Miss Fix-It

by Hart, Emma

  He input his name and number, then slid the phone back to me.

  Well. That was the easiest I’d ever gotten a hot guy’s number.

  “When do you think you can start?”

  “Monday,” I replied, finishing my coffee. “I’ll need to come by a couple times this week to take some measurements for the bigger things and drop off some brochures for you. I’ll call ahead to let you know, but I’ll be here at eight-thirty on Monday morning to start tearing out that wall paper and flooring. Is that good for you?”

  “That works. Can the kids go in their own rooms now the mold is gone?”

  I stood, tucking my phone in my pocket. “Wipe the walls every day and leave the window open so it can dry out. If you do that, I don’t see why not.”

  “Perfect. I need some peace back. Talking of peace…” He got up and darted into the front room.

  I hovered awkwardly before I grew the courage to peek inside the room.

  “Oh my god.” Brantley covered his face with his hands. “Where did you find the pens?”

  “Ewi did it,” Ellie said.

  “No! Ewwie did it!” her brother replied.

  I edged a little further inside. On the lovely, cream wall of the living room was a dodgy looking fairy with one wing, all drawn in pink. Next to her was a strange dinosaur with purple spots that were half-colored.

  As if he knew I was there, Brantley dropped his hand, blinked, and looked at me. “Can we add the living room to painting?”

  He looked so helpless, so…exhausted…yet also like he was trying not to laugh at their artistic streak, that it took everything I had not to laugh, too.

  “Good thing I have a lot of dust sheets.”

  Chapter Three

  “So.” Jayda leaned back on my bed and wriggled her toes in her stripy socks. My best friend had skipped out early on a bad date, promptly deciding to show up at my house with wine, ice-cream, and candy. “How about you tell me about your last date?”

  “Nuh-uh.” I pulled a Twizzler from the packet and bit off the end. “You know about my last horror date. You’re the one who ran away tonight, and if you showed up with all this, it must have been bad.”

  “Aside from the fact I know better than to show up at your house without Twizzlers—”

  “True story.”

  “—You’re right. It was terrible. Probably the worst one ever, actually.”

  I turned my head away from the Friends re-run and stared at her profile. She was the blond to my brunette, and I had no idea how she was single with her cute button nose, full lips, and large, blue eyes.

  “Worse than Johnny Knox?”

  She groaned, leaning her head right back against the headboard and reached for her wine glass. Instead of the glass, she grabbed the bottle. I smirked when she took one look at it, shrugged, and swigged straight from it.

  “Wow.” Wow was the right reaction here. If it was worse than Johnny Knox, Mr. Handsy himself who tried to get her off right there in the middle of the restaurant, it was bad.

  “It was a string of bullshit, Kali. First up, he shows off late.”

  Been there.

  “Then, he didn’t look anything like his picture. Claimed the only different was the fact he didn’t have a beard or dark hair anymore.” She waved the bottle and put it down, switching it for the glass before changing her mind again. “Fine, whatever. He was still cute. I sucked up the fact I’d spent thirty minutes getting sympathetic looks because everyone thought I was being stood up. You know what? I wish I had been!”

  Oh, boy.

  “So, he finally sits down. We order two drinks and our meals. He refuses to get starters or a dessert because of the price, and that’s the first hint he’s a total fuckboy.”

  I “hmmed” in agreement.

  “He doesn’t ask what I do or how I am. He doesn’t even apologize for being late. Instead he launched into a monologue about how stressed he is at work and how lonely he is since his pet rabbit, Cheeto, died.”

  “He named a rabbit Cheeto?”

  She held up a pink-tipped finger. “Not to mention his budgies, Ben and Jerry, are fighting colds.”

  “Budgies get colds?”

  “Apparently. So, he’s heartbroken over Cheeto, Ben and Jerry are sick, and honestly, I wanted to ask him if he had an ant farm collectively named the Sour Patch Kids or something equally ridiculous.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “You missed a trick there.”

  “We’re not all unfiltered like you.”

  “I’m not unfiltered.” I paused. “I’m…quick-witted.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me, setting the wine bottle down—and leaving it there instead of picking it back up like she did before. “Sure. Quick-witted. That’s one way to describe it.”

  “Why did I let you in?”

  Jayda waved the Twizzler packet at me.

  “Shut up,” I muttered, snatching it off her. “Tell me the rest of the date.”

  “Where did I get to? Oh, yeah—the sick budgies.” She wedged the tub of ice-cream onto her lap and wriggled. “So, I apologized, but before I could ask him anything, he dove into a spiel about how his mother never loved him.”

  Oh dear god.

  “What did you do?”

  “I downed my wine and excused myself to the bathroom. Marcie sent the new bar girl in to tell me to run on her signal.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Marcie corralled him toward the bar with the promise of a free drink, because she’d heard his sad tale, and needed a new whiskey tried out.”

  “Did it work?”

  Jayda nodded. “I left to the sounds of him regaling Marcie with a tale about how his mother kicked his first cat, Noodles.”

  “I don’t know if the bigger concern is his obsession with animals or his mother or the way he names them.”

  “The names. No grown-ass man should ever admit to having a cat named Noodles unless his sister named it.” She sighed. “I think I’m destined to be single forever.”

  “No, you’re just looking in the wrong places. I’m starting to figure out that online doesn’t mean success.”

  “Starting?”

  “Want me to make you feel better about your life?”

  She nodded. “That’s always helpful.”

  Sighing, I got up out of bed and went to fetch my laptop from downstairs. When I had it, I went back up and sat on the bed, loading it up. “I checked my messages before I went to work this morning. Some of them were so bad… And not even just bad, but some of them were the grossest things ever.”

  “Well, I haven’t had those this week. I guess that’s a plus.”

  “No kidding. Okay, here.” I logged in to the dating website and went to my message box. “Look at this guy. “Kinky sub for you to keep in chastity and make your little bitch.” And if it wasn’t enough, check the pictures.”

  I clicked on one and looked away.

  “Oh god, my eyes! They burn! Get it off!”

  I winced at the…portly…gentleman wearing nothing but leather straps and a collar on his knees and hit the ‘x’ button on the pop-up.

  “I have two questions,” Jayda said, peering at the screen from between her fingers. “The first one is, why do you get those and I don’t?”

  “Do you want them?”

  “Shit—please, no.” She snorted. “My next question is, why do they keep coming to you? What’s in your profile that isn’t in mine?”

  “Dunno. Do you think it’s the builder thing?”

  “Maybe. Mr. Kinky Sub sound like he wouldn’t mind you screwing him into a wall.”

  I stilled.

  Turning to slowly meet her eyes, the twinkle in them killed me within seconds. We both burst out laughing, and I reached for my now-empty wine glass.

  “Damn it.”

  Jayda waved the bottle. “I’ll pour it if you tell me about the new guy in town.”

  “Brantley Cooper?”

&n
bsp; “Is he the twins guy?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Jesus,” she muttered. “Even his damn name is hot.”

  I snatched the wine out of her hand. “You should see his ass.”

  “Do you need, uh, an assistant next week?”

  “His kids were fighting when I got there, then drew on the walls right before I left.”

  Jayda wrinkled her nose up. “Hmmm. Let me know on the assistant thing. I mean, I might be busy.”

  Imagine that.

  Chapter Four

  After a week of running back and forth between my booked jobs and taking measurements at Brantley’s, I was more than ready to get to work on Ellie’s room today.

  I’d worked out a full game plan with my dad at Friday dinner and seen his plans for the beds. He’d been thrilled to work on some stuff for little kids, and had promptly reminded me that he’d been married to my mother at my age.

  My stepmom had then reassured me—out of earshot—that there were way more fuckboys in my generation and not to worry about it, but babies would be nice soon enough.

  So, with the little nugget of information that my parents wanted me to house a human being in my uterus pretty soon, I got into my truck and headed toward the Cooper house.

  I was armed with all the things I needed to soak off wallpaper. Not only was eight-twenty practically the middle of a night on a Monday—and certainly not a time my brain was able to function past “coffee”—but removing wallpaper was the worst. Tedious, messy, and time-consuming, I hated it.

  Nobody tell my dad.

  Still, I was ready. At the very least, the monotonous scraping against the wall would hopefully do the same thing to my brain. Scrape away the dreadful and slightly painful messages I’d been receiving.

  Oh, that’s right.

  Mr. Kinky Sub as Jayda had named him wasn’t in fact the worst.

  Nope, that was Mr. Hammer, who messaged me a very slick, “You’re a builder. I’m a builder. Wanna hammer a hole the wall together?”

  And to think—I’d almost been excited about the acknowledgment that I was, in fact, a builder, and not a secretary.

  I should have known it would be too good to be true.

  I took a deep breath as I pulled into the empty driveway of the Cooper’s house. It didn’t look as if anyone was here, and that had been par the course for the past week. We’d collided once, briefly, and that hadn’t even been at the house. I’d been using the spare key under the pot of flowers next to the door all week.

  I hated that. I always felt like someone was watching me pick it up and put it back.

  This morning was no different.

  I hopped out of the truck and checked my phone. I’d barely glanced up from it when I saw Mr. Ackerman walking his elderly Doberman, Dixie.

  “Good morning, Kali,” he said in his throaty, shaky voice. “Working for our nice, young neighbor?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Ackerman.” I smiled. “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Good, good. Lovely young man. Cute kids, too. He’d be good for you.”

  Ahh, there it was. “That would be completely unprofessional of me.”

  “Only when you’re working for him.” He cackled, winked, and tipped his ever-present tweed cap at me. “Have a good day, Kali.”

  “You, too, Mr. Ackerman.” I smiled as he walked past the car, a whistle filling the air. When he’d gone far enough that he couldn’t see me and nobody else was around, I bent down and retrieved the little, silver key from beneath the almost-empty flowerpot.

  It clicked in the door, and when I pushed it open, I dropped the key in the blue dish on the side table and headed back for my things. Since I knew it would take me the best part of the day to strip off the walls and figure out the state of them beneath that paper, I’d only brought that stuff with me.

  I dragged the box inside, shut the door, and headed upstairs. I was used to the house being quiet—a Barbie doll on the stairs? Not so much.

  “Fucker!” I snapped, hissing as the sharp feel of the doll’s nose dug into the ball of my foot.

  You know what? Everyone always said about Lego being hell to step on—they never said a damn word about Barbie’s face.

  I wonder how she felt whenever Ken wanted her on his face.

  Ouch.

  I gently nudged the bitch doll to the side and finished my journey up the stairs and into Ellie’s room.

  Making sure there were no offending Barbies on the floor in here, I put my bag down, and got to work.

  ***

  “But I wanna jooooosh!”

  I startled, turning toward the door.

  “Get inside, please,” Brantley’s voice echoed up the stairs.

  “I. Wanna. Joosh!”

  “Elijah Cooper, get inside right this second.”

  “No!”

  Wide-eyed, I scraped a piece of wallpaper off.

  “Fine, then you can stand outside on the front steps and everyone will see how silly you are.”

  The door shut.

  My jaw dropped and I looked Ellie’s bedroom door.

  Did he just shut him outside?

  Banging against something downstairs confirmed that to be true.

  “Dad! Daddy! Daddy, pwease let me in!” Eli’s voice grew thicker. “Daddy!”

  The door opened. “Are you going to come in nicely now?”

  I didn’t hear his response, but I heard Brantley say, a lot quieter, “Now, ask nicely for a juice and I’ll get you on.”

  I heard nothing more, so I went back to scraping the paper off the wall.

  “Is that Kawi’s car outside?” Ellie’s little voice asked.

  “Yes.” The sound of cupboards opening and closing accompanied Brantley’s voice. “She’s in your room right now.”

  She gasped. “Can I go say hi?”

  Hesitation, and then, “No, let her work.”

  “I wanna say hiiiiii.”

  “I want to put the groceries away, but sometimes it sucks, okay? I’m sure she’ll come down and say hi soon.”

  “I wanna say hi now.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Ugh—I didn’t like kids. I never had, even when I was a kid. But here I was, contemplating going down there right now, because her little, lispy voice was making me want to.

  “Ellie…”

  I put down my scraper on the windowsill and turned to go downstairs. Honestly, I needed some water anyway, so it killed two birds with one stone.

  “Daddy…”

  “Hey,” I said, stepping slowly into the kitchen. “Do you mind if I get some water?”

  Brantley turned to look at me. Relief flitted across his face, mixed with the hint of happiness. “Hi—of course. There are some bottles in the fridge. Did we disturb you?”

  “Not at all,” I half-lied. “Thanks.” I grabbed a bottle and looked at Ellie, smiling. “Hey, Ellie. Hey, Eli.”

  Eli’s eyes widened. “Hi.” He looked away, at the floor.

  “Hi, Kawi!” Ellie bounced on the balls of her feet. “Are you doing my bedwoom?”

  “I’m pulling all the horrible paper off the walls.” I uncapped the water. “Do you wanna come see?”

  Eli narrowed his eyes and answered before she could. “Did you do my woom?”

  “Not yet. One room at a time.”

  “Why you do Ewwie’s first?”

  “Eenie meenie miny mo,” I answered, keeping my expression straight. “Next time, I’ll do yours first, okay?”

  He side-eyed me, putting the straw of his juicebox in his mouth and sucking on the apple juice instead of answering me.

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “He’s so gwumpy. Can I see my woom?”

  Their inability to say ‘r’ correctly was nothing less than completely adorable.

  Just like the dimple that indented her right cheek when she grinned hopefully at me.

  I glanced at Brantley.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “As long as it’s not dangerous.”

  “Nothing can be more
dangerous than my shock when I stomped on Barbie’s face this morning.”

  “Welcome to my life.” He smirked, his turquoise eyes glinting enticingly.

  Lord, I hoped it wasn’t.

  “Come on, Ellie.” I motioned for her to follow me. “Just look, okay? Don’t touch.”

  “Okay, Kawi. No touching.”

  “That’s right.” I fought the smile as her tiny stomps followed me up the stairs. “See? It’s not great. Just the paper from the walls.”

  She sighed heavily. “I fort you might be done.”

  I laughed. “No, not yet. It’s going to take a couple of weeks.”

  “How many sweeps is that?”

  “Sweeps?”

  “Yeah. Sweeps.” She put her hands together between her shoulder and head and fake-snored.

  “Ahhh. Sleeps.” I nodded, picking my scraper up in my right hand and my sponge from my bucket in the left. I squeezed. “I’m not sure. Sometimes it doesn’t go right so it takes a bit longer. Can I tell you when I’m nearly done?”

  She blinked at me. “’Kay, but not too wong, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you doing my woom first?”

  “I’m doing both yours and Eli’s at the same time.”

  She wrinkled up her face, causing her nose to crinkle in the most adorable way. “I want mine first.”

  I pressed my sponge against the wall and put it back in the bucket before I scraped the paper. “Sorry, Ellie. It’s fair if I do them at the same time. Besides, I need to let your walls dry before I can get them ready to paint. It’s a lot of work, so it’s easier if I share it.”

  She sniffed. “What are you doing wight now?”

  “Getting rid of this old paper. See?” I pulled the scraper away and took the edge of the damp paper between my fingers. I pulled it down, tearing it away from the wall and dumping it onto the floor.

  “Wow,” she whispered. “Can I had a go?”

  The way she spoke killed me. “At pulling the paper?”

  “All of it.”

  I shook my head. “The scraper is sharp. Come see.” I bent to one knee and held it up. “Much too sharp for little girls. Why don’t you have a go with the sponge, I’ll scrape, then I’ll let you rip some paper off?”