Being around Oliver was going to maim me if not kill me. I avoided his house after I went home with a headache. Ashton checked me over and determined my skull saved me. I hadn't really hit the wall that hard. The worst part was the way Rex told the story.

"The man couldn't take his eyes off her. When he ran to her, the room was so hot I had to fan myself."

I stamped my foot. "You kept working on the carpet. You should have run to me. You're my friend."

"And fight Mr. Gorgeous. No, thank you."

"Fine. You can work on accessories while I go to the house alone."

"Yes, boss lady." Rex and Ashton laughed disrespectfully.

Being responsible for an entire project was scary enough without having my job resting on it. Stepping back, I realized there was no risk for Carol. If I messed up, she would remind Mrs. Sumner that she insisted I do the job. The only ones set to lose were Oliver if I ruined his house, me, and Rex. Losing my job would be awful, but letting down Oliver would be worse. Why did he have to be so sweet? The guy I dreamed about for ten years was not as wonderful as the real man. Too bad I would never be good enough for Oliver Sumner.

A few days away from the house and the difference was remarkable. The demolition of the two bathrooms was complete, and the rebuild had started. The powder room went fast. Mick and I had been texting back and forth, so I knew the air conditioning guys were finished. At least Oliver could enjoy one change amid chaos.

At four-thirty the house was quiet like Mick had predicted. Being Friday, the lull happened closer to four, but that part of the project was up to Mick. I had enough to worry about, including a battle between the rational and the impulsive parts of my brain. Should I wrap things up with Mick before Oliver came home? Before giving in to my weakness, I heard him. I shut my eyes and breathed in. I could already see him looking irresistible in his suit. Was it against the law for a man to look that good every day?

"Emma!"

His voice carried to the second floor. My shit box in the drive gave my presence away. I started down the stairs to greet him. He smiled up at me and I wondered if my skirt was too short or my hair was out of place. My hair and I had a love hate relationship. Once I discovered the magic of relaxers and perfected the straightening iron, I loved it. I hated it because I lost sleep to my straightening routine. To make matters worse, like Cinderella, the magic only lasted so long on a humid day. Without warning, the silky strands could shrivel up into bushy curls. I normally wore my hair up, but hadn't, so I reached my hand up to ensure it hadn't started to curl.

Why was he smiling? My knees wobbled with each step down the stairs. I held onto the bannister like an old lady because my record with injuries was embarrassing. Each step down brought me closer to Oliver. My heel caught on the spot Rex had pulled up the carpet, and I grasped the railing to keep from falling. I could see it in slow motion, including me landing on top of Oliver.

As I stumbled and caught myself, Oliver stepped forward. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Good thing because I would have taken you out."

For a second, I saw a hint of pink in his cheeks as he looked up at me. The moment was broken when he abruptly stormed off. "Where's Mick?"

He found Mick in the downstairs powder room. Oliver's voice was commanding.

"You need to get that rug on the stairs pulled up. Emma almost fell. Her heel got caught."

Mick nodded. "Monday." He looked at me standing back. "Emma should learn not to wear heels on the job site."

The heat crept into my cheeks as I turned away and headed for the door, but Oliver stopped me.

"Aren't you going to show me today's progress?"

I looked at my shoes. They were my favorites. I remembered the day I found them. Brynn had been disappointed they didn't have them in her size. She had small feet, and I did not. They weren't like the shoes Amanda wore with designer names. My entire wardrobe resulted from the art of shopping at Marshalls, TJMaxx, and clearance racks.

His crooked grin went right to a piece of anatomy that needed to stay out of things, but kept gushing its opinion.

His eyes skimmed down to the heels which almost caused a disaster. "I like them." He reached out and caught a strand of hair between his thumb and finger. "I like it down."

My brain and tongue froze. "I. I, um... like your suit."

He let out a full belly laugh. The pit of my stomach quivered. "Thanks, but next time just say thank you. When a man compliments you, they aren't looking for a compliment in return. We really don't care about our suits as much as we do about a woman's skirt."

Feeling confused but less nauseous, I squeaked out a meek thank you. He followed me around his house. When I showed him the thermostats, he commented on the cold air.

"Turn it down or you'll freeze."

He winked. "I'll need body heat."

I gulped and looked away. He couldn't mean me, but he didn't seem like a player. Even when he randomly kissed me, he apologized. We ended the tour in the kitchen.

"I should go."

He ignored me. "Can you let Oreo up?"

He had put his cat in the basement for the day. I walked to the door and opened it. When she didn't appear, I called her. Like a blur, she came running and rubbed at my feet. I couldn't resist the urge and picked her up.

Oliver looked over at us. "Do you dare hold her again?"

I looked down at her and she sniffed me, a kitty kiss. "It wasn't her fault."

He smiled again, and I wanted to ask him to stop. "Hey, do you want to stay for brinner? I understand if you have to rush off for a date or something."

Date? I hadn't had a date since before I left Rhode Island. I shook my head and his eyes dulled as his mouth turned down.

"I have a date with my sofa. What's blinner?"

He smiled so wide I thought his cheeks might crack. "Brinner. My specialty. Breakfast for dinner."

I felt my heart take off. "Do you mean waffles?"

With an affirmative nod, he looked deep into my eyes. "Is it a date?"

A date! "Do you mean a plan?"

He took my hand in his. It felt so small against his soft palm. "I mean a date."

"But, but I work for you!"

He shook his beautiful head. "My mother is paying. She insisted as my housewarming gift."

"Most people show up with a plant or a bottle of wine."

He laughed. "I wouldn't know how to buy a plant. I'd bring a bottle of scotch."

"And it would cost more than what I make in a week. Why would you call it a date? We are from two different worlds."

He looked at me as I stood with my hands on my hips. His face was soft. "My world can be lonely and I like you. There's something about you. I felt it the first time we met, and it hasn't gone away."

I gulped. "Something?"

He shook his head. "Like we've met before."

Averting my eyes, I watched Oreo as she ate her dinner on the floor near my feet. What would he say if I told him the truth? He would remember me as a young girl and dismiss me again. Mick appeared, breaking the moment.

"I'm off. See you on Monday."

Oliver waved. "Have a nice weekend."

It was just the two of us, and Oliver seemed oblivious to the awkward moment. He took a waffle iron out of the cupboard and plugged it in. He kept occupied by retrieving ingredients from around his kitchen and measuring them into a bowl without a recipe.

I found a voice I didn't recognize. "Can I help?"

He smiled his panty dampening smile again. "Do you cook?"

I shrugged. "Not often, but I can. My stepmother is a chef so I've picked up a thing or two."

He handed me two eggs and a small bowl. "Beat them." I blushed and felt juvenile. "Stepmother, so that means..."

"My mother died when I was thirteen."

He stopped whisking the mixture and turned to me. His sky-blue eyes caressed my face. They were gentle and supportive, and I felt his gaze in my heart.

"I'm so sorry. At thirteen, you should have been thinking about your first crush."

"I was a late bloomer. My first crush was at sixteen." I really needed to cut my tongue out of my mouth.

He smiled. "He must have fallen for you?"

I shook my head. "Not even close."

"If you ask me, the guy was crazy."

I smiled. How could I not? "Can we change the subject? Unless you want to tell me about your first crush."

Oliver smiled smugly. "Ms. Brownsey, my fifth-grade teacher. I thought she was perfect." His smile turned to a frown.

Laughing, I turned away. "What happened?"

"She came back after Christmas vacation, Mrs. Albert. For that reason alone, I hate Christmas weddings."

Thinking of Oliver and weddings was beyond my band width. I walked away only to realize the only working bathroom was in his bedroom.

A/N Too bad I made Mick 50 or I'd have a great tool belt picture 🔥🔥🔥