Fixing Ashley Read online

  “I can imagine.” And I can, this is probably Brad’s way of saying she was a raging bitch; of course, he’d never say that about a chick. He’s Brad—all gentlemanly and sweet—never says anything bad about anyone. “So, did you ask Laurie out?”

  “Yeah, we’re going out next weekend.” I can practically hear his smile through the phone line.

  “That’s awesome, man. Listen, I gotta go, my shoulder is killing me. See you tomorrow though, right?” Cracking my neck, I feel the tension there, still throbbing and pulling at it.

  “Yeah, about that. I may be in a little late. I’ve got an install, and I can’t reschedule. It shouldn’t take all morning, but I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  With a resigned sigh, we say our goodbyes and I pray my shoulder is well enough to at least let me do some of the minor things that need to be done on my own.

  . . .

  Smoke billows out of my nose and into the warm July air, birds overhead sing their praises, and I watch as ducks land on the lake behind the house.

  I’m here early, but I couldn’t resist. As I had originally thought, the porch does wrap all the way around the house. The view is spectacular. If I take anything away from doing this job, it’s the realization I need my own plot of land, pronto.

  Sitting here on the back porch, drinking coffee, smoking a cig, and just being in the moment, relaxes me more than any of the muscle relaxant meds I’ve taken over the past few days.

  “I told you not to smoke in the house.” Ashley’s harsh voice breaks me out of my Zen state.

  I turn my head and look up at her. Fuck, she looks even angrier than she sounds. And hot. Angry looks very good on Ashley Evans.

  “I’m technically outside,” I challenge, smirking and raising an eyebrow. At this point all the work I’ve put into the house speaks for itself, and she can’t fire me for smoking outside. At least I don’t think she would do that.

  “Yes, well, it’s a disgusting habit.” She turns on her heels—giving me a great view of her ass in that short skirt she’s wearing—and makes it a production to quickly get inside the house and close the door.

  Stubbing out my smoke, I put the rest of it in my pack before pulling myself up and following her inside. My neck still aches, but the meds I took last night helped a lot.

  “I’m sorry, Ashley, but I was outside. Besides, I’m here early as fuck—” I pinch my lips shut and take a deep breath, realizing I’ve let my brain-to-mouth filter get the best of me. Rubbing my palm behind my neck nervously, I continue, “Look, I don’t smoke inside the house. Hell, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’m trying to quit.”

  She rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue, clearly annoyed. “Whatever. Let’s get this show on the road so I can leave you to do your job.” For some reason, hearing her all breathy, annoyed, and visibly flustered leaves me in a state of arousal I wasn’t sure could even happen this early on a Monday morning.

  “Fuck,” I mutter lowly, running a hand over my face as I enter the kitchen. Ashley is bent over the kitchen sink, looking outside the window with her ass up in the air and her body stretched out over the counter. Her height isn’t working to her advantage here, but it’s giving me some great images to use later.

  When she hears me, she quickly stands and walks around the kitchen, clearly in awe of what she sees. “This is...beautiful.”

  “You have no idea,” I reply quietly, thankful she doesn’t know I’m not exactly talking about the kitchen.

  I watch and follow behind her as she makes her way into the main floor bathroom where we’ve put together the cabinets, and all that’s needed is for the plumber to go underneath and hook it all up.

  “This is exactly as it should have been, Devon.” Her voice is soft and shaky, on the brink of tears.

  I watch her frown as she looks into the living room, on the far wall where we haven’t quite finished assembling the shelving and trim that goes on either side of the fireplace.

  “We’re finishing that today,” I admit, and she simply nods in response.

  We’ve gotten a lot done in a week, but there is plenty left to do. Painting and final trim work is probably the most time-consuming, and those are the things I’m doing by myself. I refuse to trust anyone with those little touches. As good as Brad is with a chisel, I don’t trust him with a paintbrush to save his own life.

  “Well, you’re clearly on schedule, Devon.” She looks around the entrance, and up at the light fixture that’s not quite centered over the door. “Do you think...?” She points to it and scrunches up her nose.

  I smirk, my eyes meeting hers. “And the one in the dining room?”

  “Oh, my God,” she exclaims, her eyes dancing with excitement. “I tried to tell them over and over, but they wouldn’t listen. Ugh, I swear—” She shakes her head, her eyes looking back up at the ceiling. “Yes, please, fix the one in the dining room, as well.” She smiles sadly. “Anyway, I’ve got to go. Good job, Devon.” She moves toward the door, then turns, adding, “Thank you.”

  I watch as she walks out the door, and for some reason, hearing her tell me I’ve done a good job makes my heart beat a little faster.

  Groaning, I rotate my shoulder, closing my eyes as the burn ebbs and settles. I then pick up my tool belt in hopes I can fix some more of the little dents and imperfections in this big, beautiful house.

  . . .

  The next day, Ashley comes to the house just as I’m finishing up fixing the porch light in the back. I’m about to call it a day as she wordlessly leans over the balcony and looks out into the lake.

  “Nice view,” I remark, as I’m getting down from the stepladder, trying not to look at her legs. The last thing I need is another injury. My shoulder is only now starting to feel better.

  She scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. Her eyes are trained as far away on the water and her mind seems to be. I wish I knew what was going on in there.

  Shrugging, I pick up my tools and make my way inside the house, through the kitchen door. I go to the living room and pick up a few things I’d left hanging around on my workbench, when I was putting in the doorknobs to the bathroom and bedroom doors earlier.

  Once I’ve got all that settled, I go back outside to get the ladder, and put it back in the garage. I hate leaving things out and about at the end of the day, especially when I know I won’t need them the next day.

  “They’re not bad people.” Ashley’s voice startles me as I’m picking up the ladder and closing it.

  I turn to her. “I’m sorry?”

  She shrugs, still looking out onto the lake. “My clients. They aren’t bad people.”

  I smile a bit and lean the closed ladder onto the house before joining her. “They certainly had good taste.”

  She looks up at me, eyes tired and a small smile creeping up her lips. “That they did.”

  “You have a chance to look around today?” I’m the one who’s all business now. Trying to distract myself from her enticing scent and the way her hair is blowing in the soft breeze is difficult, to say the least. In fact, not thinking about her is starting to be the hardest part of this job.

  She looks away and pushes herself off the railing. “No, but I’m sure it looks great. You’re a good worker.” She turns to me and takes a few steps, brushing past me and toward the side of the house. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  And just like that, she’s gone. I hear the scratching of tires on gravel before I’m even inside the garage with the ladder in hand.

  Chapter 4

  “I am not meeting your girlfriend’s sister. No... Shit, make that your girlfriend's divorced sister,” I tell Brad pointedly.

  “Laurie was married too, man. It doesn’t take anything away from who she is,” he admonishes. I can tell he’s not going to leave this one alone, but I am not into being set up. Matchmaking isn’t my thing.

  “Whatever, dude.” I can’t tell him I don’t want to go on a date with anyone. After Carole, dating hasn’t been my focus,
besides there’s this other woman who’s kind of growing on me like a bad fungus.

  It’s been a few weeks and I’m making a lot of progress in the Evans’ house. Ashley hasn’t been there much while I’m there, and I’m starting to get wary. I miss seeing her, which makes me feel all kinds of creepy.

  She goes to the house at night after I’ve gone home, and leaves me these little yellow Post-it notes with her square draftsmen’s scrawl written over them. She lets me know whether or not she likes something, and thankfully seems pleased with my work.

  But sometimes, the little notes are annoying as hell. Yesterday, I had one by the kitchen door, reminding me to lock it before leaving. As if I didn’t know. Please, what am I, twelve? And a few days ago, there was one on the mantle reminding me it needed to be painted an accent color. Seriously, I have the plans and sketches, and I can read.

  It’s annoying and condescending on so many levels.

  In spite of all this, though, I’d still like to see her once in a while. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times, and I understand she’s busy, but Portland’s not that big. The least she could do is make the drive over to the house sometime during the day.

  “Dude, Laurie is adamant Shelly has to come with us, and I don’t know who else to ask,” he pleads, his voice bringing me back to the now.

  “How about she brings one of her girlfriends? I’m seriously not in the mood to be bitched at because I have a dick.” I take a cig out of my pack and walk out to my backyard.

  He chuckles lowly, and I contemplate hanging up the phone. “Laurie says she’s not as somber as she was the other night. Plus, I’ve only met her once, and she was drunk at the time.”

  “Drunk or not—” I inhale, letting the smoke settle there for a moment before slowly exhaling “—if she bitches at me one time because I’m male, or compares me to any guy she dated, I’m warning you, I’m out of there.”

  “I thought you stopped smoking?” he asks, not-so-subtly changing the subject, and I can hear the judgment in his voice.

  “Fuck you, man. I’m doing you enough favors today. I’ll see you later. And by the way, remind Laurie this is not a date.” Hanging up the phone, before he can chastise me anymore, I close my eyes and smoke the rest of my cigarette, peacefully relaxing to the loud boisterous noises of the city.

  Rolling my eyes at myself, I make a mental note I actually hate the city and everything it encompasses. That lot down the road from Ashley’s house seems closer within my grasp with every trip I make.

  . . .

  “So Devon,” Laurie starts, “please tell me why this isn’t a date?”

  I turn to Brad, who’s doing his best to concentrate on the menu in front of him, before answering through clenched teeth, “Well, Laurie, first off, I don’t know the first thing about your sister. Secondly, I don’t do blind dates. And thirdly—”

  “He has a serious thing for his boss lady,” Brad finishes for me, snickering and keeping his eyes trained on his menu.

  I eye him warily. “I hate you, dude.”

  “Ohh—” Laurie claps excitedly, her pink hair bouncing distractedly “—do tell.”

  “I don’t...she’s not...I’m a contractor, dammit. She hired me to finish a house, and that’s all I’m doing.” I turn to Brad. “I don’t have a crush on Ashley.”

  As the words leave my mouth, Laurie starts choking on her water. Brad jumps out of his chair and starts patting her back and fawning all over her, as Laurie coughs and sputters, her face turning red while her eyes are trained on me. “Ashley?” she sputters once more and I nod. “Ashley Evans?” she asks again.

  “What? You know her?” She has my attention all of a sudden. There’s nothing wrong with getting a little inside information. Fuck, it’s not as though I’ll ever ask her out.

  Well, maybe. I have a week of work left to do at the house, maybe after that. Maybe I could leave her a Post-it note.

  Laurie smooths down her hair and runs her fingers under her eyes, fixing her mascara or whatever shit chicks put on their faces. “Ashley.” She smiles brightly, her eyes leaving mine to look behind me.

  I’m not sure what to make of her expression, but when her face breaks out in a shit-eating grin and Brad’s mouth drops open, I turn in my seat to look behind me.

  “Devon?” Ashley frowns, then looks at the two other people sitting with us. “Laurie, what’s going on?”

  I’m dumbstruck, unable to speak as my mouth opens and closes, but no words escape.

  Dafuck?

  I watch as Laurie turns to Brad, then to Ashley, and back to me. “Well, um, Devon, this is my sister, Ashley.”

  My eyes dart from her to Brad. “I thought her name was Shelly?”

  Laurie smiles, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ve been calling her Shelly my whole life.” She chews her thumbnail and turns back to Ashley. “I swear I had no idea this was the Devon.” She emphasizes the “the.”

  The Devon? What. The. Fuck?

  I look to Brad, who’s found something particularly appealing in the menu, and then turn my attention to Ashley. “I’m sorry about this. I swear, I didn’t know.”

  She clenches her jaw and gives me a tight smile. “It’s fine.”

  Fine. Ha! Woman speak for “fuck you.” I’m screwed.

  “Really, I had no idea about this, or about you,” I reiterate, frowning, but hopeful she’ll relax a little.

  She turns to me, narrowing her eyes. “I said it was fine, Devon.”

  “I get that, but you sure as shit don’t look fine,” I reply harshly.

  She laughs, but there’s not a trace of humor in her voice. “Yeah, you’d know, right? ‘Cause you know me so well, don’t you?” Sarcasm drips off her voice, igniting that last little shred of decency I’m holding on to.

  “Actually, I don’t. How about you write it on a Post-it note, and tell me all about yourself.” The words leave my mouth with a venomous tone to them, making the tension around us thicker than ever.

  Her eyes flicker to our companions, who are oblivious to us, and she brings her face closer to mine. Whispering she says, “Look, my sister has had a really hard time with men. Your friend right there—” she points to Brad “—doesn’t seem like an asshole, so please do me a favor and try not to irritate me.”

  I feign affront. “Irritate you? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I narrow my eyes and lower my face closer to hers. “I have been nothing but nice and polite with you, lady. I’m the one working his ass off to make your clients’ house sellable. When was the last time you were in there with me, huh?”

  “To be fair, Devon,” Brad pipes up, taking us out of our bubble, “I’d never met your Ashley.” He grins and extends his hand to Ashley as if he hadn’t met her before. “I’m Brad, and your clients are lucky to have such a nice home.”

  “Clients?” Laurie asks, eyeing Ashley inquisitively.

  “Laurie, walk with me to the ladies’ room, please?” Ashley asks, her tone sugary sweet, but her eyes full of fire.

  “I honestly had no idea,” Brad says, as soon as the girls are out of earshot.

  I laugh humorlessly and run a hand through my hair. “You had no idea?”

  He shakes his head, his face all serious. “I swear, man, this is all news to me. I mean, I knew Shelly worked in construction, and from talking to Laurie, I thought she was a decorator or something, man.”

  Shaking my head, and desperate for a cigarette, I ask, “What’s Laurie’s last name?” Because, really, what are the chances?

  “Stevens. But she was married and I never asked. Really man, trust me, I didn’t know.” His eyes are wide, pleading as he looks around. “Maybe this is your chance to get to know her.”

  Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I reply, “I work for her, man. I can’t do this.” I move my chair back and start getting up.

  “Just, talk to her. You can be friends with a woman, right?” He grins crookedly and cocks his head to the side.

 
; And fuck if I know. I’ve never been friends with anyone of the opposite sex. The only female friend I have is Eliza, and that’s because she’s married to my brother, Mitchel.

  I sit back down, resigned I’ll just have to sit here, shut up, and take it. It’s only for a few hours, anyway. What’s the worst that can happen?

  The girls come back from the bathroom, and Ashley looks a lot better. She smiles and sits next to me—across from Laurie, and I can’t help the sigh of relief that rolls out of me. For some reason, the fact she came back, looking a little less like she wants to murder me with her stare, makes me feel a little better.

  “You okay?” I ask, while Brad and Laurie get lost in their little bubble.

  She nods and gives me a tight smile. “Yeah, you know...this is a little...weird.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” I admit, nodding and returning my attention to our friends. Since neither of us is remotely close to pretending this is a date, I relax and order a drink. After all, what is she going to do, fire me?

  . . .

  The food is pretty good and the company’s decent, all things considered. Or, it could just be due to the fact I’m nursing my third drink.

  “So D.J. here—” Brad motions to me, irritating the crap out of me with the damn nickname “—starts laughing, and then Mitchel goes into this rant about his truck and how it’s sacred and shouldn’t be tampered with.”

  Shaking my head, I chuckle at the memory. Mitchel had just bought his first truck, and I’d taken it upon myself—as the big brother—to unhook the battery so he couldn’t start it.

  Brad was there, of course, and couldn't stop laughing, as Mitchel tried over and over again to start the damn thing.

  Looking over at Ashley, I see she’s smiling, eyes shining, and cheeks pink. She looks so beautiful, and damn if that’s not a look I want to see every day. I really do wish she’d come by the house more often.

  “Hey, it was a nineteen ninety-one Jeep. In my defense, there was a strong chance the thing wouldn’t have started anyway,” I add and take another pull from my beer.