Page 17 of Nailing Studs

His flippant attitude toward my money problems ignited a flame of anger inside my chest. How dare he come waltzing right inside my home and start stomping around? How dare he insist that he knows best about my house?

“It’s not bullshit, it’s numbers.”

“Bull…shit,” he repeated, slowly.

I gritted my teeth and took a determined step closer to him. His eyes followed me. “Stop saying that,” I said. “It’s true. I can’t afford a renovation. Any renovations. My house, my decision.”

Dom moved in closer and pointed a finger at my chest. He towered over me, so I stretched a tiny bit up onto my tiptoes.

“If you wanted to keep this house, if you wanted to stay,” he said, his voice low and almost trembling with anger, “you’d find a way. The amount we had in our estimate was high but workable, with projects split out over time. Even someone with a crappy credit score could get a mortgage on this place to pay for the renovations. So I’ll say it again. Bull…shit.”

I poked my own finger at his chest, which was now heaving just as much as mine. “Why are you being such an asshole?” Our breathing was raspy and our chests heaving and we were no more than inches from each other.

“Why are you afraid?” he countered.

“Afraid of what?”

“To take a risk. On the house. On us.”

I dug my fingernails into my palm. How did this man cause such a fierce reaction in me? I didn’t even know him.

“I’m not afraid.” Wait, was I afraid of them? Not of Taylor and Dom as it related to this house, but of them in a completely different way? Was I afraid of how I’d reacted to them the first time we met, and how I’d continue to react to them if we continued to see one another? Had I convinced myself I was leaving Fosterman so there was no point in seeing them again because of fear rather than practicality?

“You are,” Dom insisted.

“Am not.” We were both shouting.

“Then prove it.”

“Fine!”

“Go to lunch with me.”

My voice caught in my throat and I looked at him in surprise. Had Dark and Broody Dominic just asked me out? My mind whirled. “Did you say lunch?”

Dom leaned back and crossed his arms across his wide chest. “Yeah, I guess I did. Lunch. With me.”

“Like a date?” I asked dumbly.

“Yes. Unless you’re afraid.” He cocked a challenging brow, a ghost of a grin slowly replacing his earlier scowl.

I let the words sink in. “Yesterday, you wanted nothing to do with me. You didn’t even thank me for the cake or say goodbye.”

“Maybe that’s because I didn’t want to say goodbye. And yesterday things were one way. Now they’re another way.”

“How come? Because I turned down the bid? Because Taylor told you I had pneumonia a few weeks ago?”

“Because of those things and other things, too. Because I thought I couldn’t handle things a certain way, and now I don’t feel that way anymore.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I exclaimed.

“Then come to lunch with me and I’ll try to explain,” he said, and the intensity of his gaze and his voice had me catching my breath. I tried, really hard, to remind myself why I’d turned down Taylor’s dinner invitation last night. I tried telling myself I needed to keep my focus on my future, and my future didn’t include either one of the Fix-It Guys.

I tried, but somehow, I still ended up saying, “Okay.”

And that’s when I saw Dom smile—really smile.

And my heart almost melted.

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