a friend.”

“Ah, yeah,” I mutter, unable to pull myself away from him. I don’t want to either. “This is . . .”

“John,” Caleb says, staring him down for a beat after glancing at his nametag. “Thanks for the help. I’ve got this handled. Appreciate your expertise.” I can’t help but notice the hint of sarcasm to his tone.

Before John can say anything, Caleb lets go of me and grabs the dolly, pushing it with one hand and interlocking his fingers on the other with mine. Paying quickly, we get outside, load up the truck, and climb in. As soon as he starts the truck, I turn in the seat, bringing a knee up to my chest. “What was that about?”

Caleb looks at me for a second, then shakes his head. “Sorry, Cass. I shouldn’t have jumped in like that, but he was obviously flirting with you.”

I bite back a smartass reply, mainly because my body is still tingling from his putting his arm around me, and my hand feels like a low-grade fever’s running through it where our fingers were entwined. “Uh, yeah. I’m aware. But it’s not like he asked for my number or something.”

His face twists a little, like he just swallowed something nasty. “Would you have given him your number?”

I shrug, forcing my knee down to turn and look out the front window of his truck. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not like I’ve got guys lining up to date me. You know how it is. I’m still the new girl in town, and I work for a guy who’s intimidating, to say the least. And I’ve been putting my head down and busting my ass to get started on the right foot. It seems like most of the guys around here want a girl who’s happy with dinner and dancing, maybe a little Netflix and chill.”

Caleb snorts dismissively. “You’re better than that, Cassie. Don’t do that to yourself. That young stud in a fucking apron isn’t your Mr. Right.”

“You’re probably right, but maybe I don’t even want a Mr. Right. Maybe I just need a Mr. Right Now,” I say, raising my voice. He’s got some nerve. He’s not the one who sees almost all the good options snatched up, except for the one who’s put me firmly in the friend zone. “Don’t get high and mighty on me, Caleb. I know you’ve done the whole one-night stand thing before, so don’t give me any shit.”

“I—” Caleb starts before snapping his jaw shut, the muscles clenching. I watch the muscles in his forearms and jaw twitch as he drives me home. We’d decided it would save time tomorrow if I just caught a ride with him. The whole time, he doesn’t say a word, his eyes glittering with suppressed anger instead.

We pull up in front of my apartment building, and I look over at him, waiting for something. Instead, he hits the button on his console and my door unlocks.

“I’ll see you bright and early. We’ve got work to do,” he says quietly, and I realize I’ve been dismissed. I climb out, closing the door and stepping back.

“Caleb—” I start, but before I can say anything, he’s pulling away, my new 2 x 4s sticking out the back of his truck, the safety rag flapping merrily in the wind as he disappears into the darkness. I stare after him, unsure of what just happened. I mean, we’ve argued before, sure, but mainly about things that were forgotten a few minutes later.

But this was just weird . . .

Fuming, I drive the last screw on the reinforcement into the crossbeam, taking a look at my work. It was a pain in the ass bringing the beams up the ladder to the crawlspace, but it’s done, and I check them one last time. Everything looks good.

“If only she were here to see it,” I mutter, climbing down through the hole I’ve torn in the ceiling. I can get to that next weekend. I already rearranged my schedule to have this Monday to work here, hoping to get a jump on things. Looking around, I feel tired, more tired than I thought I would be. It’s been a few days since I’ve seen Cassie after our fight. She skipped out on helping out at the house for the past two days with some pretty lame excuses. The thing is, I’m not really angry at her, although I’ll admit I’ve muttered a few curses as I’ve struggled with a few things that an extra set of hands would’ve come in handy with.

Friday night, I went home, riled up and not really sure why. I’ve never reacted to Cassie’s flirting with some dude that way. Hell, I’ve even introduced her to a few. But that guy was slimy and didn’t deserve her.

“Bullshit,” I mutter, chastising myself. “Great, now I’m talking to myself too. Cassie is officially driving me crazy.” But I can’t stop. No, if I’m honest with myself, he wasn’t slimy and was just talking to her. I just didn’t like it. And now she hasn’t even stopped by her house to check on the progress. Her car’s still parked in the dooryard, even.

It’s obvious she’s avoiding me. Yeah, she might be busy, but she said she wanted to be involved every step of the way. I need to apologize, but fuck, I don’t even know how to start.

I don’t fully understand why I reacted to that guy the way I did. It can’t just be that Cassie and I were flirting in the parking lot. Hell, we’ve done that for over a year, and the closest we’ve ever gotten to moving past jokes and flirting was our runs together. I mean, I’ve seen guys literally grind on Cassie sometimes when we’ve gone out playing wingman for each other, and I didn’t bat an eye.

I’m gonna have to suck it up and act like an adult, though, because I need to go over tile choices for the bathrooms with Cassie. They have to be ordered and there’s a few weeks’ lead time to get them in, so I’ve got to talk to her . . . tonight. Whether her not showing up is through my fault or hers—and yeah, it’s mostly mine—I have to heal this rift.

Running my fingers through my hair, I dial her number and listen to the rings, not sure if I’m hoping for voicemail or for her to answer. When I get the recording, I’m disappointed . . . guess that answers that. I leave a stammering message. ”Hey, Cass. I, uh . . . need you to make some decisions so I can, uh . . . order supplies. Can you swing by tonight on your way home? Or, shit, I just remembered your car’s still here. Gimme a call and I’ll come get you. I’ll be here ‘till six thirty or so. Yeah, so . . . see ya.” I hang up, shaking my head. “You are such a fucking dumbass, Caleb. Swing by, when her car’s out back. Why not just hit yourself in the head with your hammer? Or better yet, smack yourself in the dick. You’re thinking with it too much.”

It’s true. For the past few days, I can’t get my mind off Cassie. Maybe it’s that I’ve spent a lot of time in her house, but it feels like more than that. From the moment I saw her come into Oliver’s office that morning, it’s been like a switch was thrown in my head. She’s more than just a cool girl, the girl I can throw taunts and jokes at without worrying about being taken the wrong way. Now . . . fuck it, I want her. Not as a friend, not as a jogging buddy.

I want to have Cassie. I want to feel her ass in my hands, to run my lips along the curve of her neck, to feel her wrap her body around my cock and make her moan and squeal as I send shockwaves through her body. I’ve thought about fucking her in passing before, but now I crave it.

Whatever. It’s not gonna happen. If it were, it would have long before now. Besides, I’ve got shit to do today. I don’t have time to worry about some damn crush or whatever this is. So back to work. After I cut the supports over the master bedroom, I delayed on the installation, hoping that Cassie could be here to help me out. Instead, I’ve focused mostly on demo the last few days, making the house look like a shell inside. There are walls with no drywall, just the studs allowing you to see from one room to the next. And today is kitchen day. It’s a full gut job too, but I’m going to try to save the cabinets to donate. They’re not in bad shape, just dated, and they don’t work for the open floor plan Cassie has in mind. Saving might be the right thing to do, but it’s not the fast way.

I almost wish I could just roll in and swing my sledgehammer and knock some shit around. Flat-out mindless destruction always does wonders for the mood. The high after going apeshit on an old brick wall or fence is nearly godlike. Giving it a thought for a moment, I know I’m not doing that. Cassie’d be mad, and I’d be mad at myself later. With a big sigh, I head into the kitchen, turn on some tunes on my portable boom box, and get started. Hopefully, I can have it all empty before Cassie comes by tonight . . . if she does.

I get the stove and water heater outside using my dolly, loading them into the trailer that I’m using to haul stuff to the scrapyard. But working alone is hard, even with a heavy-duty dolly. I have to muscle both of them inside the trailer, and it takes up a chunk of time. By the time I’m done, I’m covered in sweat again, and I peel off my shirt, wishing that the water were on in the house. I could really use a hosedown right now, but all I’ve got is about a gallon and a half of unsweetened tea in a cooler. Instead, I use a towel to wipe down and go back inside.

I start carefully unscrewing the cabinets from the walls, carrying them one by one out to the curb for the donation truck to grab them later this week. It’s finicky work. Some of the cabinets are long, and it takes time to make sure I don’t just tear an anchor out of the wall, damaging either a cabinet or the support post behind it.

Still, I make progress, and hours later, the kitchen is well on its way to being stripped. I’m squatted down, head under the sink, unscrewing the drain pipes so I can remove the last section of cabinets, when I hear a loud noise behind me. The unexpected sound makes me jump, and before I can stop myself, the bottom of my head smacks into the sink with a resounding BONG! that leaves me seeing stars. There’s a faint taste of blood in my mouth where I bit my lip.

I hear unsuccessfully suppressed giggles even as stars swim in front of my eyes, and I know who it is. I ease my way out from under the cabinet, holding the back of my head. “Holy fuck, Cass, you scared the shit out of me!”

She laughs, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s still in her work clothes, looking sleek and professional in her white silk blouse and slim burgundy slacks. Her sky-high heels add several inches to her tiny frame, bringing her face even closer to mine. As I peruse her body, I wonder for a moment how she got out here. “You deserved it for listening to Bon Jovi while you’re working. How old are you? Need me to get you a cane, Grandpa?”

“One, Bon Jovi is timeless and whips the shit out of half the acts out there today. Two, eighties rock fits right into my mood when I’m working like this, so get used to it. Besides, we’re close enough that we could have gone to high school together. So I’m more than young enough to throw you over my knee, brat.”

Cassie chuckles, and I hope for a moment that everything might just go back to normal, avoiding whatever awkwardness we had the other night. “Yeah, well, you’ve got an old soul then, Caleb. Where’d you leave your steel horse, cowboy?”

I laugh. “See, I knew you liked Bon Jovi. You probably know every word to the song you’re making fun of me for listening to.” I pause, seeing if she’ll agree or disagree, but she just sticks her tongue out at me. “How’d you get here anyway?”

“Oliver’s babysitter, Emily, gave me a ride. Her best friend lives out this way, so she didn’t mind. And I need to get my damn car anyway.”

I know Emily. She’s a nice girl, just a little shy. She’s apparently great with Oliver’s kids, though, and I think she’s just the kind that takes a while to relax enough to get to know. “Okay, well in the meantime, come here and help me, woman. I’m taking out the sink to get this last bit demo’d for the day.” Climbing back under the sink, I get back to work disconnecting the drain pipes, capping them off for later. I clamp off the feed hoses and disconnect them, making sure the hoses are clear before tapping on the bottom of the sink.

With a little bit of wedging, we slide our fingers underneath and pull the sink out. Once we get it out, I take the other end from Cassie and carry it outside to my trailer.

When I come back, she’s leaning over the hole in the countertop, looking at all I’ve done. “Wow, you know, I was thinking, and I’d like to—”

As Cassie talks, she taps the clamp that I’ve put on the cold water line, and it pops off, the hose popping free to squirt both of us from the chest up in cold water.

“Oh!” Cassie yells, wiping at her eyes. “Shit, what the—”

“Damn it,” I say, trying not to laugh. I reach down, and with blurry vision, I grab the pinch clamp from the floor by my left boot. I attach the clamp and then check the other.

“What just happened? Isn’t the water off, Mr. Fix-It?”

“Yes, the water is off, but there’s always a little left in the lines. The water company just shuts it off at the street and leaves it to the homeowner to bleed the pipes. Obviously, they didn’t here, and with the heat . . . guess the pressure was just enough to blow when you tapped the cap. Pun intended.” I finish my check. It’ll hold. “Anyway, that should be the worst and—”

I turn around, seeing Cassie, her shirt clinging to her body and her hair in wild disarray as she shakes it free, and time stops. The words instantly die in my throat, and the only thought I have is simple.

I fucking want her.