Page 113 of The Fixer

This was no good, though. She couldn’t continue dodging responsibility, no matter how much Playful Joy wanted to stay. Now that she’d let out that fun side, she couldn’t seem to put Playful back in the bottle.

But Responsible Joy, who had been in control her entire adult life, had to get back to Chicago. That was where her home was, her job, her friends. Wait. She didn’t have friends in Chicago. With the exception of Estelle and her therapist, Joy could only claim colleagues, and they knew as little about her as she knew about them—even Sterling, with whom she’d once been intimate. How could she know Charlie’s body so much better after only three weeks than she’d known Sterling’s after months? Because Charlie was an open book, and guys like Sterling—guys she used to gravitate toward—were cagey shadow figures who didn’t want to get too close. And that had been fine before.

Truly, she had more friends here in Fall River than she had back in Illinois. And they were more than friends. In a flash of awareness, she realized they had filled in as the family she’d always craved but never had. Supportive, caring, loyal. And at the center of her newfound family was Charlie Hunnicutt himself.

Charlie was off somewhere for the day, so Joy plopped onto the couch to make a plan. Luna hopped up and laid on her chest, and she stroked the wiry little dog. “I’m glad there’s nothing seriously wrong with you, but you better not tell your dad I’ve been letting you up here, or we’llbothbe cut off from treats. And no offense, but I think I’d miss the treats he gives me way more than you’d miss the ones he gives you.” Excitement and the forbidden thrill had the dog’s body shaking as she stretched out, sphinxlike. “Yep, I get it, girl. I’m in the same boat.”

Beside them, Sunny whimpered and twitched.

“I’m sorry, girl, you’re too big,” Joy informed her. She scratched her soft ears and wondered when she had fallen under the spell of these sweet pups, this little town, and one certain contractor. What had started out as a clear mission had morphed into something wholly unexpected, and she’d been blindsided. She was enjoying a shared intimacy only her made-up characters had known.

Who would have thought Mr. Cover Model, Happy-Go-Lucky had so much depth, a soul that wrapped its warmth around her and made her feel safe? Cherished? Loved? Would Charlie ever consider moving to the Windy City? His essence was wrapped up in his town, and she loved that about him. Loved …him.

Impossible.

They’d met a mere month ago. That wasn’t enough time to know if one was truly in love, nor if it was the sort of love that would hold.

Was it?

And why was she having these thoughts anyway? Because she was wound up in a tangle of euphoric, terrifying emotions. How could this possibly end without irreversible collateral damage to her heart?

Chapter 32

Sledgehammer

“Swing that sledgehammer now.I need to see those muscles flex.” Joy fanned herself with her hand, but she wasn’t exactly kidding. This man was so hot, he might make the entire building combust.

One of Charlie’s eyebrows hit his sweaty hairline. “I’ll show you a flexing muscle.”

“After. Get back to work.” She flicked her pointer at him.

They stood in what, until recently, had been her mother’s bedroom as Charlie tore into the walls. He was on his own today because once again he’d been short-staffed, and the rest of the crew was over at the second job site. The Haven was behind schedule, and she’d delayed her departure by another two days. She shoved down the little voice screaming at her to get her ass back to Chicago.

Charlie paused, the sledgehammer gripped in his hand. The weight made the corded veins on his taut forearms stand out, visible even against the tattoo she’d explored with her tongue the night before. A delicious shiver ran through her.

He pulled his dust mask below his chin. His slate-green eyes, their color as intense as ever despite his safety goggles, danced with roguish amusement, and one side of his mouth curved into a wicked grin. “You do realize that in using up all my energy on this demo I might not have any left over for you?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, handsome. I’ll do the work.”

His grin expanded. “You’ve just given me the extra motivation I need to get this done in record time. Now I’m looking forward to being prone on my back with you bouncing on top of me. Did I mention you’re buck naked?”

“I hope you’re equally naked in this fantasy of yours,” she scoffed.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. The appendage that counts is for sure.” He stood the sledgehammer on its head beside him, leaned on the haft, and swiped at the perspiration collecting on his forehead. “Care to give me a preview of coming attractions? Pun intended.”

“Nope.”

“How about this instead? You take off your clothes right now and stand where I can see you but just out of reach. That’ll be the extra kick I need to go at light speed.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Of course, you’ll need to wear a mask if you’re standing that close. Wouldn’t want you getting this dust in your lungs, especially not when they’ll be getting a thorough workout.” He took another swipe at his forehead, exaggerating the gesture and letting out a wolf whistle. “Now there’s an image I won’t be able to get out of my mind.”

“Nice try, cowboy. I have a feelingnowork would get done then.”

“Well, damn it. Always way ahead of me.” He hefted the tool once more and swung, and his bare arms did that delicious thing where his muscles hardened and flexed, and her lady parts clenched with desire. Maybe she should jump him right now while he was strong and muscly and sweaty. Better idea: maybe she should leave before shecouldjump him. Another “encounter” wasn’t going to get this project finished any sooner.

“I’m going back to your house so I can check on the dogs and get some work done.”

Before she could change her mind and stick around to ogle him—or strip for him—she kissed him good-bye, spun on her heel, and walked briskly out the back door.

After grabbing herself a drink and snack back at his Victorian, she flipped open her laptop and scanned her emails, sorting them in order of priority. How long she remained immersed in work mode, she couldn’t say, but she spent a huge portion of it wading through Sterling’s snippy messages and trying to soothe him while refraining from telling him to go fuck himself. Yes, she knew she was on shaky ground. Yes, she was returning to Chicago soon, and yes, she understood that her to-dos were fast becoming a precarious, leaning tower virtually mirroring the purging piles of her mother’s stuff from weeks ago. Somehow, she couldn’t muster the correct level of concern.

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