Page 3 of Handy

Cole pats me on the shoulder and shakes his head. “Don’t think about it too hard, you’ll only end up sucked into a worldwhere Stone-isms make more sense than the real sayings. It’s a scary place to be.”

I grunt and pull my hammer out of my tool belt, more than happy to tune out all this camaraderie and focus on finishing framing the first floor today. I’m here to work, not listen to Ev talk about his teenage daughter getting her first girlfriend or Ollie brainstorm ideas of where to whisk his husband off to for their eighth wedding anniversary. Even if I cared about any of that, the problem is eventually they’ll want to know about my life too.

Hard pass.

I don’t need family, and I don’t need friends.

I don’t need cute young neighbors with bulging biceps and toothy white smiles trying to make small talk either. All I need is peace and quiet.

Chapter 2

LEDGER

Has that water stainon the ceiling always been there? I cock my head like that’s somehow going to give me the answer to my question. Ah, yes, looking at it at a thirty-degree angle not only allows me to see that it looks like an alligator with its mouth open, but also that the stain appeared approximately two years ago. I snort to myself and roll over with a groan. It only takes half a second before TP’s claws are digging into my back, her little hands and feet clutching my shirt to hold herself steady.

“I should teach you how to give me a back massage,” I mumble with my face against the floor.

A loud knock at the front door makes TP chirp and bound off me. With another grunt, I push myself up and go to answer the door. I already know who it is before I open the door. There’s only one person I gave my address to and only one person I know who would show up on a random Tuesday night without warning. Not that I don’t have plenty of other friends, but none I’d let see this place before it’s fixed up.

My best friend, Jericho, stands on the porch still wearing his khaki ranger’s uniform, his shirt untucked and misbuttoned, with a tired smile on his face and a bottle of tequila in hand. He holds it up and shakes it back and forth like he’s trying to tempt me.

“Figured you could use a drink after our high adrenaline day.”

I chuckle and shake my head, leaning against the doorframe to block his entrance.

“High adrenaline day? We found the missing kid in twenty minutes. Not exactly an excuse to get shitfaced on Jose Cuervo on a weeknight.”

“Would you have preferred Patrón?” he asks blandly.

“You andDickcall it quits again?” I guess, moving out of the way to let him in.

“It’s over for good this time,” he says firmly, stepping inside and bending down to give TP a belly rub when she rolls over for him.

I bite my tongue against the urge to remind him that that’s what he said the lastthreetimes he caught Dick doing what he does best… or maybe it’s what he doesworstif Jericho’s drunken confession last time that the man neverbothers to get him off is true. But, hey, he didn’t try to correct me by calling him Richard this time, so maybe this one really will stick.

If it doesn’t, I really will demand the expensive booze next time.

I snatch the tequila from him with a grin.

“Believe it or not, I actually have orange juice and grenadine in the kitchen, so I’ll mix us up a couple of tequila sunrises.”

Jericho stands back up with a grim expression, taking the bottle back from me and shaking his head.

“I walked in on him raw dogging Ben.”

My mouth falls open and I gasp. “Yourex-fiancé Ben? Love-of-your-lifeBen?”

He nods and unscrews the cap. “Yup. So no sunrise nonsense, we’re drinking it straight.” He takes a swig and then grimaces, wipes his hand across his mouth, and hands the bottle to me.

“Shit,” I mutter, taking a gulp of my own. “How did they even meet?”

Jericho shrugs. “I don’t fucking know. I thought Ben was still living in Portland.” He takes another drink, tilting his head back, his throat bobbing as he guzzles down at least a shot’s worth of tequila. He sputters a cough when he comes back up for air and we wander into the living room. “I’m done with men.”

I chuckle and we both get comfortable on the couch, passing the bottle back and forth while the smell of seared meat makes my stomach grumble and my mouth water. Is Griff grilling? Gah, he looks so sexy when he grills. Last time I actually watched that man maintain a full-on scowl while he clicked his tongs.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” Jericho stretches his legs out towards me on the couch and nudges me with his foot.

“Yes, I am. You’re done with men, joining a convent, et cetera.” I wave my hand, and he jabs me harder with his foot.

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