“Tip the right side up a little bit,” Holly said. “It’s still crooked.”

I released the corner of the picture frame and took a step back. It looked perfect. I dragged my finger along the mortar joint. “It’s even with the bricks. That’s what matters.”

“It’s crooked. Come back here and look at it.”

I stepped to her side and studied the three picture frames. The one in the center wasn’t crooked. The one on each side was. “Compare them to the bricks,” I complained. “The bricks are straight. Now they’re all screwed up.”

“Okay,” she said. “Start on the left.”

I forced a sigh. “This is going to take all day.”

While Hank had the kids for the weekend, Holly and I were doing our best to get everything I’d purchased put in place. I was beginning to have my doubts if two days was going to be enough time.

“Hank would do stuff like this in ten minutes,” she said.

“Yeah, then he’d have plenty of time to go get the chicken wing girl to suck his dick while you were changing diapers. I don’t need a man to help me if that’s what you’re getting at.”

She tipped the left side of the picture frame up a little. “We’re not made to do this kind of stuff.”

I took exception to her statement. In my opinion, a woman could do anything a man could do. Any. Thing. I cocked my hip and gave her a look. “What are we made for?”

“I don’t know. Cuddling.”

“Like teddy bears?” I asked sarcastically. “We’re basically stuffed animals that can talk?”

Her eyebrows raised slowly. “And cook.”

“You submissive twit,” I said with a laugh. “You should have been born in 1950.”

Instead of responding, she looked away. While I stared at her in disbelief of her narrow-minded way of thinking, there was a knock on the door. I looked at the door and then at Holly. She gave a shrug of uncertainty.

“Come in?” I said, asking the question and giving permission at the same time.

The door opened, revealing none other than a jeans and wife beater clad Baker. I looked him over and then turned toward the three askew picture frames, leaving him standing behind me in an awesome pair of brown lace-up boots I’d never seen him wear.

“Well. Look what the cat dragged in,” I said over my shoulder.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

I was more excited to see him than I would have expected. Truth be known, I wanted him to rush in and kiss me, but I wasn’t about to say anything or even give him the subtlest of hints. Instead, I wanted to be a bitch.

It was something I was good at, and required far less thought than anything else. “Going great,” I said sarcastically. “Just doing some mild construction work.”

“Looks like it.”

I rolled my eyes and then looked at Holly, who was standing near the corner of my desk. With her mouth hanging open, she gazed beyond me, toward Baker. I wagged my eyes to get her attention, but she was impervious to my signals.

Eventually, I gave up and turned around. Baker’s beard was looking badass as usual, and his hair was brushed back and held in place with product. I dropped my gaze to his new boots, and then raked them up the length of his frame slowly. He looked delicious. When our eyes met, I fought not to show emotion. “I’m guessing you’ve been busy?”

He nodded. “I have.”

“Figured as much,” I said snidely.

He pushed his hands into his front pockets. “I’ve been looking out of state at a few business ventures. One of the reasons I’m here, actually.”

“You came for business advice?”

“No,” he said. “I need a manager. In Arizona. I was wondering if you’d be interested.”

I wrinkled my nose. “In what?”

“Managing a sandwich shop.”

I cocked my head to the side dramatically. “In Arizona?”

“Flagstaff, to be exact.”

I cocked it to the other side, just as dramatically. “I’d be working for you?”

“Correct.”

“Uhhm.” I shifted my eyes toward the ceiling. After feigned deep thought for a moment, I met his curious gaze. “No.”

I turned around. Holly was still gawking at him. I cleared my throat and motioned toward the sideboard. “Make yourself useful, Holly. Grab the end of that. Let’s center it with the pictures.”

Baker beat her to it, picking it up before she could pick her jaw up off the floor. As I lifted the other end, he continued his full-court press.

“I’d pay you pretty competitively.”

“I’m a California girl,” I said. “Arizona isn’t my jam.”

“You were born in New York,” Holly said.

I shot her an evil glare. “Go home.”

Baker glanced over his shoulder. “I’m Baker, by the way.”

“Holly,” she said, her voice giddy with excitement.

“Do you two want to go get a room?” I asked. “I’m trying to get some work done. It’s tough with you two flirting.”

“I’d pay you a hundred grand,” Baker said.

“Holy crap!” Holly gasped.

“Not interested.”

“Your personality can’t be taught,” he said. “I could go one twenty.”

I almost dropped the sideboard. “I don’t want to leave California.”

“One thirty.”

He had my interest, but there was no way I could leave my job with Mister Greene. Not before I proved to him that he’d made a good decision by giving me the job. And, having Baker as a boss would mean I’d have to stop fucking him.

I was willing to do neither.

I lowered my end of the sideboard to the floor. “Sorry, I can’t.”

He set his end down. His face was covered with what seemed to be a combination of concern and pride. “You won’t even consider it?”

“I can’t. I made a commitment to my boss to improve spending. Until I either succeed or fail, nothing will drag me away from here.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope.”

He stroked his beard and looked me over. After satisfying himself, he scanned the room with his eyes.

“Where’s your tape measure?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Concrete drill?”

“Huh?”

He nodded toward the pictures. “How’d you hang those?”

“With those sticky things. Command Hooks, or whatever they’re called.”

He tilted his head toward my artwork. “Those pictures will be on the floor before the sun sets.”

I wasn’t an idiot, and I didn’t like being treated like one. “They’re designed for thirty pounds,” I said matter-of-factly. “I weighed the pictures. Twenty-four.”

“Thirty pounds on a clean surface. A brick is basically compacted dirt. I’m surprised they’ve lasted this long.”

“Oh.” I blushed heavily. I felt like a fool.

“Give me five minutes,” he said. “I’ll be right back with some tools.”

I wanted to object, but I didn’t. Seeing a man with power tools in his hand was a huge turn-on for me.

“We’ll be here when you get back.” I looked at Holly. “At least I will be.”

“I’ll be here,” Holly blurted. “Until we’re done.”

Baker flashed a smile. “Be right back.”

I assembled my best laser sharp glare and shot it at Holly.

She gave me an innocent look. “What?”

“Surprised you didn’t offer to show him your tits or something.”

“He looks a lot better in person than he did from your window,” she said dreamily. “I love his hair.”

“He’s. Off. Limits,” I said through my teeth.

“You said you were just--”

My face went hot as my temper flared. “Off limits. Off limits. He’s off. Fucking. Limits.”

Her gaze dropped to my feet. “Ohhh Kaaay.”

“I mean it,” I seethed.

“Okay.”

She fidgeted with my rolodex for a minute and then looked up. “Does he have any friends?”

I gave her a look. “Does he have any friends that would want to fuck you is the question.”

“That was rude.”

“I’m mad at you right now,” I snapped back.

“Why?”

“Really? You were drooling.”

“He’s cute.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Off limits. He’s yours.”

“That’s right,” I said. “He’s mine.”

As the words came out of my mouth, it dawned on me what I’d said. It was a false claim. Baker wasn’t mine. Not at all.

Nor was I his.

I feared I wanted all of that to change.