Page 2 of Hazel
“But you can fix it,” I ask. “Right?”
He turns his head back towards me and I immediately look away. My cheeks burn as a full-body blush spreads like wildfire over my skin. “Yes,” he purrs, “I know exactly what to do with naughty, wet holes."
2
Finn
“A week?” I can barely believe my ears. This lady must be crazy. Even if I brought in a whole team working around the clock, it still wouldn’t get the safety inspector here on time.
“It has to be a week.” Hazel’s eyes fill with tears. I can feel my heartstrings jerking. Ever since setting eyes on her, it’s like I’ve been in a trance. Her long, curly hair brushes against her shoulders. Those thick, pink lips call out to me. Begging me to claim them as my own. My cock twitches in my pants as she turns around and I catch another glimpse of her luscious, round ass. “My sisters, they’re working their last week at their jobs. We’ve spent almost all our money. If we’re not open on Saturday, the whole thing could fall apart.”
I chew on my lip and try and figure out how the hell I’m gonna help her. I’d move mountains for this woman, but even if I could, it still wouldn’t get her bakery open on time.
Thing is, though, I don't have the heart to tell her no. And that means I’m going to have to be a miracle worker.
“Okay,” I say, knowing I’m making promises I might not be able to keep, “I’ll get it done. Don’t you worry. You can count on me.”
Her shoulders relax and she sits down on a nearby chair. She pulls off her rubber gloves and runs her fingers through her hair.
I sit down next to her and look up at the hole in the ceiling. It’s a frigging mess. I’m going to need plumbers and electricians. Probably have to pull the whole thing down and start again.
“You want something to drink?” she asks.
“Aye,” I nod, “a coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.”
She goes out the back and I start making plans in my head. If I work all day I can get the frame for the suspended ceiling taken down. I can go to the depot and pick up all the tiles and the metal I need to replace it. If I call in some favors I can have a plumber down here tomorrow and he can fix the pipes and replace whatever’s broken. As long as it’s not some weird, specialist thing that needs to be ordered in.
“Here you are.” I didn’t even notice Hazel come back into the room.
As she leans forward and hands me the coffee, I catch a glimpse of her cleavage through the neckline of her blouse.
She catches me looking and stands up straight. Her eyelids flutter. But she doesn’t turn away. She just looks at me, and I can tell she’s thinking the same thing I am.
I’m half tempted to stand up and kiss her. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to make her mine. But I have enough on my plate as it is, without fucking her brains out. That’s just going to have to wait. First I have to make her dreams come true.
She sits down on the other side of the table and takes a sip of her coffee. I ask her about the bakery, and she tells me how she’s opening it with her sisters. How it was something her mother always dreamed of doing, but never got around to. What with being a single mother and having four girls to raise.
“My mom was a single mom, too,” I tell her. “Still is I guess. Never did find out what happened to our pop.”
“You didn’t know him?”
“Never even set eyes on the man,” I growl.
It’s not like me to talk about my fucked up family. Normally, I keep it bottled up. Locked away deep down inside me. The key thrown away long ago.
But there’s something about Hazel. Something that makes me feel vulnerable.
I find myself telling her how my mom worked two jobs just to pay the rent. How my older brother, Seamus, practically raised me. How if it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be in jail right now. But, somehow, he managed to focus all the built-up anger in me and put it to good use. Taught me how to channel it. Use it as fuel to get what I want in life. But how the thing I’ve always wanted the most has eluded me.
“And what’s that?”
“A family,” I say, my voice a hoarse whisper. “A family of my own.”
Our eyes lock together, and I know deep inside that this is the woman of my dreams. This is the woman I’ve been searching for all these years.
Her eyes flicker down to my fingers. “You’re not married?”
“Was,” I tell her, “but it didn’t work out. I have a kid, though. Mary-Anne. She’s a frigging Angel. Lives at home with me and my Ma.”
