Page 4 of His Handyman Skills

“Well,” she says, an adorable smile on her face as she glances away from me again, “like I said. I don’t talk to many people. It’s hard to find a boyfriend if you aren’t good at talking to anyone.”

“You seem pretty good at talking to me,” I point out. Then, even though I assumed she was shy and soft spoken around others, I say, “I would have assumed you were a social butterfly.”

“Now you’re just messing with me,” she laughs, gathering a forkful of leaves and shoving them in her mouth. After she swallows, she adds, “You’ve been carrying most of our conversations.”

“Maybe,” I admit, knocking my foot against hers under the table. “But you haven’t shut any of them down.”

“That’s because I like talking to you,” she says, pushing her foot back against mine briefly before pulling back into her space. “Thanks for getting dinner last time, by the way. I can take care of it this time.”

“Absolutely not,” I say firmly, patting my wallet in my front pocket. “You’re a college student, I’m sure your funds are fairly limited. I’ll take care of this.”

“Okay,” she says after a moment, clearly not brave enough to fight me on this even though I can see in her eyes that she wants to. “If you insist.”

“I do,” I reply. Then, even though I’m a little worried she might not want to share, I ask, “How did you meet this nightmare roommate anyway?”

“A Facebook group,” Shayla says, the sigh she lets out full of regret. “I realize now that moving in with a stranger probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“It works out for some people, though,” I say sympathetically. “Besides, most college students go with random roommates. It’s just luck of the draw.”

“I guess you’re right,” she says wistfully. “So how’d you get into construction? You told me about the apartment complex your team is building, but you didn’t tell me how you got into it.”

“It’s not an interesting story,” I admit as I take a swig of my drink. “My dad was a foreman, and growing up I wanted to be just like him. He got me a job out of high school, and I took over for him a couple years ago when he retired.”

“So you’ve known what you wanted to do with your life since you were a kid,” she mutters, cocking her head to the side imperceptibly. “I wish I was that sure of myself.”

“I can’t say I’ve always been sure about myself,” I tell her. “When I was your age, I wondered if I was making the right choice. Hell, even now I’m wondering if following in my father’s footsteps was the right choice.”

“What do you mean?” she says softly, her hand twitching on the table like she wants to reach out to me.

“Well, even though I’m financially set and own my own home, I’m single at thirty-two,” I say, holding her gaze. “And I don’t have much of a social life outside of Lucky’s. I’m so tired by the time I get home from this that I can’t bring myself to do much more than watch movies on my couch.”

“That sounds like a nice evening, though,” she says, smiling when I touch my foot against hers again. “I don’t see a problem with the life you’re living.”

“It’s gotten a little better as of late,” I say, not telling her that meeting her is the reason why.

The moment simmers between us, and I find myself wishing that the two of us were alone. It almost feels like we are. At that moment, it’s like there’s no one in the restaurant but us. Then, that illusion is shattered by our server walking over with our plates.

After she places them in front of us, our conversation moves onto lighter topics. We talk about Shayla’s classes as we work through our meal. When our server comes back to clear our plates, I talk her into dessert. Then, before the two of us part, I give her my number and assure her that as long as I’m home, my house is open to her.

Chapter Three

Shayla

When Leo invited me to use his house as refuge, I thought it was a kind gesture, but one that I wouldn’t use. At least, I didn’t think I’d need to use it so soon. I thought that there was no way that Daisy could get much worse.

Boy, was I wrong.

Today, one day after Leo extended his offer, my roommate decided to pick a fight with me as soon as I walked through the door. I guess that because I usually clean the place up, she assumes that it’s my job. She lost her mind, screaming at me for not cleaning the kitchen. She really didn’t like it when I pointed out that the mess was hers. She kept going after I locked myself in my room, so I sent Leo a text, and as soon as he responded, I pushed past Daisy and started the walk to his place.

Twenty minutes later, I’m standing on his doorstep feeling nervous for the first time since I asked if I could come over. Frustration and desperation to be away from the atmosphere my roommate had created were at the forefront of my mind. Now that I’m away from the black cloud hanging over the apartment, worries of intruding and making a fool out of myself in front of the man I’ve quickly developed a crush on start to creep in.

I nearly turn around, but the thought of returning to the awful situation deters me. I’d much rather face whatever awaits me in Leo’s house. At least he’s kind and respectful. Plus, he’s handsome, easier on the eyes than any other man I’ve ever met. Just spending time in his presence is a treat.

So, after giving myself a little pep talk, I knock on the door three times in quick succession. While I wait for Leo to answer and invite me in, I fidget with my flaming locks, a little mused from the walk over. Then, less than fifteen seconds after tapping against the wood, Leo’s rugged, manly face appears.

“Hi, Shayla,” he says, pulling the door open all the way and stepping back so I can enter. “I wasn’t expecting you to take me up on my offer so soon.”

“I wasn’t either,” I admit as I step into his sparsely decorated house.

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