My Perfect Fix (The Fix Book 4)

by Carey Heywood

  Lucy sets the cake back down and grabs the spoon. “Crap, crap, crap.”

  I cough and look away. “A beer would be great, thanks.”

  Rissa gives me an impish look before passing me a bottle. Avoiding her eyes, I glance at Lucy’s profile as I twist off the cap.

  She studies whatever is in the pot with unwavering focus.

  Our moment, short as it was, is gone.

  Returning my attention to Rissa, I figure it’d be rude to ask about her doctor appointment so, I ask, “Find any good deals today?”

  Her brows come together. “Huh?”

  Lifting my beer, I gesture between them. “Weren’t you two shopping today?”

  Lucy drops her spoon while Rissa’s eyes widen.

  Rissa recovers first. “Right. We were going to but the day got away from us so we ended up skipping it.”

  Before I can say anything else, she asks, “How was your day?”

  My gaze shifts back to Lucy’s profile. I don’t miss the tension in her posture as she continues to stir.

  “It was busy. I had some meetings in the morning and then helped out one of my crews.”

  Coming closer, Rissa grabs my arm and leads me toward Lucy’s new dining table. “Help me set this while you tell me all about what goes on in your meetings. I’ve never written a landscaper before. I might use you as character inspiration.”

  If her intention was to give Lucy space, she succeeded. What I don’t understand is why. Still, I go along with it and share what a typical client meeting covers.

  “The former owner of this house was one of my first clients.”

  For some reason, that makes Lucy look my way. “Really?”

  I nod. “She was a sweetheart and a lot of fun to work with. Since I was just starting my business, she would let me pitch different designs to her so I could practice my delivery.”

  Rissa snorts. “You needed coaching to talk to people? Come on, I don’t believe you.”

  I lift my hands. “It’s the truth. It’s not always easy to present your ideas to someone you don’t know.”

  With her hands planted on her hips, Rissa says, “Tell me about it.”

  Lucy moves the pot she was stirring to another burner. “What was the former owner like?”

  “She was a sweetheart, one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She loved this house and to watch all the birds that visited her backyard.”

  Lucy’s eyes widen. “There’s a couple birdhouses and a feeder in the backyard.”

  I’m not surprised her kids didn’t take them, after a New England winter or two there’s got to be some wear and tear on them. “If you load the feeders you’ll have a mess of birds come spring.”

  “Really?”

  She looks happy and excited and I’d be lying if I didn’t imagine her in my bed, staring up at me with the same expression.

  I clear my throat. “Yeah.”

  Rissa squints at me and I pray my thoughts aren’t written across my face.

  With her gaze still on me, she asks, “Lu, is dinner ready?”

  Lucy bobs her head. “It sure is.”

  Clapping her heads, Rissa directs me back to the table. “I hope you like sausage and potato soup.”

  I stand behind a chair. “They’re two of my favorite foods. Can I help serve?”

  She shakes her head. “No, sit, sit.”

  The space between the kitchen and dining area is open. As I settle myself into my chair, I watch as Lucy gracefully ladles the soup from the pot into a large turquoise blue serving bowl.

  When she centers it on a trivet I remember an earlier conversation. “I like the bowl, is it one of your local finds?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “You’ve got a good memory. Yes, I found a set of these at a secondhand store. One of the smaller bowls is chipped but I loved the color so got it anyway.”

  “What color are your dishes?” Rissa asks, after claiming the seat across from mine and steeple-ing her hands.

  Her question throws me off. “G-gray.”

  The questions don’t end there. “What made you go with gray?”

  Frowning, I think back. “My mom bought them as a housewarming present. I’ve had them for years.”

  She gives me a knowing look. “Are you a mama’s boy?”

  Lucy fumbles the ladle, almost spilling some soup. “Rissa, enough with the third degree already.”

  Rissa gestures toward me. “But it’s good character insight.”

  Lucy and I lock eyes. “I’m so sorry about her. If her questions are too much, just tell her to stop.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Rissa rubs her hands together. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

  Unfortunately, Lucy was passing me my bowl when Rissa asked this and bobbled it, causing soup to slosh over the side.

  She glares at the bowl, and then at Rissa. “Crap-it. Rissa.”

  Rissa meanwhile jumps up and dashes to the kitchen, returning quickly with a roll of paper towels. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  While she cleans the mess, I top off my bowl with more soup.

  I wait until I’m sitting again and we’re all safely served to reply. “I was sixteen.”

  Rissa covers her mouth as she replies around her bite. “Really?”

  It’s Lucy’s reaction that I’m after. She doesn’t seem surprised.

  Rissa drops her hand. “I kinda figured you would have lost it sooner.”

  “Oh, I had opportunities.”

  “I’ll bet you did,” Rissa replies as Lucy studies me.

  “If you had opportunities, why did you wait?” Lucy asks.

  Rissa shifts her gaze from me and smiles to herself.

  I press my napkin to my mouth before I reply, “I waited until I was with someone I loved.”

  Rissa clasps her hands together. “How sweet. Young love. What happened?”

  It’s been years since I’ve thought about Allison.

  “She decided she didn’t want to be tied down to me when she went to college.”

  Rissa gasps, her hand pressed to her chest. “You got dumped?”

  I cringe. “Yeah.”

  Her hand flies out, nearly knocking over her drink. She raises and lowers it a few times in my direction. “You. You’re the one who got dumped?”

  Her disbelief is evident. I glance in Lucy’s direction and find her lips parted.

  “Yes, I’m the one who got dumped.”

  Rissa’s eyes narrow. “Did she have any other sort of reason to break up with you? Were you a shitty boyfriend?”

  I shake my head. “Not that I know of. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. She didn’t.”

  “Is your broken heart the reason you haven’t been able to commit to any one woman since then?”

  “Rissa, stop being so nosy.”

  Between my family and friends, it’s not the first time someone has asked me that. “It’s alright. No, a high school breakup isn’t the reason I haven’t had a serious girlfriend since then. I’ve dated but haven’t met someone I’m ready to commit in that way to.”

  Rissa nods, and then asks, “Have you tried?”

  It’s involuntary, the shift of my gaze to Lucy. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I was trying right now.

  “I’ve been with women who sparked my curiosity but for whatever reason I haven’t dated a woman who has made me want more.”

  “Maybe you have crap taste in woman.”

  “No need to insult him.” Lucy meets my gaze. “You seriously don’t have to answer all of her questions.”

  After a shrug, I take another bite. “I don’t mind.”

  She shakes her head, but does it smiling. “Don’t encourage her.”

  Rissa rubs her hands together. “Just you wait. I’m going to write the best guy yet after all of this and you’ll have to narrate it.”

  Lucy laughs. “Are you trying to threaten me with work? By all means, bring it.”

  Now might
be a good time to get Rissa’s attention off my love history. “Is your studio setup working out okay?”

  Lucy grins. “It’s amazing. I wasn’t at my grandpa’s long, but man I forgot how convenient it is to roll out of bed and be able to get right to work.”

  “She let me listen in this morning,” Rissa replies.

  “Could I listen in sometime?”

  Her cheeks redden, a softer blush creeping down her neck. It’s impossible to look away.

  “It’s boring.”

  Rissa shakes her head. “If it were boring, you wouldn’t have a six-month waitlist.”

  My eyes widen. I know little about the world of book narrating but from what Rissa said, it sounds as though Lucy is not only successful, but in demand.

  Lucy gathers our empty bowls. “Fine. You can listen to me narrate.”

  It’s not much, but it’s an invitation into her life.

  Standing, I reach for her empty glass. “I’ll help you clean up.”

  She steps away from the table, putting more space between us. “No, no. You don’t have to. You’re the guest.”

  Ignoring her, I move closer. “If you ever meet my mom, you’ll know why not helping isn’t an option.”

  Rissa follows us to the kitchen and sits on the counter while Lucy rinses, and I load the dishwasher.

  “Lucy mentioned you have a big family. What are they like?”

  They were talking about me. I’ll take that as a positive sign.

  “I’m the youngest of five.”

  Rissa lifts her hand. “Five? Your poor parents.”

  I laugh.

  Lucy turns off the water. “Your mom had four. Is one more that big of a deal?”

  Rissa bobs her head. “I know how bad four were. I can only imagine five being worse.”

  “We drove our parents and Abby crazy.”

  Rissa’s mouth drops open. “Four boys. Were you little hellions?”

  I grin, remembering all of the trouble my siblings and I got into growing up. “Don’t assume because she was a girl that Abby wasn’t the biggest instigator. She never got in trouble though, always playing the perfect little angel.”

  Rissa folds her arms over her chest. “My little sister used to blame stuff on me all the time.”

  “Abby dressed me up like a girl.”

  They both stare at me, then Rissa asks, “Did she take any pictures?”

  After closing the dishwasher, I lean against it before answering them. “All photographic evidence has been destroyed.”

  Their forlorn expressions make me laugh. “Ready for dessert?”

  That cheers them up.

  Rissa hops off of the counter. “I’ll grab dessert plates.”

  “Should I make coffee?” Lucy asks. “I have decaf.”

  I nod, while Rissa says, “Coffee would be perfect.”

  Following Rissa with utensils and napkins, we reset the table.

  She moves closer to me before quickly glancing over her shoulder. Then, in a hushed tone, she asks, “You like Lucy, right?”

  “Yes.”

  She grins, face splitting, full-on grins. “I thought so. She needs a good man so if you screw her over I will hunt you down and come up with very creative ways to end you.”

  Ignoring her threat, I ask, “Do you think I have a chance?”

  “She’s stubborn and not ready to admit it but, yes.”

  I can be patient. “Good to know.”

  The rattle of a tray warns us of Lucy’s approach.

  Stepping into her path, I take the tray and carry it the rest of the way.

  “I could have carried it.”

  Careful not to spill any of the coffee, I set the tray on the table. “I know.”

  Rissa glances between us. “I’ll get the cake.”

  Lucy reaches for the back of her chair but I beat her to it and pull it out for her. “Here, let me.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  I shrug but don’t let go.

  She sighs, before slipping into her seat and doesn’t argue when I push her chair in.

  Growing up, I learned romance was more than grand gestures. It was the million little things my dad would do to show my mom he cared. It’s how I’m going to win Lucy over.

  Rissa returns, cake neatly arranged on a serving plate.

  She inhales before setting it down. “This smells divine.”

  I wait for each of them to choose a slice before serving myself.

  Watching the way Lucy savors each and every bite is the highlight of my evening.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

  Rissa’s earlier curiosity was clearly not satisfied.

  Leaning back in my chair, I set down my mug. “Big family dinner at my parents’ place.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Do you always get together there?”

  I shake my head. “Last year it was at Asher and Paige’s house.”

  “Thanksgiving overlooking a lake. That sounds gorgeous.”

  “It was,” I reply. Lifting my gaze to Lucy’s, I ask, “Are you staying in town?”

  She nods. “My parents are flying in.”

  “Will you eat here, or at your grandfather’s?”

  Rissa raises her hand. “I vote here.”

  Lucy gives her a knowing look. “Of course you do. You can eat and drink all you want and crawl to the guest room when you’re done.”

  “You’re staying for Thanksgiving?”

  Rissa nods. “Lu invited me to extend my trip.”

  I’m ashamed to admit I’m disappointed. As much as I like her friend, Lucy seems to use her as an excuse to keep her distance from me.

  Lucy reaches her hand out to rest it on top of Rissa’s. “I wish I could talk her into staying even longer.”

  Rissa puckers her lips and air kisses Lucy. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

  Lucy pouts, but nods. “As long as you come back soon.”

  “Try and keep me away.”

  Their exchange makes me think of my earlier conversation with Rissa. Her encouragement suddenly carries even more weight now. As close as they are, there’s no way she would push me toward Lucy if she didn’t think I was worthy of her and if she didn’t think Lucy was interested in me.

  “You two remind me of Abby and her best friend Sam. Did you ever get to meet her?” I ask Lucy.

  She shakes her head.

  “Sam is also a real estate agent. They work in the same office. Give it time, you’ll meet her at one of Abby’s parties.”

  Sam helped bring Abby and her fiancé Spencer together. Here’s hoping Rissa can do the same for Lucy and me.

  12

  Lucy

  November 29th

  Thanksgiving was stressful with having to tell my parents about the baby. I’m not sure what I would have done without Rissa to help calm my dad down. If he was a couple of decades younger, I’m pretty sure he’d challenge Derek to a duel or something. A second helping of pecan pie and many reminders that stress isn’t good for the baby are what finally calmed him down. Now, Rissa is on a plane home and I have a fridge full of leftovers.

  Stretching my arms over my head, I lean to one side, and then the next. I may have splurged on a desk chair with all the back support options possible, but if I’m in it long enough, I still get stiff. After this recording session, I’ll take a hot shower to soothe my aching muscles.

  The doorbell rings and I want to smack myself when I remember Gideon said he was stopping by. Pushing back from my desk, I beeline it to my bedroom to pull on a sweater and pair of boots.

  Then I make my way to the front door and open it. “Hi Gideon.”

  He steps inside and watches as I shrug on my coat and reach for my purse. “Were you leaving?”

  I skirt him so that I’m now in the doorway. “Yep, got to dash. Just lock up after yourself once you’re done.”

  I pull the door closed behind me and don’t look back at the house until I’m in my car.

  C
rap, where can I go kill a few hours?

  December 5th

  I’m bringing a trash bag out to the bin when Gideon’s truck parks in front of my house.

  Geez, he’s already back?

  Hefting the bag into the bin, I decide today would be a perfect day to surprise grandpa with a visit. Doing my best to appear casual, I stroll back to my front door and wait for Gideon on the porch.

  “Hi Gideon. What are you working on today?”

  He holds up a bucket. “I’m going to patch the cracks in the spare bedroom.”

  We walk in together but he doesn’t notice when I stop.

  He’s halfway into my living room when he looks back at me.

  Pulling on my coat, purse in hand, I wave bye. “I was on my way out. See you later.”

  His eyes widen and he starts toward me but I shut the door and hurry to my car.

  December 12th

  When I hear the bell ring, I rush to the front window and peek through the blinds.

  “Again?” I ask myself when I see Gideon’s truck.

  Just my luck, what on earth could he be fixing now?

  Frozen, I’m torn between going to my bathroom to wash off the mud mask I just applied, or answering the front door.

  The bell rings again.

  Gideon Thompson has the worst timing ever.

  I race to the kitchen sink and start washing my face. He might question why it took me so long to answer the door but, at least I can make my escape then. There’s no way he’d believe I’d run errands with a face mask on.

  With no mirror to check if I got all of it, I use a paper towel to dry my face.

  “Are you okay?” Gideon asks when I open the door.

  I nod. “Sorry, I was editing a scene.”

  He cringes. “Did the bell ringing mess with what you were working on?”

  I’m surprised he’d even consider it could. “No, I was cutting a part I messed up.”

  The stress line across his forehead fades. “Good.”

  “Come on in. I have to run a couple of errands so you’ll have the place to yourself while you work.”

  He thankfully doesn’t say a word or try and stop me as I leave.

  December 20th

  “Are you showing yet?”

  Phone to my ear, I turn and check out my profile in my full-length mirror. “A little bit, but it’s winter so I’m living in baggy sweaters right now.”