Page 21 of The Fixer

“But what if he’s sleeping in after a late night?”

Good point.“You can use my place,” he blurted before he could stop himself.Shit! What is wrong with me?He liked helping people out, but sometimes his mouth carried him to places he didn’t want to go. He started backpedaling, lamely adding, “It’s a little messy.”

“Do you have hot,clearwater?”

“I do.”

Joy huffed a sigh. “Sure. Why not?”

Damn it! And wow. Let’s not go over the top with the gratitude thing.Did he want this ingrate in his house? No. “I also have two dogs, and I’ll be gone all day, so …” Someone as grumpy as Joy Holiday had to be a dog hater, so he reckoned this was his ticket out of his impulsive, regrettable offer.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, seeming to reconsider, and abruptly came back to standing. “What kind of dogs?”

Not what he’d expected. “A yellow lab rescue and an everything-bagel mutt.”

“Are they mean?”

“No, of course not!”

Amusement seemed to flicker in her brown eyes. “Then your place will be fine. Can I walk to it from the hotel?”

Fuck. Me!

He refrained from smacking himself on the forehead, and before he knew it, he and his big mouth drove her to the hotel, waited while she got her stuff, and took her to his nineteenth-century Victorian located several blocks from Bowen Street. While it was only a few unpaved streets over, it literally sat on the outer edge of town.

She hopped from his truck while he grabbed her bag from the back seat, and her mouth slackened. “Wow. Did you restore this one yourself?”

“Yep. It was kind of my practice house. Every single mistake I’ve ever made I made here first.” As his experience and skill had grown, he had painstakingly fixed his own errors and any others he’d found. Despite the bungalow’s flaws, he was damn proud of the result, and if it convinced Joy he could do the same for her mother’s place, all the better. Maybe bringing Joy here hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

I am a genius.

“Did your girlfriend pick the colors?”

Purple, in two different shades, green, and cream. He loved the combination. Was she fishing for girlfriend intel or merely insulting him? “I did, with my mom’s input.”

“I like it. Bold but not garish, and well-suited for the house and its surroundings.” She nodded her approval as though she were a queen bestowing a knighthood. “I’m surprised you’re not on Bowen Street, though, where all the action is.” She smirked at the word “action.”

Yeah, he got it. But he liked Fall River’s pace; big cities were overrated. Besides, when he needed “action,” he drove to Grand Junction or Durango. If his hankering went beyond what they offered, he could always mosey over the Divide to Denver or catch a flight to somewhere completely different. So she could take her “action” and shove it up her bony ass.

“I picked this location because I was able to buy the lots on either side,” he explained. “Gives the dogs lots of space and room for my equipment and a workshop.”

“You take care of this yard by yourself? Like, did you plant the flowers?”

What, did she think he was incapable of tending a yard? “I take care of the grass, and my mother filled in the beds with her favorite perennials. I just water them. When she’s in town, it gives her something besides me to fuss over.” Not that she fussed over him any more than she did his brothers. “The trees do their own thing. Not much to it.”

He strode up the walkway, but she lingered behind, her eyes scanning the house, the yard, and the outbuildings beyond. What kind of verdict was her critical mind coming up with?

She surprised him when she said, “It must be a lot quieter here too.”

“It is, but that’ll change when the train starts running again. The tracks are only a hundred yards away. You can see them from the backyard.” He let himself into his closed-in porch and keyed the code into the security lock on his front door. Most folks in Fall River left their doors unlocked, and while anyone could access his porch, he always kept his front and back doors locked. He’d worked with too many felons to understand it wasn’t the town that was unsafe—it was the people in it, whether they were residents or transients.

Movement beyond the frosted panels of his front door caught his eye, and he smiled to himself. His dogs had known he was home the moment his truck turned into the drive. Sunny was springing in place, and Luna turned in excited circles. God, he loved getting greeted like that! Nothing better for a lonely guy at the end of a hard day—or a guy with a sulky guest in the middle of the day.

He held the door for Joy, who took a tentative step inside. His dogs charged her, and he raised a closed fist. Recognizing the silent command, they came to a screeching halt and sat, their little butts wiggling on the hardwood floor from their wagging tails.

“Good girls,” he cooed. He dropped Joy’s bag beside the living room fireplace. “The big lab is Sunny, and the little squeaky one is Luna.”

Joy’s mouth curved into a genuine smile. “Is it okay if I pet them?”

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