Liam's stop at Lowe's was efficient. We drove around to the back of the store where there were several loading docks. "I'm just going to leave the truck running," he said, hopping out. "That way, you can enjoy the air conditioning."

"Nonsense!" I argued, turning off the ignition and throwing his keys to him. I hopped out of the truck and walked around to where he was standing. "We don't need to pollute the air on my account."

With a grin, he responded, "All right then." Damn, I knew from then on I'd be trying to make him smile all the time because his was so endearing.

Liam gave a receipt to a Lowe's employee dressed in cargo pants and a red vest that bore the name of the store. The man then disappeared into the back of the store with another red-vested employee and Liam opened the tailgate. Before I knew it, the truck was filled with boxes upon boxes upon boxes, almost all the exact size and shape. "Curtain rods," he informed me as two men laid the last box in the truck bed.

"Ahh," I teased. "I was thinking we were coming here for something more manly like a chainsaw."

I could tell that he was amused by my deliberate stereotype, this time releasing a small laugh in addition to his stellar smile. "Not sure if you know this, but most people don't use a chainsaw when they're renovating a house. Maybe when they're building it from scratch, but we're way past that point."

I climbed into the passenger seat once again. Instead of dropping me off at WalMart while he had gone to Lowe's, I had decided I wanted to go to Meijer and Liam decided to come with me. There were no Meijer stores in California and I had actually missed the place more than I realized. He went off to find a few things when we arrived, and then he met up with me in the freezer section. We chatted haltingly while I chose some things to at least get me through the weekend. I had to stock up on staples like spices and baking supplies, but I figured I'd do it a little at a time and see how fast I went through food once I started working at the inn and eating on occasion with the Styles family. Of course, I had to find ice cream; that was an essential item that always had a dedicated space in my freezer.

"Yes! Hudsonville is on sale!" I cheered, carefully perusing the available flavors.

"Are you going to pick one?" Liam teased gently after about three solid minutes of me just looking.

"I'm going to pick more than one," I laughed. "But I still can't decide. This ice cream is the best! Have you tried it?"

"Can't say that I have."

I put my hands on my hips and cocked my head. "You grew up in Michigan and you've never tried Hudsonville ice cream? Shame on you!"

He matched my pose, saying, "Well, in my defense, I spent some of my most formative years in a boarding school in England."

"That explains the English accent then," I bantered.

"Well, that and my mother is from England as well."

"I see," I said. "How about this? You pick a flavor and I'll pick one? Then you can try some when we get back." It dawned on me that I may have been flirting but I made no attempt to stop.

"What if I choose a flavor you don't like?" He asked.

"Impossible!" I answered, shaking my head. "But if that truly happens, then you're welcome to take the whole container home."

He leaned in close and began musing, "Hmmm, do they have sushi flavor?"

"Ew," I said, making an exaggerated gagging noise. "I like sushi but never, never  mixed with ice cream."

He laughed at me laughing and finally chose Seaside Caramel while I chose my all-time favorite, Strawberry Cheesecake. We put them into the basket and checked out. The next stop was home since the day was warm enough to melt the ice cream after much more than the fifteen-minute drive back.

Liam helped me to carry everything to my apartment. "I'm supposed to come back and finish that at some point," he told me, tipping his head towards the unfinished wall. "Let me know when it's a good time."

"Almost any time, really. Except like midnight or you know, three in the morning. I'm just getting settled this weekend, so really whenever it's a good time for you is fine with me."

"Well, I have to let Harry know I'm back and then I can probably get to it now, if that works for you."

"Perfect," I grinned. "So ice cream now or later?"

"When I finish," he answered. "It will be my incentive to work fast."

"Sounds good." I put my groceries away and then set to work unpacking some of my clothes. I had shipped some boxes with more of my belongings; they would be arriving in a few days, but for now I had the essentials.

I was folding t-shirts when I heard a timid knock at the door. I found Liam, weighed down with a tarp, a bucket of paint, and paint rollers, brushes and tape, all inside of a tray.

"I was going to say you could have just come in, but I see that would have been impossible," I said, smirking at his predicament. "But how did you knock?"

"My foot," he answered, setting everything down in the living area. He started straightaway by laying down the tarp and taking everything out of the tray.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. I glanced at my phone. It still felt like it was before lunchtime for me, but it was already 2:00 PM local time. "It's the middle of the afternoon for you."

"It's not the middle of the afternoon for you?" He chuckled.

"Nope," I shook my head proudly. "I'm still on California time. I'm still fine from breakfast, but I could make you a sandwich or something if you'd like."

He looked like he wanted to say yes, but he said, "No, I'll just get to work. I'm fine. Thank you anyway."

"Pssh," I said, pulling out a loaf of bread. "Anything you're allergic to or just can't stand?" I asked.

"Well, if you're going to force me to eat, then anything sounds fine. The only thing I can't stand is liver paste but I didn't notice that in your cart."

"I will likely shove food at you whenever you're at my place, so be prepared." Wait, that made it sound like I thought he would come over all the time. Crap. I brushed past my possible faux pas and continued, "Nana Sylvi and my Gramma Susan forced the etiquette of food on me. Plus, Gramma and Grampa are foodies, so they love to try things out on their guests. Me, I'm your basic sandwich kind of girl most of the time, but I don't mind trying new things either. I just don't experiment much with my own cooking. If you want sushi, we're going to have to buy it somewhere because I'm not making it!"

"So, Gramma and Grampa? On your mom's side or your dad's?"

"Mom's," I said simply. I spread some mayo on the bread and piled it with turkey pastrami and provolone cheese. "I lived with my Gramma Susan and Grampa Tom in LA since I was fifteen. Nana Sylvi was Gramma Susan's mother. She lived in this house until she died in 2007," I said, nodding towards the main house.

"Huh, I didn't know anyone had lived here that recently. Harry said the place needed a ton of work," Liam remarked.

"Yeah, my grandparents moved to California in 2000. They hired a live-in helper for Nana Sylvi, and my mom was around to help out, too. No one had the time or money to work on the house for years. It was in pretty bad shape by the time Nana died."

I brought Liam's sandwich to the table and then poured two glasses of iced tea.

"Sorry if I sound like I'm prying about your family," Liam said. "I just find the history of old places like this fascinating." He took his first bite of the sandwich and made an enticing mmm sound.

"Me, too!" I said, probably a bit too enthusiastically. "You like it?" I pointed at the sandwich.

"Perfect," he replied. "If you don't mind my asking, what happened to your parents? You don't have to answer that if it's too personal, but you said you lived with your grandparents in California."

"Eh, that's fine. It's not my favorite subject, but whatever. My mom and dad divorced when I was nine and then she married my stepdad when I was eleven. His company transferred him to Amsterdam in 2007, the same year Nana Sylvi died. I didn't want to move there, so Mom gave me the choice to live with my dad or with my grandparents out in LA. I chose LA." I glanced at him, hoping that had satisfied his curiosity. When I talked about Nana Sylvi or my other ancestors, I was an open book. But I wasn't too fond of discussing my current mess of a family. "Just so you know, even though my dad lives in Detroit, living with him wasn't really an option as far as I was concerned. It was a little uncomfortable when he married someone just seven years older than me."

Liam's upper lip curled as he made an "ew" sound. "Sorry," he snickered. "That wasn't very nice, was it?"

"Don't worry about. At least you can imagine how I felt. I was a teenager so it was ten times more creepy back then. I've gotten used to it now."

"Wait, so when you were fifteen, your nana died, your mom moved to Amsterdam and your dad got married to a girl who was young enough to be your sister?" Liam asked, his eyes wide with concern. 

I nodded exaggeratedly. "Yep, you got it. Worst year of my life. So, let's change the subject," I said, popping up from my seat and clearing away the dishes. "Can I help you with the wall?"

"You don't have to," he answered.

"I want to. Gotta earn my keep somehow," I said, breaking into a smirk.

"Okay, well I just need to tape and we can start cutting in," he said.

"Right, Regan mentioned that the drywall still had to be taped, whatever that means. Sorry, my knowledge of construction is limited, meaning I know nothing. Nada." I raised my hands and shrugged.

He burst out laughing. "I already did the drywall tape. See?" He showed me a white seam. I nodded, not really understanding what I was looking at. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" He asked.

"Afraid not," I giggled.

"Drywall comes in big sheets, like paper but much thicker. It gets screwed onto the wall frames, but there are seams because we have to piece it together to fit just right. So I put mud in the seams, covered it with drywall tape and then I sanded it."

"Mud?"

"Drywall mud, not real mud," he winked.

"I didn't think so," I laughed self-consciously. "Like I said, I know nothing. But I'm a fast learner, you know, just in case you were thinking of firing me from my first painting job."

When he laughed, his eyes squinted but I could still see them sparkle. How was it possible for a man to be so good looking? It was then that I had to remind myself that I wasn't interested in any kind of relationship just yet. And maybe not ever. But for now, at least, I had to be focused on my studies and my research before I started my PhD.

"So now all we have to do is use masking tape to protect the floor and ceiling and then we can start," he informed me.

"What's cutting in?"

"Oh Caila," he said. "You poor thing. You mean you've never even re-painted your bedroom?"

"Nope. Whenever we wanted something done, my grandparents just hired someone to do it and I never paid attention."

"Lucky you," he teased. "Okay, well cutting in means that you use a paintbrush and do the edges next to the tape first, taking care to not to go beyond the tape so you don't get paint on the ceiling, floor or for example, window and door frames if there were any on this wall. Once you get those detailed parts done, you can use the roller to get the rest of wall much more quickly."

"If you say so," I shrugged.

Within minutes, Liam had the wall sectioned off in wide blue masking tape. "Here you go," he said, handing me a paintbrush. He shook the can of paint which made his biceps flex, a sight I enjoyed. Then he pried off the cover and stirred it with a wooden stick. "Ready?" I nodded. "Okay, you're going to dip the brush about halfway but then try to brush off the excess paint before you put the brush on the wall. If there's too much paint on it, it will drip and that looks shabby."

"Shabby," I mimicked his word and his accent.

"Are you making fun of me?" He asked with an amused smile on his face.

"Not at all," I said. "I quite like your accent." He laughed too hard at my attempt to copy his accent with that statement.

Once I got started with painting, I was surprised at how soothing it was just to work in silence, letting my brush slide over the grayish colored primer, leaving a trail of soft blue in its wake. It wasn't long, however, before Liam broke the silence by singing California Dreaming. I glanced at him briefly and then joined in even though singing wasn't my forte.

"You have a great voice," I said after we finished.

"Thanks," he said shyly. "I sang a lot in school. Did some talent shows as well."

"Did you win anything?"

"Nah, just the admiration of the girls from the school across the river."

I'll bet.

After we finished cutting in, Liam started rolling out the larger areas but I insisted I wanted to at least try. He showed me how to run the roller in an arc, going over a spot a few times until the paint was a good thickness. Using the arc pattern helped the paint to blend into the wall without leaving exact lines of where the roller had been. He started singing California Girls and handed me the roller.

My stupid brain wondered if he was singing that particular song because I was a California Girl. Sort of. I forced myself to turn back to the task of painting and again, I found it immensely satisfying to cover the entire wall with a new shade that would undoubtedly relax me on stressful nights, if I even had any. So far, it felt like I could just stay in this place forever and be happy, but it had only been 24 hours so I knew I couldn't predict anything just yet.

"Sounds like you're on a California kick today," I commented when he started singing Hotel California.

"Yep, I guess you put California in my brain," he said, pausing from his singing and giving me that eye-crinkling, heart-melting smile again. Shit, was he flirting now? "Actually, I'm not gonna finish that one because I don't know the rest of the words."

"There!" I proclaimed a while later, sealing up the last of the drywall with the tranquil blue color. I stood back to admire my first paint job ever.

"You're a natural, Caila," Liam smiled. "Let me just clean this up and then I'll be back for that ice cream."

"Let me help you," I said.

"Nope, I've got this," he said, closing the paint can and taking the tray and paintbrushes outside to wash them with the hose. "See you in a few."

I quickly washed up and changed my paint-splattered shirt. Good thing it was an older one  because I was pretty sure the flecks of blue were permanent. Then I got the ice cream out of the freezer to soften just a bit. Liam knocked lightly and then let himself in.

"Hey," I called. "So do you want to try both?"

"Sure." He had changed his shirt as well and was now wearing a tight white t-shirt that showed off what I could see of his tan, on top of his tattoos and it nicely hugged his pectoral muscles. I could get used to having him around. I brought the bowls of ice cream to the couch and gave Liam his bowl.

"Ohhh," he moaned after one bite of the Seaside Caramel. "This is amazing. How have I never tried this before?"

"That's what I'm saying," I shot back. "Now try the Strawberry Cheesecake. It's the bomb."

He spooned up some of the strawberry flavor and moaned again. "So good."

"You really get into your food, don't you?" I teased. 

He threw his head back in laughter. "Yeah, sorry. I don't typically make sexual noises when eating ice cream. This is just really good."

When we finished, Liam stood to leave. I didn't want him to leave, but what was I supposed to do, hold him hostage? I opened my mouth, wanting an idea to come out that would cause him to stay, but it didn't.

"'Bye, Liam," I said. "Thanks for bringing me into town today. And for the paint. It looks fabulous."

"You helped with the paint," he said. "Thanks for the ice cream. I'll probably see you around then."

"Yep, see you around," I said and closed the door behind him.

* * * * *

I wouldn't mind painting a room with Liam. How about you? ;)

Don't forget to let me know what you think! <3