Hooking a Handyman

by Jacobs, Brenna

  Her lips lifted in a sly smile. “Only if you’re up for it.”

  A rush of energy pulsed through him. Oh, he was up for it. A thousand times yes, he was up for it.

  Chapter 7

  “So here’s how it’s going to go,” Zoey said. She scooted back on the couch so the cushion between them was bare. “The game is called Speed. It’s a little like double solitaire, except faster, and with fewer cards.”

  “Sounds fun,” Harry said. She looked up, happy to see that his facial expression matched the tone of his voice. It was an impulse decision to pull out a deck of Nana’s cards, but she was having too much fun bantering with Harry to do something as boring as watching a movie. She loved that he’d spar with her a little, toss jokes back at her as fast as she threw them to him. It was a side she hadn’t seen of him before and she liked it. Really liked it.

  She finished explaining the rules to Harry, walking him through a practice round until he’d grasped the rules.

  “Got it,” he said. “So we play until one of us gets rid of all of our cards?”

  “Yep. That’s the goal.” She hesitated. There was a way they could make the game more interesting. Zoey had long since learned that sometimes her playful side got her into trouble, but Harry had been giving her signs all night. She’d caught him staring at her lips more than once; he wanted to kiss her. She took a breath. Once she posed her next question, there was no going back. “Care to up the stakes a little?” She kept her tone teasing.

  Harry cocked his head to the side. “How so?”

  “The winner of each round gets to give the loser a kiss, but the kiss can’t be on the lips. Not until someone has won the entire game.”

  Harry grinned. “I like the way you play, Zoey Williamson.”

  Zoey took the first round without even having to try. She’d had lucky cards, but Harry was also slow. She was probably going to be giving lots of kisses before the night was over. That meant she needed to start slow. She reached for Harry’s hand and held it with hers, massaging the sides of his palm just slightly before raising it up and planting a chaste kiss on the pad of his thumb.

  Still, she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Round two,” he said, his voice slightly huskier than it had been before.

  Round two was another win for Zoey, and a kiss on the inside of Harry’s wrist. Round three Zoey won before Harry played a single card. For such a demoralizing loss, she graduated up to his cheek, lingering close to his face long enough to say, “You better not be losing on purpose.”

  “It’s my first time playing the game,” he argued. “And you’re crazy fast. It’s not a fair fight and you know it.”

  Zoey shrugged. “It’s just as much luck as it is skill.”

  Harry scoffed. “Says the girl who always wins.”

  Zoey only smiled, shuffling her dwindling cards one more time before laying out round four.

  “Ha!” Harry said a few minutes later when he finally won. “Take that!”

  He was proud enough of himself that Zoey didn’t even mind he’d ruined her clean sweep.

  Harry leaned forward and she froze, her heart jumping into her throat. He hovered over her, close enough for her to smell his aftershave, feel the tickle of his breath on her cheek. He lifted his hand and slowly slid her hair back away from her neck, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin.

  Zoey closed her eyes, goose flesh rising up and down her arms. Harry’s lips touched the corner of her jaw, just below her ear. Her breath caught. She wrapped her fingers around the hem of her shirt, knowing if she didn’t hold on to something else, she’d definitely start holding onto him. “I hope you didn’t lose on purpose,” he whispered, before settling back onto his side of the couch.

  Zoey finally opened her eyes. “I didn’t, but if you promise the next kiss will be that good, I will.”

  He grinned. “Nope. We’re playing fair and square or not at all.”

  It took six more rounds; four wins for Zoey, and two for Harry before Zoey was down to her final three cards—two aces and a king. Zoey watched, her muscles tense, as Harry flipped over card after card, none of them cards she could actually play on. Finally, Harry turned over a two and Zoey flew into action, laying down an ace, then a king, then her final ace of the game. Instead of throwing her hands up in the air in a customary shout of victory, Zoey stilled, her gaze locked on Harry. “I won,” she said, her voice subdued. She swallowed.

  Harry’s eyes shone with warmth. “Yes, you did.”

  Zoey shifted across the couch until she sat on her knees in front of him, her heart pounding, caring little for the cards she sent careening onto the floor. She lifted her hands to either side of his face, sliding them back to his hairline, then down to his shoulders. She leaned close, her lips hovering over his, but didn’t complete the kiss.

  “You’re doing this on purpose,” Harry said, laughter in his voice.

  “Don’t ruin my victory lap,” Zoey said. Finally, she closed the distance, pressing her lips to his. He awakened to the contact, his hands wrapping around her back. Zoey couldn’t get enough of the man in front of her—the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of his arms holding her to him.

  Harry groaned in a way that made Zoey’s blood heat before his hands slid up and into her hair. He turned his head just slightly, deepening the kiss. Zoey melted into his touch, but willed herself to breath, to keep herself grounded.

  When their lips finally parted, Zoey could feel the smile on Harry’s face. “Actually, I think I’m the winner,” he said.

  Zoey leaned forward and kissed him one more time. “I really like you, Harry Beckford.”

  Harry’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, vibrating against the coffee table where he’d placed it before their game. Harry didn’t reach for it, but Zoey sensed she’d lost a fraction of his attention.

  She motioned to the phone with her head. “Go ahead,” she said.

  His shoulders dropped in obvious relief. “Sorry. I need to make sure it isn’t anything about the kids.”

  Zoey smiled, shifting positions to give Harry room to check his phone. Still, she left her arm wrapped through his, her head leaning against his shoulder.

  “It is the kids. Mom says Oliver has a fever.”

  “Oh, no. Is he okay?”

  Harry stood up. “She says it’s really high. I think I need to go.”

  Zoey nodded. “Of course. Go!” Zoey followed him to the door, scooping up Mr. Brown Bear from the floor on her way. “Don’t forget this,” she said, offering the stuffed animal to Harry.

  He tucked it under his arm, then reached for Zoey, wrapping his other arm around her waist and pulling her against him. “You know what? This is the best first date I’ve ever had.”

  A zing of energy pulsed through Zoey. “Me too.” She leaned up on her toes and kissed him one more time, her hand lingering on the curve of his jaw. “Will you text me and let me know how Oliver’s doing? I don’t care how late it is.”

  “For sure.”

  “And if Hannah needs to come hang out with me and Nana tomorrow, she’s welcome.”

  Harry shook his head. “I don’t want you to have to work on a Sunday, Zoe.”

  “I wouldn’t be working. I’d be helping out a . . . friend.” She bit her lip. It was too soon to call him a boyfriend, but it wasn’t hard to imagine herself saying the word.

  “Thank you.” He kissed her again. “And thanks again for tonight.”

  Zoe practically floated back to the living room. She dropped to the floor, picking up the scattered cards from her victory make-out session.

  Harrison Beckford was a very good kisser.

  Cards cleaned up, Zoey dropped onto the couch and relived their kisses like she was a high school sophomore, right down to the cheesy grin on her face. Her phone rang from the side table beside the couch and she reached for it. It couldn’t be Harry. He’d only just left, but a part of her wished it was all the same.

  Nana’s ima
ge filled the screen on Zoey’s phone, which made emotions of an entirely different sort swell inside her. “Nana?” she answered. “Are you okay?” Zoey was at her grandmother’s bedroom door before Nana had even had the chance to reply. Zoey pushed it open to see her grandmother propped up against her headboard, the small lamp by her bedside casting a warm circle of yellow light onto her pillow.

  Nana smiled when she saw Zoey and ended the call. “Well?” she said expectantly.

  Zoey rolled her eyes but smiled before climbing onto the bed beside her grandmother. “You about gave me a heart attack. I thought something had happened to you.”

  “What could happen to me while I’m in my bed? I want you to tell me about your night with Harry.”

  Zoey sighed and leaned against the tufted headboard, not even sure where to begin.

  “That good, huh?” Nana said.

  Zoey chuckled. “Seriously. He might be perfect, Nana. He’s so nice. And funny. And so sweet to his kids, and let me tell you, I never thought about that being particularly sexy but seeing it in action? Um, yes. It’s maybe the hottest thing ever. He’s smart. Witty. And he jokes with me. I mean, I knew he was charming because I’ve watched his show, but in person, it’s so much more than that.”

  “And there’s physical attraction, too? Good chemistry?”

  Zoey grunted her response, a visceral reaction that sounded like a weird cross between a moan and the guttural noise of a motorcycle revving its engine. It even surprised Zoey and she laughed, her hand flying to her mouth.

  “Wow,” Nana said. “I guess I should say you’re welcome.”

  Zoey tilted her head to look Nana in the eye. “It makes me a little scared, you know? For it to feel this good.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Like it could be too good to be true.”

  Nana patted her hand. “Just take it one day at a time.”

  Zoey nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah. That’s good advice.”

  “Would you move out here for him? Permanently?”

  Zoey pondered the question. It was technically too soon to even think about it. They were one kiss in. Or, one night of kissing in. She couldn’t make such a huge decision based on that. But she’d be lying to herself if she pretended like she couldn’t envision a future for herself in California, a life with Harry and his kids.

  At the same time, if she got a call from Channel 4 News in Chicago offering her an anchor position, she’d take it without even pausing to think about it. She wasn’t sure what that meant about what her heart really wanted. Probably that her heart didn’t have a clue.

  “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “My life is in Chicago. My career. My family. I mean, except for you, of course. I’d always love being closer to you.”

  Nana squeezed her hand in understanding. Zoey’s family had long since given up on trying to convince Nana to move to Chicago to be closer to her family. She had always refused, insisting she’d never sacrifice a house that was paid for and a near perfect climate to be buried in snow half of the year. She was as much a Californian as Zoey was a Chicagoan.

  “But with Harry, you could have a family. Kids of your own.”

  A worry wormed into the back of Zoey’s mind. It didn’t have to be just one or the other, did it? A career, or a family? Zoey’s mom had never had a career outside the home. She’d raised her kids, then mothered her adult children from afar until Zoey’s brother, Nathan, had gotten married and had a set of twins. He and his wife were both teachers and as soon as the babies were born, Mom had practically begged Nathan to let her keep the kids during the day. She’d been a good example for Zoey and had always been encouraging in her own way. But Zoey couldn’t help but feel like her mother didn’t actually think her life would start until she was married and having kids. Her career was just a placeholder, a thing to do until she’d met the right man.

  In a lot of ways, the unspoken pressure had pushed Zoey the opposite direction, making her fight even harder to build her career. She didn’t need a man to be happy, and she would prove it.

  But in her heart, she did want to be married. To have kids someday.

  Surely there was a way she could have both.

  She sat up and squeezed Nana’s hand. “Maybe you’re all the California family I really need.”

  Nana scoffed. “The sound you made a minute ago leads me to think you need a lot more than an old woman to keep you company.” She raised her eyebrows playfully and gave Zoey a knowing grin.

  “Nana, you’re terrible.”

  “I’m old, Zoey. Not dead.”

  Zoey’s phone dinged with an incoming message when she was brushing her teeth to get ready for bed. Sure it was from Harry, anticipation filled her as she finished up, grabbing the phone and climbing into bed before she opened the text.

  It was a picture of Harry in his bed, a sleeping Oliver up against his chest. The light was dim, but Zoey could still see the pink tinge to Oliver’s cheeks and see the damp curls clinging to his forehead. The picture only showed the bottom half of Harry’s face, but it nicely accentuated the shape of his shoulder and arm as it cradled his son.

  “Oh, my freaking heart,” Zoey said out loud. The caption read, Fever broke and he’s sleeping with me for the night. Long live acetaminophen.

  Jealous, Zoey typed out. But no. Now was not the time for flirting. The man had a sick kid in his arms. Zoey deleted the word to try again. I’m so glad, she wrote. I love his little face. There. Totally appropriate.

  I had a good time tonight, his next message read.

  Zoey couldn’t stop smiling. Me too.

  I might have to find a reason to see you before Monday morning.

  Monday morning is only thirty-six hours away. And you have a sick kid.

  Both true statements. Still doesn’t change the way I feel. He followed the message with a winking smiley face. Before she could respond, one more message popped up. Good night, Zoey. Sleep well.

  Zoey dropped her phone onto her chest and closed her eyes. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t happening. She could almost squeal for how surreal it all felt. Steadying her hands, she picked up her phone and texted him back. Good night, Harry. Feeling slightly bold, she followed her message with an intentional, purpose-filled bright red heart.

  Chapter 8

  Harry pushed himself up from the breakfast table and grabbed his plate, carrying it to the sink where he rinsed it off and loaded it into the dishwasher. He moved back to the table and kissed each of his kids, then wrapped his arms around Zoey’s waist from behind and rested his chin on her head. Hannah watched him the entire time; she smiled when he caught her eye before looking back to her pancakes.

  Zoey leaned into him, turning her head slightly. “I wish you didn’t have to work today,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  She swiveled in his arms until they stood face to face. It had only been a few weeks since they’d started dating, but seeing her in his house, with his kids, every single day had brought a familiarity to their relationship much faster than he guessed would have happened had he just been taking her out on a date every once in a while.

  “So we’re meeting back at Nana’s this afternoon, right?”

  Harry nodded. “I’ll be there by four. I’ve got to go by Charlotte’s house to finish up the tile in her shower, but Tyson already did most of the install, so it shouldn’t take me long.”

  “Tyson? From your show, Tyson?” Zoey asked.

  Harry nodded. “Yeah. He does great tile work.”

  Zoey wrinkled her brow. “I think a part of me thought the work you guys do on TV is all staged. Like you bring in tradesmen to do the actual work, and then the pretty faces get to pretend they were the ones that did it for the camera.”

  “I’m going to try hard not to be insulted by your assumptions.”

  Zoey grinned. “I never thought you were faking. You seem like the real deal. Plus, I’ve seen your truck and your tools and this house, which I know you built all by yourself.
But Tyson is just so pretty. He seems like he ought to be modeling underwear instead of installing tile.”

  Harry chuckled. “I’ll be sure and tell him you said so.”

  Zoey swatted him on the chest. “You will not.”

  “Everybody on the show knows what they’re doing and could absolutely do the entire job if they had to. What viewers don’t see is that it’s never just the pretty face that’s doing all the work. We complete projects way too fast to get it done with only the people you see on screen. There’s probably two dozen people that are also on the crew, working in the background around the clock so that we stay on schedule.” It was that crew that made it possible for Harry to have such a flexible schedule, so he’d never stop singing their praises. He was lucky. The network could have said no when he’d demanded after his divorce that he have regular work hours and evenings with his kids. Had he not built up such a reliable crew of skilled craftsmen, they might not have been so willing.

  “So Tyson’s pretty face does have something to do with why he’s the one on camera and not just working behind the scenes.”

  Harry shrugged. He’d stand by Tyson’s work any day, but Zoey wasn’t wrong. “America does love a pretty face.”

  Zoey’s hands slipped up his arms. “We already know your biceps are a part of your contract, so I guess that isn’t surprising.”

  Harry closed his eyes briefly, loving the feel of Zoey’s fingers grazing against his skin. Everything still felt so new, he almost couldn’t believe she was real. That she liked him. Liked his kids.

  “You’re making leaving really hard,” he whispered.

  She grinned. “That’s the goal.”

  “Kiss her goodbye, Daddy!” Hannah called from the kitchen table.

  Harry looked back to Zoey, motioning with his head toward Hannah. “I think she’s your second-biggest fan.”

  Zoey raised an eyebrow. “Second-biggest?”

  Harry leaned forward and kissed her gently. “Nobody likes you more than I do.”