by Meg Harding
Fixer-Upper
By Meg Harding
Ex-business owner and soon to be ex-husband Jake has had some rotten luck of late. His world is tumbling down around him, but it’s time to dust himself off and move on. Buying and fixing up the most dilapidated home he can find might be just the thing to get him back on track.
But Jake gets more than he bargained for when he meets former lawyer turned landscaper Dakota. Dakota is smart and ridiculously sexy—and Jake doesn’t have a clue how to act around him. After several gardening mishaps, Jake is sure Dakota thinks he’s completely inept.
Turns out Dakota is thinking something else entirely. And as Dakota gives Jake advice, an ear to listen, and helps him work through his issues, Jake realizes flowers aren’t the only thing blooming between them.
Chapter One
THE CAR stopped in front of a house that looked like it was five seconds from collapsing. It was hideous. The paint was faded and peeling, and whole sections of it were missing or badly discolored. It smudged with dirt and grime, and Jake wasn’t sure what the original color had been. There was a large hole in the roof, and the rest of it appeared to be missing the majority of its shingles. The eaves were dangling from their positions, and one front window was missing, while the other two bore cracks, and one had a baseball-sized hole in the center. The lawn hadn’t been mowed in what looked like years. What little grass there was extended to waist height, while the rest of the yard was a barren land of dead grass and sand.
“It didn’t look like this in the pictures,” said Matt, his best friend and Realtor, as they stared at the house from the car. “We can just go to the next one.”
“No,” said Jake, already opening his car door. “We’re here, let’s see it.”
“Are you serious?” asked Matt incredulously. He followed Jake up the driveway. “This place is a disaster.”
“Maybe the inside is nicer.”
“Are you drunk? High?”
Jake shook his head, snorting. “No.” He knew it was laughable, and likely the inside would be as ugly as the outside, but for some unfathomable reason, he wanted to see it for himself.
Matt let them in, with a quip about how they might need masks lest they end up poisoned. Jake ignored him.
The inside was as wrecked as the outside.
The walls had holes the size of his head; he could see the wooden support beams peeking through. The paint was peeling, and there were little bits of plaster scattered across the floor. He walked farther into the house, into the living area. The walls were even worse in there, with whole sections missing. There was a staircase leading up to the second floor, the banister was missing on the right middle side, and a little further up it was dangling precariously over open air.
He wondered if he’d fall straight through the stairs if he tried to go up them.
Wandering from the living room, he checked out the downstairs bedrooms and bath. The doors were either missing or hanging off their hinges. The floor was cracked tile and splotchy ripped carpet.
The kitchen was missing all of its appliances and cabinets—at first Jake thought it was a second bedroom that had been gutted. It was large, with wide, cracked windows and enough space for a counter and a table.
“Can we go upstairs?” asked Jake.
Matt glanced at the stairs dubiously. “You can go up them,” he said.
Jake went up them, carefully putting one foot down to test each step. He made it to the second floor. The windows on the second floor hadn’t fared any better than those on the first, and he found that the back-facing windows were almost all missing. Water stains ran down the walls, mold crawling over the ceiling. It wasn’t in any better condition than the first floor.
He stared out at the backyard, which resembled the front yard except for the trees that surrounded it, serving as a makeshift fence. The lot behind the house was nothing but trees, it looked like. He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring out at it, when he heard Matt’s voice calling his name.
He tore his gaze away from the barren mess and headed back downstairs.
“Ready to go to the next one?” asked Matt. He jumped, his face twisting up with disgust, as a rat disappeared into a hole in the wall. He was walking for the door before Jake even had a chance to answer.
Jake followed him, putting a hand on his elbow once they were outside.
“I’ll take it,” said Jake, thinking of the ugly inside and staring up at the ugly outside. Truly, the house was a disaster.
“Are you…. Really?” asked Matt, turning to him in shock. “You want this house?”
“Yeah,” said Jake. “I want this house.” He trailed his fingers along the wall. They came away black with dirt and who knew what else. “It’s perfect.”
He didn’t bother asking if anyone else had put a bid in; he knew they hadn’t. No one else would want this beat-up old thing. Much like his life at the moment, this house was a wreck. Absolutely trashed and in need of fixing up. It called to Jake, spoke to him in ways none of the other pristinely put-together houses he’d already seen had.
He was going to pour everything he had into making this house a home and maybe, just maybe, at the end of it all he’d feel a little less beaten down.
BEEP. BEEP. Beep.
It wouldn’t stop. Groaning, Jake rolled over and flailed his hand around, trying to silence the infernal beeping. The alarm clock went flying from the nightstand, crashing down to the floor. Jake rocketed up in bed, the noise of the alarm clock shattering into several pieces enough to wake him fully.
The bedroom door banged against the wall as it was flung open. “What in the hell are you doing in here?” demanded Matt, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying to glare at Jake at the same time.
“Sorry.” He glanced over at the mess. “I’ll buy you a new one.” Matt stared at him in silence for a minute and then walked away, leaving the door wide open. “Are you gonna make coffee?” Jake called after him.
All he got in answer was a grunt.
He stumbled up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom, flicking on the lights. He squinted, staring at his raging bedhead in the mirror. The messy black strands were standing in every direction. Splashing water on his face, he forced himself to work through his morning routine.
Today was the day. The disaster of a house was finally his, and the workers would all arrive within the hour to begin repairs and construction. He was going to be there for the whole thing. It was time he stopped moping, time he had a purpose again.
“Someone’s looking chipper,” said Matt, pushing a coffee mug into Jake’s hands as he came into the kitchen.
“I feel chipper,” answered Jake, sighing in pure relief as he took a sip of the strong coffee. “I haven’t looked forward to anything this much for ages. Just think, you’ll have your spare room all to yourself soon.”
“I don’t mind you staying here. You could stay as long as you like.”
Jake shook his head. He was too old to be bunking with a buddy because he couldn’t pull his life together. “I appreciate the sentiment,” he said, bussing a kiss on Matt’s cheek. “Come by the house later if you want.”
Matt sighed, but he let it go, and for that Jake was grateful.
He finished his coffee quickly and left the house soon after. He wanted to be there to greet the crews as they arrived, wanted to meet the people who were going to create his new home. There was a very specific image he had in his mind for what he wanted, and he was going to be damned if it didn’t look just like it. If he could control nothing else, he could control this.
There was a truck already parked out front when he got there, the back of it loaded down with equipment. He parked, and as he stepped from the car, a short blond man rounded the corner.
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“Hello,” called the man, striding quickly over. “I’m Jasper, your landscaper. I’ve just been checking the place out.” He shook Jake’s hand. He had a steady grip. “Quite the fixer-upper you’ve got here. My partner and I will really have some fun with this.”
“Your partner?” asked Jake, looking behind Jasper.
“He should be getting here any minute now. He’s bringing the trailer.”
“Oh,” said Jake, and then, remembering his manners, said, “I’m Jake. Nice to meet you.”
Jasper smiled at him, revealing a crooked incisor. “Nice to meet you too.”
A truck pulled up, and another after that, and still another. Jasper walked off, and Jake turned to greet the construction crew as they piled out of their trucks. There were so many of them, and Jake knew he’d have a time of keeping their names down.
The head of the crew was a tall man named Lincoln, who had a thick beard and not one strand of hair on the top of his head. Lincoln had Jake walk him through the house and explain in detail what he wanted done. He looked at him like he was a bit insane, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded and asked questions when he had them.
“Who’s your carpenter?” Lincoln asked at the end of the tour.
Jake blinked. “I haven’t got one yet. I was going to wait till you were done.”
Lincoln shook his head, pulling out a pad and pen from his back pocket and starting to scribble. “Get someone now. Walk them through and explain what you want. It’ll take time to build the stuff, but most of it will be ready by the time we’re done. More efficient that way.” He ripped the first page off the pad and handed it over. “Here’s a number for a guy I know. God’s gift to man when it comes to woodworking. Give him a call.”
The handwriting on the paper was almost illegible, but Jake nodded. “I will.” He’d look him up when he went home.
“I’d get the roofers in right away as well, if you haven’t already got them.”
Jake pocketed the number. “The roofers are starting tomorrow.” They’d had to finish up another job first.
“You really picked a wreck,” noted Lincoln as they walked out into the front yard.
“I know.” A wreck it may have been, but the inspectors hadn’t said it needed to be torn down. Jake had been unable to contain the small surge of pride when they’d declared it to be of sound build.
The painters came over, and Lincoln walked off. Jake took them over the outside of the house and briefly talked about some of his ideas for the inside—which would have to be done once everything else was finished.
“I’ve got someone coming to fix the eaves and whatnot later this week. Will you be good to start with them like this?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” answered Josh, the head painter.
“Perfect,” said Jake. “If you need an extra hand, I’d be more than happy to help with the painting.”
Josh side-eyed him. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”
Jake watched him walk away with the feeling he wasn’t going to be asked to aid in the painting at any point in time. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he surveyed the crumbling house and the overgrown yard, all the people milling about preparing themselves for work.
He needed to be doing something. It was an ache in his bones, an itching in his skin. His gaze drifted, searching… searching…. There. Two riding mowers sat side by side on the sidewalk. He could do that. He was perfectly capable of mowing the lawn. With a quick stride, he made his way over to the mowers. He didn’t know where Jasper had gotten to, but he figured he’d be back eventually.
He’d never actually mown a lawn before, but he didn’t think it could be that hard. Circling the mowers, he examined them with a close eye.
“Can I help you?” asked a deep, husky voice.
Jake’s head jerked up, and he took a startled step back. The man standing on the other side of the lawn mower was tall and lean, with nut-brown skin and the silkiest-looking long black hair Jake had ever seen pulled back in a ponytail. His eyelashes were lush, framing eyes so brown they were nearly black, and his cheekbones were high and prominent. He stared. It looked like the guy had been sculpted from marble.
“Uh,” Jake said eloquently. He blinked a couple times, wiping his hand over his face. “I’m Jake.” He pointed at the house. “That’s mine.”
One fine black eyebrow shot up, but he walked around the lawn mower and extended a hand. “I’m Dakota, your landscaper. Nice to meet you.” He smiled, revealing straight white teeth.
Jake shook it, grimacing when he realized his hand was clammy and he’d forgotten to swipe it along his pants first. Dakota’s hand was dry, and he could feel the calluses on his palm. “Jasper’s partner? Nice to meet you too.”
“Yep, that’s me.” He let go of Jake’s hand, shifted back on his heels. “You never answered my question.”
“I… uh…. What was the question?”
“Can I help you? I’m guessing there’s a reason you were examining the mower.”
“Right.” He looked away to try and focus himself. “Yeah. I was wondering if I could mow?”
It was Dakota’s turn to look thunderstruck. “You hired landscapers, but you want to mow?”
Jake nodded. “I want to help.”
“Dakota!” Dakota turned, revealing Jake to Jasper as he approached. “Oh,” said Jasper. “I see you’ve met the homeowner.”
“Yes,” drawled Dakota. “He was just telling me how he wants to mow.”
Jasper looked at Jake incredulously. “You want to mow?”
Jake fidgeted. “I do.”
“You know you’re paying us to do that,” pointed out Jasper.
He felt like throwing his hands in the air in frustration. He shifted from foot to foot, shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s not like you won’t have work to do.”
Jasper looked to Dakota, who shrugged. Jasper shrugged back, and Dakota turned to Jake. “You can mow the back. Jasper will help you, there’s some leaves back there and stuff that needs to be picked up first. We’re going to rip it all out and lay down some new grass, but it’s easier to clean this up a bit first.”
“All right,” agreed Jake, beyond glad to have something to do. Both of the men gave him strange looks, but they moved to the truck to grab equipment.
“You can go ahead and get it started,” said Jasper. “Just ride it back there.”
Jake clambered onto the mower, settling himself in the seat. He looked at the wheel, bent a bit to see beside it. Did he need a key for this thing?
“Have you ever used one of these before?” asked Dakota.
“Of course,” said Jake. “Just not this particular type.”
“Uh-huh.” He reached across him and did something that started the mower. It rumbled to life beneath Jake. “You want to drive it slowly, in even lines, over the grass. Avoid any objects you see or piles of leaves. That just causes an unnecessary mess. Jasper will be right back.”
“Got it,” he said, pressing the stick poking out next to him forward.
The mower moved forward with a lurch before settling into a slow roll across the grass. Behind him he heard Dakota say, “Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t break it.”
His stomach twisted itself into knots, and he kept his gaze trained on the grass in front of him, hands firmly on the wheel of the mower. He could mow the grass; he wasn’t incompetent. He was thirty-six years old. He’d been a successful business owner. He had a degree.
Never had any grass been mowed so intensely as the grass in his new backyard. His lines were perfect—well, as perfect as they could be given the small patches. He avoided clumps of leaves, the shattered pot that was hidden in a nest of weeds, the old shoe that was left by the back porch.
His shirt was clinging to him, sweat rolling in persistent drops down his face as the sun beat down on him. He made a mental note that he’d need to bring a hat from there on out. He could feel the burn settling in across the bridge of hi
s nose.
When he finished it was almost anticlimactic, and he didn’t feel even a tiny bit better. He was hot, he was sweaty, and he was back to having nothing to do. Running his hands through his hair in frustration, he wondered what he could harass someone into letting him do next. Maybe they’d let him help rip up the carpet?
Something cold touched his arm, and he startled, jerking away. Dakota was standing next to him, eyebrow raised. “Sorry,” he said, holding out a water bottle that was dripping with condensation. “You need to drink something.”
Jake mumbled his thanks, taking the bottle and practically inhaling the water. He hadn’t realized he was so thirsty. When he was done, he flipped the bottle cap around and around between his fingers. Dakota drank his own water much slower, gaze flicking over Jake. It was making Jake nervous.
“You can help me pull up the grass, if you want,” said Dakota when he’d finished.
Jake looked at him in surprise, the bottle cap falling from his fidgety fingers. He bent to pick it up, grimacing at the wet dirt clinging to it. “Really?”
“Yeah. I can always use the extra hand. We have to clean this up a bit first, but I don’t think you’ll mind helping with that.”
“I won’t.”
Dakota clapped him on the shoulder. “I know. I’ll go put the mower back and get some bags and the blower. You can take your pick.”
“Thank you,” said Jake, completely and wholeheartedly meaning it.
“You’re welcome.” He disappeared around the side of the house, and Jake collapsed back against the dirty wall. Turning his head, he watched a roach disappear through a crack in the glass of the window to his left.
Possibly, he’d have to get an exterminator.
Chapter Two
Day Three
RIPPING UP grass was a lot harder than it sounded. Or possibly Jake was a lot more out of shape than he had thought. He wasn’t going to complain, though. Not when Jasper and Dakota were the only ones who would let him help. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he hunched over the shovel and tried to shove it deeper. They’d watered the yard the day before, and again that morning, in an effort to soften the earth. Jake didn’t think it had worked. He did think it made a bigger mess.
