Page 18 of The Fixer

The grouches cheered, whistled, and hollered out his name. “Thanks, Charlie!”

He rested the back of his hand against the side of his mouth and leaned down to Amy. “Keep the card so you can add their orders, and put a hefty tip on there for you and the staff. I’ll swing by later and pick it up.”

Amy nodded as if this were an everyday thing, while Joy stood rooted to the spot, dumbstruck. Charlie leaned down to her next. “Don’t worry. When I said you could buy next time, I didn’t mean the entire coffee shop. Just me.”

She nodded dumbly. Maybe therewasgoing to be a next time.

The dazzling morning light nearly blinded her when they exited the coffee shop. It seemed to bounce off buildings and the shimmering clouds moving across the azure vault above. The sky didn’t look like this in Chicago. She would have shielded her eyes, but she was laden down with coffee and white paper bags filled with goodies.

Charlie was equally weighed down, though his armful included a stack of books. He took a long stride toward the same shiny white pickup she’d seen the day before and opened the door for her while balancing his load and relieving her of the bakery items. “Hop in. I’ll take you to your mother’s place. I assume that’s where you were going?”

“Um, yes. Thank you.” She clambered into his surprisingly neat cab. She’d only had the M3 for one day, yet she’d already cluttered it up with the few belongings she’d brought. How did a contractor manage to keep his vehicle as tidy as an unopened package of screwdrivers?

After he handed her back their booty, he closed her door. She studied him as he rounded the hood of his truck. He was dressed about the same as he’d been yesterday—work boots, belted blue jeans that hung low on his hips, and a tucked-in, short-sleeved black T-shirt that seemed to struggle containing his biceps. The shirt itself didn’t cling tightly, but it molded just enough to accentuate his broad shoulders, squared-off chest, and flat stomach. He sported the same jewelry, and she vaguely wondered if it posed a hazard. The only part of him that appeared messy was his dark blond hair, which looked like someone had been ruffling it.

Probably someone had, like that beer-pouring Germaine or lusty Lauren or Neve.

He must have noticed Joy watching him because when he hoisted himself behind the steering wheel, his brows scrunched together. “What?”

Heat flooded Joy’s cheeks. “I w-was just wondering …” she stammered. The creases between his brows deepened. Her eyes drifted down while she ransacked her brain for a plausible excuse for ogling him, unfortunately landing on his chest. A white graphic she’d barely noticed grabbed her attention. It displayed a stylized old house with the lettersPPRinside it. Beneath the logo, Past Perfect Restorations was spelled out.

“Did you design that?” she blurted out.

He glanced down at his chest. When he raised his head, he was all smiles again. “I did. Want one?”

“Want one what?”

“T-shirt. I give them to all my clients.” He quickly scanned her frame. “Not sure any of them would fit you, though. You’d probably swim in the smallest one I have.”

She wasn’t that skinny! “Yes, I want one,” her obstinate side piped up.

His grin broadened. “Sweet. I’ll drop one off later.”

What was she going to do with a T-shirt, of all things? She didn’t wear T-shirts. Well, none that advertised a business, were cut for a man’s body, and were probably a polyester-and-cotton blend.

He started up the truck and rolled it slowly along one block before taking a left onto a packed dirt road—one of Fall River’s side streets.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s going to be a busy day for tourists, so I thought I’d park in the lot behind the store instead of taking up a parking spot.”

“Isn’t that someone’s private property?”

He side-eyed her. “Yeah, it’s your mother’s—sorry, theestate’sprivate property.”

“My mother owns, er, owned that lot in addition to the store?” Why did Joy not know this? Some executor!

“Yep. Fantastic opportunity to expand and turn the building into something truly spectacular.”

“You’re wasting your breath,” she muttered. “Again.”

They drove the next few minutes in charged silence. Well, they didn’t talk. Instead, Charlie sang along softly to a tune on the radio.

Inexplicable sadness crept over her. She felt as though she’d been locked out of his world—which was preposterous for so many reasons. There was no world to be locked out of, she didn’t want to be in anyone’s world in this town, and the mere act of singing along to a song didn’t mean she was on the outside of … whatever, looking in.

What the hell was wrong with her? She was missing her meds, that’s what was wrong. Right on cue, the aroma of fresh pastry wafted up from the bags she held on her lap, and her tummy groaned with need.

“Someone’s hungry,” Charlie remarked as he eased the truck behind Crystal Harmony Haven’s scraggly backyard. The landscaping—what there was of it—looked as though it hadn’t been watered … ever. Beyond it, the back of the building looked even more neglected than the front, and Joy’s hopes sagged further under the sheer mass of the looming project.

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