A Fix Fling (The Fix Book 5)

by Carey Heywood

  Three hours away might sound far but growing up in Texas, you learn that’s nothing. From north to south or east to west, if you’re going from one side of the state to the other it could easily take fourteen hours just to get out of it.

  His hands move to my waist as he turns me to face him fully, and lowers his mouth to mine. “I was focused on other things.”

  Before his kiss can make me forget what we’re talking about, I take a step back. “What are the odds?”

  His eyes slowly open. “The odds?”

  My hands flail, which they have a habit of doing when I’m excited. “We’re both from Texas but meet in New Hampshire.”

  He frowns. “I live here though so that’s not much of a stretch on my end.”

  “Do you ever go back to visit?”

  He shakes his head.

  Darn, I was hoping he still had family there that he might visit, and see me in the process. “Oh well, never mind then.”

  He erases the space between us and frames my face with his warm palms. “I’ve always wanted to go back and visit.”

  I gulp, our eyes locking. “You should.”

  His hands move and slowly make their way down my sides until they stop at my hips. “Would you show me around?”

  I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck. Then, the making out begins. Sadly, not long into it, we’re interrupted by a loud crash. Malcolm breaks our kiss and hurries out of the room. It takes me longer to come out of my kiss fog, but when I do, I follow him.

  When I find him, he’s in the most dated kitchen I’ve ever stepped foot in. Or, since everything appears to be in pristine condition, maybe retro would be more accurate than dated. His back is to me as he crouches on the floor with some paper towel, mopping up a puddle of water in front of a dish.

  “Everything okay? What was that noise?”

  He motions to the water dish. “Flower Petal likes to play in the water dish and make a giant mess.”

  I press my lips together to keep from laughing. Once I’ve pulled myself together, I ask, “Flower Petal?”

  He smirks, before standing and tossing the soggy towels. “I don’t name them. With the cuter ones, the group I work with will host naming contest donation drives where the winner gets to pick a name.”

  “That was the winning name?”

  He nods, his smirk easing into a smile. “It was.”

  “What’s the weirdest name one has ever been given?”

  He cocks his head to the side. “There have been a few. Let’s see, I fostered a pug named Beyonce, a chow named Cheezit, and a Poodle name Killer.”

  “A Standard Poodle?”

  He nods and I burst out laughing.

  My laughter turns out to be some type of call for the dogs, most of them rushing into the kitchen to see what the fuss is about.

  He glances from them to me. “Want to go for a walk with these furballs?”

  The moment they hear the word walk, pandemonium breaks out, making him cringe.

  Since I wanted to see more of his property, I tease, “I don’t think no is an option at this point.”

  When he guides me toward a back door, I look at all of the dogs and then back to him. “No leashes?”

  He shakes his head. “They have a doggy door so they can go out whenever they want. They just like company.”

  They are not the only ones.

  As much as I’m trying not to think about it, I’m going to miss Malcolm’s company, and not only his company in the bedroom. I like the way my hand feels in his. I like how easy it is to talk to him.

  I like him.

  And, I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.

  Once we’re on the backside of the house, most of the dogs scatter, Jack and Morgan staying with us. From every angle, Woodlake Mountain is there in all its glory.

  “Do you ski or snowboard?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I skied when I was younger, I snowboard now.”

  “Growing up here, you were probably on skis in elementary school.”

  He guides me toward a worn walking path that gradually slopes downward away from the cabin. Spring is on full display as we wander under a canopy of trees. The temperature drops in the shade, making me wish I had grabbed my jacket before we came outside. When I shiver, Malcolm pulls me closer to his side and wraps his arm around me.

  He’s solid and warm, it’s impossible not to lean even closer.

  “Are you cold?”

  I shake my head. “I’m better now.”

  “Good, because we’re almost there.”

  My brows furrow. “Almost where?”

  I hear it before I see it. Running water. As we come around the bend of the path, a healthy stream comes into view.

  “Oh, how beautiful.”

  With the lush green woods around it, this stream is plucked right out of a fairy tale. As sunlight peeks through the leafy forest, I move closer to get a better look. The water is crystal clear, and the bed and edges of the stream are lined with smooth gray rocks.

  “How deep is it?”

  “About waist high for me so a bit higher for you.”

  I bend down and dip my fingers into the cool water, tugging them back instantly. “Lord, that’s cold.”

  He laughs, the throaty sound of it echoing through the trees. “It’s fed from melting snow.”

  He moves closer, taking my stream cooled hand between both of his and lifting it up to his mouth. Cupping my hand, he blows warm breath onto it as I stare slack jawed up at him.

  Desperate to avoid telling him how much I’m going to miss him, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “So, no skinny dipping, huh?”

  He smiles. “We’ve a hot spring for that.”

  My brain stutters. “You do?”

  He nods. “I’ll have to show you that another time since we’d have to ride the ATVs to get to it.”

  “But, I’m leaving,” I argue.

  He lowers my hand but doesn’t let go of it. “Now I’ve given you a reason to come back.”

  Without waiting for me to reply, he starts walking again, giving my hand a gentle tug for me to follow. I do, but I do it with my mind already working out how quickly I could swing coming back here.

  Three

  It’s been two weeks since I said goodbye to Malcolm, two long lonely weeks. The only bright spot has been the beach house listings Finley has been emailing me to check out for them. With work, and touring homes, my days are busy enough that I don’t think about him until I turn in for the night.

  It’s crazy, but one week of sleeping beside Malcolm each night has rewired my brain. Without his warm bulky frame to curl up next to, I struggle to fall asleep, and even when I do sleep I toss and turn.

  Two weeks of crap sleep are taking their toll. The only thing stopping me from collapsing into bed right now is wanting to tell Finley about the house I looked at today.

  Sliding my thumb over the screen of my cell, I touch her name to call her.

  “Guess who I talked to today.”

  Despite my exhaustion, I grin to myself. “That’s a funny way to say hello cuz.”

  Her huff is audible through the phone. “Hello. Now guess.”

  Sinking down onto my bed, I kick off my shoes. “I have no idea. Besides, I’m the one who called you so I could tell you about a beach house.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  I flop back onto my pillows. “That’s not very nice.”

  “Fine, I’ll just tell you. I talked to Paige. I’m not even going to ask you to guess who she talked to.”

  Before she can finish her sentence, I sit up and breathe, “Malcolm.”

  “See, you can guess.”

  My heart starts pounding double time. “What’d he say to her?”

  “Hehe. I knew you’d want to know.”

  If I could strangle her long distance through my phone, I would. “Finley Elizabeth Re—Er Thompson, you spill right now.”

  “He asked about you and if she knew when you might b
e coming back for a visit.”

  Ugh. He has my number. Why couldn’t he call me himself to ask? I’ve been overthinking why I haven’t heard from him like a crazy person. It’s probably why I haven’t been sleeping.

  “And,” she keeps going. “He asked her if she thought it was too soon to call you.”

  “He thought waiting two weeks was too soon to call?” I blurt.

  Her laughter greets me through the phone. “Guys are weird. Anyway, she told him to get off of his ass and call you already.”

  Even I can crack a smile at that as I picture Paige bossing Malcolm around.

  Getting to my feet, I start to pace. “Do you think he’ll call tonight?”

  “He better. Now, tell me about this house.”

  I stomp out of my room and into my kitchen.

  Pressing my shoulder to the back of my phone to hold it in place, I pour myself a glass of wine. “How can I talk about a house when I’m freaking out over whether or not he’ll call.”

  “You can’t control if he’ll call or not, so why not focus on something you can control and tell me all about this house.”

  She makes a good point.

  “All right. I’m opening my laptop right now and am emailing you the link so you can see all the pictures. It definitely needs work but compared to all of the other places the price is under your budget.”

  Her laughter rings through the phone. “It better be under budget if it needs work.”

  Taking my wine with me, I head back to my room. “I know less about building stuff than either of you so look at the pictures with Noah and let me know.”

  “We can do that but before we do, tell me the stuff you do know, like how was the vibe?”

  Grinning at her question, I set my glass on my bedside table. “The neighborhood looked good. This house was the yuckiest on it which you guys told me to look for and even though it needs work, it had a nice layout.”

  I hear tapping through the line. “Okay, I’m pulling up your email.” There’s a pause then. “Yikes, is it seriously lime green?”

  “That’s easy to change right?” I ask.

  She hums. “I hope it’s just painted and not vinyl, but out of all the changes you can make to a house, it’s not a bad one and it would instantly make a huge difference.”

  As she clicks through the pictures I sip my wine.

  “Oh, I like the kitchen.”

  Finley loves to cook so I knew she’d love it as soon as I saw it.

  Beep.

  Pulling my phone from my ear, I almost drop it when I see it’s Malcolm’s name lighting up my screen. “Malcolm is calling.”

  “Well hang up with me and answer him. Bye,” Finley orders.

  Listening to her, I do. “Hi.”

  “Man I missed the sound of your voice.”

  I melt into a giant puddle, carefully setting down my wine glass first. “I miss you.”

  “I should have called sooner.”

  Pressing my hand to my chest I reply, “No, it’s fine.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  Like an idiot, I grin up at my ceiling. “I’ve only been home for two weeks.”

  “So what you’re saying is I should come out there.”

  I sit up so fast I get dizzy. “What?”

  There’s a pause, a long agonizing pause where I wonder if I imagined or misheard what he said.

  “Heather, do you want me to?”

  My voice is a whisper. “Yes.”

  He chuckles, the sound of it making my belly flip in a good way. “One more time.”

  This time my response is much louder. “Yes.”

  “Just tell me when.”

  I smile so big my cheeks hurt. “When.”

  He laughs. “Are you sure?”

  “I am, book a flight and come as soon as you can.”

  “My flight lands tomorrow.”

  My phone slips out of my hand, bounces off of my bed and onto the floor. I have to scramble around on my hands and knees to find it.

  Once I have it in my grasp, I sit down right there and bring it back to my ear to hear Malcolm saying my name over and over again. “Heather?”

  “I’m here. I’m sorry. I dropped my phone. I’m not sure if I heard you right. Did you say you are coming tomorrow?”

  “I did.”

  Holding my phone with both hands, tears sting my eyes. “You didn’t.”

  He laughs, the sound of it waking me up more than a hundred cups of coffee could.

  “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  “When? What time does your flight land?”

  Jumping to my feet, I race into the kitchen for a pen to jot down his flight information, my hands shaking as I do.

  After I repeat it back to him to be sure, I say, “I might pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

  “If you wait until tomorrow I can do it for you.”

  I shiver, and not from a chill. “God, I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Same here.”

  I set my pen down and trace the information I wrote with my fingertip. “What about the Moose and all of your dogs?”

  “Dave can manage the bar and Tim can handle the dogs for a few days.”

  My finger stills. “A few? How long can you stay?”

  “Not as long as I’d like, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “Impossible,” I reply, meaning it.

  “You say that now, but we can talk more tomorrow. I need to get down to the bar.”

  “Malcolm.”

  “Yes?”

  I wet my lips. “Thank you.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then says. “Thank me in person tomorrow.”

  My belly gets warm at the thought of how many ways I can thank him. “Okay.”

  As soon as we hang up, I freak out. I’ve seen both of his places, both, and mine looks like crap in comparison. Housekeeping has never been my strong suit. I’ve got stacks of dishes in the sink to do, plus several loads of laundry.

  Whirling into action, I open all of my blinds to let light stream in. Then I start in the kitchen. Part of the reason why I have so many dishes to clean is because I don’t have a dishwasher and have to do them all by hand. Emptying the sink I wipe it down and rinse it before refilling it with hot soapy water.

  While it fills, I dash around my bedroom to collect all my dirty clothes. Carrying them by the armful, I pile them in my living room.

  Racing back to the kitchen, I cut the water before the sink overflows and set a stack of dishes into it. Giving them time to soak, I hurry back to my bedroom to grab another pile of dirty clothes. I repeat this process until all of my clothes that need to be washed are in my living room. Then I strip my bed and collect all the towels from the bathroom.

  It takes time to sort the light and darks but once that’s done, getting my stuff to the laundry room is a breeze. I take up an entire wall of washers and pay the kid who lives below me to guard them and text me when it’s time to move them to the dryer.

  I have dishes waiting for me upstairs. As soon as they’re done, I have a bed to remake and the rest of my apartment to freshen up.

  I want Malcolm to like my place and want to come back again.

  Pulling the stopper out, I drain the sink so I can refill it with fresh water and get started on the next stack of dishes. Since I don’t have time to hand dry all of them, I cover any available counter space with dishtowels to spread the clean dishes across to air dry.

  I’m on my final stack of dirty dishes when I hear a knock on my door. Checking the peephole, I see Lenny, the kid from downstairs.

  He starts talking the second I open the door. “Lady, your hands are dripping.”

  “You were supposed to text.”

  He smirks and folds his arms over his chest. “I did but you didn’t answer or come down.”

  Drat. I guess I couldn’t hear my text notification over all the water I was splashing. “Who is watching my
stuff.”

  He holds up his hands. “I paid my kid sister a buck to do it.”

  “Oh cool.”

  Key and quarters for the dryers in hand, I follow him back down to the laundry room. It’s quick work to move all of my wet stuff into dryers.

  I glance over my shoulder at Lenny. “Thanks kid.”

  He shrugs and pulls out his phone.

  Dashing back up to my apartment, I work like a woman possessed to make sure every room is company ready. Someday I’ll have it together enough to keep it clean but with work, touring houses, and getting crap sleep, it’s been low on my priority list.

  I clean until my phone buzzes with an incoming text. Then I pay Lenny an extra five to help me carry all of it back up to my place.

  A few hours ago, all I wanted to do was pass out after I told Finley about the house. Now, nervous anticipation has me wired until all of my stuff is folded and put away.

  “Short of running out and buying new stuff, this is as good as it’s getting.”

  I close my blinds and get into bed. My eyes close as soon as my head hits my pillow, and I get the best night of sleep I’ve had since I got home from New Hampshire.

  “Hey Yolanda, it’s Heather.”

  Yolanda has been my manager at the boutique I’ve worked at for the last three years.

  Some people might hate being on their feet all-day and dealing with customers but I love it. Plus, the awesome discount is the reason I have enough cute outfits to ignore my laundry pile on the regular.

  “Hiya chica. What’s up? Everything okay?”

  I tug open my car door. “Remember that guy I told you about, the one I met when I went to New Hampshire for Finley’s wedding?”

  “The one with the giant d—“

  “Yes,” I cut her off. “That one. He’s coming here.”

  She hums her approval through the phone and then pauses. “Wait, you’re not calling in sick are you?”

  “No, I swear I’m not. But, I did want to see if there’s any wiggle room in the schedule for Gene to cover any of my shifts this week.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. When you get here we’ll look at the schedule together.”

  After we hang up, I grin down at my phone. Yolanda rocks so I knew she’d be cool with me taking some time off, and Gene’s saving up for a trip so he could use the extra cash.