Page 2 of His Handyman Skills

“It’s no problem,” I reply, unable to ignore the way his deep, masculine voice makes my insides melt. “Might be nice to have company.”

“Look at that, friends already,” Nicole says, giving me a wink that lets me know she’s picked up on my attraction. “I need to get back to the front. Julie should take good care of you both, though.”

“Julie’s a sweetheart,” Leo says when Nicole walks away. “Feels like she’s always here, but she’s always got some interesting fact about American history.”

“Huh,” I say, following his line of sight to Julie who’s walking over to us with my cup in her hand.

“Hi Leo,” she says as she places my drink on the table. “Diet Coke?”

“You know it,” he replies. Then, he glances at me and says, “You want to split an order of mozzarella sticks?”

“How’d you know I was thinking about ordering an appetizer?” I ask, feeling a playful smile plant itself on my face. “That sounds great.”

“We’ll do that, then,” Leo says, smiling up at our server.

“Perfect,” she says as she jots something down in her book. “And are you two ready to place your order?”

“Can I do the ribeye medium rare with the broccoli and mashed potatoes, please?” he says, reciting his order like he’s done it a thousand times before.

I’m not quite ready to order, but that sounds pretty good, so I say, “I’ll do the same. But can I get my steak medium?”

“Absolutely,” she says cheerily, her pen moving a mile a minute. “I’ll get that put back and your appetizer should be out soon.”

With that, Julie walks away leaving Leo and I alone. I sip at my water, not knowing what to say. I want to talk to him, though. His charisma is charming, and even though we met a few minutes ago, I want to know everything about him. If only I was better at talking to people.

“So, Nicole said you had a bad day,” he says easily. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s nothing, really,” I say, shaking my head. “Just roommate troubles.”

“That can’t be fun,” he says, tilting his head sympathetically.

“It isn’t,” I sigh. “I know it’s normal for roommates to have different standards for cleanliness, but Daisy is a slob. I cleaned the kitchen before I left for campus, and when I got home, it was a wreck.”

“And that’s how you ended up here?” he guesses, smiling at Julie when she gives him his soda.

“Exactly,” I say. “I just didn’t have it in me to clean everything again, so here I am.”

“Your reason for being here is better than mine,” he concedes, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’m hopeless in the kitchen. I ruin everything I touch.”

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” I say, giggling at the serious look on his face. It’s hard to believe that less than an hour ago I was in such a bad mood. I wonder how Leo’s done it.

“Oh, I am,” he assures me, leaning back and taking a sip of his Diet Coke. “I burn everything I try to cook. Except for chicken. Every time I try to make chicken, it comes out undercooked.”

“Maybe you just need practice,” I say with a reassuring smile. “I wasn’t a very good cook when I first started either. My mother used to say I was hopeless.”

“So, you had a teacher?” he asks, quirking a thick eyebrow. When I nod, he scoffs good-naturedly and says, “That’s definitely what I need.”

Before I catch myself, I’m saying, “I could teach you if you wanted.”

Something flashes across Leo’s face, and for a second I worry that I’ve offered too much or that he thinks I’m flirting with him or something – I don’t really have much experience in that department. It isn’t until after words are out of my mouth that I realize how they come off. After a beat he doesn’t seem bothered.

“You know,” he muses, tapping his fingertip against the tabletop, “I’d like that.”

Before I can say anything else, Julie arrives with two plates and a platter of mozzarella sticks. Our conversation slows down, but Leo tells me about his construction job as we work our way through the appetizer. Then, when we finish and our entrees hit the table, he asks me about my major, and I share that while I haven’t declared it just yet, I’m considering going into communications or psychology.

We discuss the finer points of each path, and even though I don’t feel like I’m any closer to making a decision, the conversation has given me a new perspective on both. Leo’s at least a decade older than me, and with that age comes wisdom I don’t yet have. By the time we finish eating, I’m sad that we’ll be saying goodbye soon.

“One check or two?” Julie asks as she grabs our empty plates.

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