by Robin Stone
Evan’s Wish
The Bullseye Club Book 1
Robin Stone
Contents
Evan’s Wish
Reviews
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
The Landscaper
About Robin
Also by Robin
Copyright
Evan’s Wish
Can he separate business from pleasure?
Hardworking Evan is proud of his maintenance job in the new apartment building in town. He’s saving up to buy a house, so his brother Matt has a place to live when he graduates from college. Matt’s trying to stay sober, and Evan wants to help him get a solid footing with a safe place to live.
Savvy real estate agent Brooke asks Evan to escort her to an event. She’s attracted to Evan, and after a pleasant date, she wants to see him again. Evan is not like the usual lawyers and businessmen she dates, and their attraction is undeniable.
But When Brooke offers to pay Evan to escort her to more events, he hesitates. He feels out of place at formal events, but he’s getting attached to the curvy brunette, and he needs the money. Can Evan learn to separate business from pleasure?
Reviews
Praise for Robin Stone’s writing
“…My emotions ran the gamut from heartbreaking fear to utter joy…Tumultuous at times, but always sensual. The conclusion was the only viable ending, and it was a stunner!” - Lori, wee bit o’ whiskey on Landscaper in Paradise
"The continuous emotional turmoil is so real to life that it will leave you in tears one minute and laughing the next. A beautiful story with a beautiful ending…" - Queenie, Amazon, on Landscaper in Paradise
“In addition to sex so hot it made me squirm in my chair, I was impressed with Stone's clean, slick writing…” - Patient Lee, Writerotica, on The Landscaper Series
“…scorching and seductive reading. Naughty, fun and deliciously erotic. This will take you no time at all to digest, just make sure you can do so in private, ideally with some ice on hand!” - Ruthie Taylor, Wicked Reads Reviews
“…These would be great stories to read at night with a significant other beside you to share in the love, the heartache, the passion and the deep emotions of the characters involved.” - Shadow Knight, Amazon, on The Blue Collar Collection
“Trying to get dinner going and can't stop reading this. Just a sampler, but I want to read more. Dinner is probably sandwiches now.” - m torres, Amazon, on The Landscaper
One
I climbed my aluminum ladder for the hundredth time that day, but my mind was on the sexy brunette pacing the kitchen floor.
Concentrate. Just install this alarm, and you can go to lunch.
I was going around to the condos in the building and adding a new alarm speaker to the interior of each unit. The high-end building was less than a year old, and the hallways still smelled of fresh paint. The fire alarm in the hallways had gone off a few times, but some of the residents said they couldn’t hear it inside the units, so we had to install speakers inside each condo.
The electricians had already been in to run the wires. I just had to hang up a decorative faceplate and help test the alarms. Tightening one of the screws, I dropped the second one on the floor. I cursed under my breath and climbed down the ladder, scanning the floor for the tiny screw.
The woman talked on her phone while she paced. The scent of her floral perfume filled my nostrils. She looked all business in her silky white blouse, fitted beige skirt, and heels.
“I know,” she said into her phone. “Yes.”
She crouched down and picked up the screw. I got a nice view of her shapely calves, but tried not to stare. When she held up the screw, I held out my hand, and she dropped the screw into my palm.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
She gave me a quick nod. I climbed back up the ladder and installed the screw.
The view I had from the ladder was distracting. The woman had bent over to shake some food into a pet bowl, and her shaking movements made her curvy ass sway. My screwdriver stopped midair while I watched.
She cradled her phone against her ear and picked up the pet’s water bowl to refill at the sink. I heard a loud male voice on the phone. I looked back at the grate so she wouldn’t notice me staring.
The truth was, I’d noticed 3B—Brooke Sinclair—on my first day of work three months ago. She was walking briskly through the lobby, her phone glued to her ear. She nodded at me as I mopped the lobby floor. I held the door open once when she was carrying in bags of groceries, and she gave me a brilliant smile, causing my skin to heat beneath my uniform.
I think she did something with real estate because I heard her saying things like “lakefront property” and “quartz countertops.” She was always dressed in skirts or fitted pantsuits and wore pearls or gold necklaces. She had to have money to live in a place like this.
“We’ll talk about it in the meeting tomorrow,” she said.
She sounded annoyed, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she paced. She had curves I liked, and her clothing accentuated every one. I liked a woman with meat on her bones.
I pictured filling my hands with her nice, round butt, hauling her up against me and sliding my hands up her ribcage.
I looked back at my work, knowing I shouldn’t be thinking this way about one of the residents. But I hadn’t dated in a while, and this woman was filling my thoughts every time I saw her.
“Right. Yes, that closing is next week.”
A gray cat sauntered into the kitchen, purring and rubbing itself against her legs. She bent down and gave the cat a scratch behind the ears.
“Hey, punkin,” she whispered. “You’re a good girl.”
The cat went to her bowl and started eating.
“Listen,” she said in a take-charge voice I liked. “I need to let you go. I’ll see you in the office later. Yes. Goodbye.” She hung up and placed her phone on the counter. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem, Miss Sinclair.”
She gave me her wide smile, and her pretty face lit up.
“Please, call me Brooke.”
“No problem, Miss…uh, Brooke,” I said. “I’m almost finished.”
I concentrated on screwing the new speaker faceplate on, mindful she was still watching me. I willed my skin to stay cool as I worked the screwdriver, awareness zinging through my body.
The units in this building sold for over four-hundred-fifty-thousand dollars. I was saving for a house of my own, but couldn’t imagine being able to afford that much—not that I even liked the building. The soaring, glass-filled lobby always seemed cold and impersonal. The individual units were okay, depending on how the owners decorated.
Units owned by single men could be pretty bland, but I liked Brooke’s unit. She had family photos on the walls, colored throw pillows and area rugs, bright blue and yellow bowls. Lots of books, and even a few board games. It felt happy and relaxed.
I put my screwdriver into my belt, climbed down, and folded the ladder shut.
“All done,” I said. “They’ll send out a notice before they test the alarms.”
“Thank you, Evan,” she said.
I looked up, surprised that she knew my name. She pointed to my embroidered name tag.
“Oh, right,” I said.
Most people didn’t even bother to learn our names. I hoisted the ladder up and opened her door. I put the ladder in the hall and turned to grab my toolbox.
“Do you like working here, Evan?” she asked.
“Sure.” I picked up my toolbox. “Nice new building. Nice people.”
She stepped closer, and I got a better look at her face—pretty blue eyes, long eyelashes, and a few freckles on her nose and cheeks. I thought she might be older than me, but not by much. It was hard to tell with some people. She wore a gold chain around her neck, and small gold earrings.
“Where did you work before you came here?” she asked.
“At the apartment complexes on Second Street.”
“I know them. A builder is looking to put up a new apartment building at the vacant lot at the end of that street.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “You know the builder?”
“I’m a real estate agent.” She walked to a kitchen drawer, took out a business card, and handed it to me. “I work for Turner Real Estate.”
I shifted my toolbox to my left hand and reached out with my right. Her fingertips brushed mine, and she drew in a sharp breath at our touch. My pulse pounded, and I looked down at the card to break our intense eye contact.
“Thanks.” I tucked the card into my tool belt. “I’m looking to buy in a year or so.”
“Good! Why don’t you give me your number?”
“Sure.”
She pushed a pad of paper and a pen toward me on the counter, and I wrote down my info.
Silence stretched between us. Her gaze dropped to my chest, then slid back up to my mouth. It had been a while, but I knew when I was being checked out.
And I liked it.
Her blue eyes met mine again, and her full lips quirked.
“It’s been a pleasure, Evan.” She closed the door behind me.
I picked up my ladder and whistled as I walked down the hall to the next unit, thinking about blue eyes and curves, hoping I’d see her again soon.
Two
Thursday night and Cooper’s Tavern was buzzing with activity. A Red Sox game played on the flat screen above the bar, loud male voices talked over the sports announcers, and patrons walked by on the creaky wooden floor. Neon beer signs glowed with the names of beers that weren’t made anymore.
The bar had dark paneled walls, uneven tables, and worn-down bar stools from the work boots of carpenters, painters, and guys like me and my roommate, Liam. Once in a while, a few hipsters wandered in, looking for craft beers and organic pizza, but they usually left disappointed and didn’t come back.
That was just how we liked it here.
Tom, the crusty owner and main bartender, kept the place clean enough. It was dark and dated, but it was like a second home to me, Liam, and the guys in the Bullseye Club.
“Quiet, you assholes!” Liam yelled. “I can’t hear the game!”
After work, I’d picked up Liam in my truck, and we headed straight here to watch the game and get some chow. Liam still worked in maintenance at the run-down apartment buildings where we met five years ago.
My stomach cramped with guilt every time I picked him up at the rear entrance next to the rusty dumpster. Liam had a car, but was saving up for new tires. I offered to loan him the money with my extra pay, but he turned me down.
“No way,” he said. “That’s money for your house. I’m not takin’ it. Quit feelin’ guilty. There was only one job open, and you got it. I’ll get my chance one of these days.”
I told Liam I’d recommend him if another job opened up, but so far, it hadn’t. I tried to make up for the difference in pay, buying Liam’s pizza or paying for his beers once in a while. But I made sure to put my extra pay into a savings account for a house. The account was growing painfully slow until I got this new job.
A few minutes later, our buddies Max and Drew joined us, and we put in orders for burgers, beer, and fries. Max had a stocky build and scarred hands from welding. Drew was lanky and always wore the same lucky Sox cap during the season. He was a drywall installer.
I half-listened to their conversation, keeping my eyes on the score. The Sox were down by three, and the guys were getting loud.
“You’re a dipshit,” Max said. “You couldn’t pay me to get married.”
“I’m not getting married. I haven’t even asked her!” Drew said.
Max was an avowed bachelor, and Drew’s girlfriend was dropping major hints about rings.
“Just wait,” Max said. “First, she starts talking about rings, then she’ll start talking about dresses and renting the Carlisle for the reception.”
Drew groaned. “I can’t afford that hotel! I was hoping we could get married in her parent’s backyard or somethin’.”
“No girl wants to get married in some back yard,” Max said.
Jessa, the tavern’s long-suffering waitress, came over with our tray of burgers and fries.
“And I suppose you know exactly what women want, right Max?” she asked, nudging his arm.
Drew and Liam and the guys sitting at the bar laughed.
“You know it, baby,” Max said, wiggling his dark brows.
Jessa had a boyfriend and was off-limits, but that never stopped guys from trying. She tossed her head, her blonde ponytail flinging over her shoulder.
“Leave her alone, Max!”
Tom, the grey-haired, gruff bartender scowled as he polished the bar.
I picked up a fry and tossed it at Max. “Yeah, asshole.”
Max turned to me. “What the hell do you know about it? You don’t even have a girlfriend.”
Liam elbowed me in the ribs. “Yeah, been a while.”
“Shut up,” I muttered. “I met someone today.”
There was a beat of silence, and several heads swiveled in my direction.
“Atta boy!”
“‘Bout goddamn time!”
“Who is she?”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin, stalling for time. Heat crept up my neck.
“Her name is Brooke, and trust me, you animals don’t know her.”
“Brooke, huh?” Liam asked. “Where did you meet her?”
The guys at the bar cheered at the TV. Liam glanced at the screen for a few seconds, but I wasn’t off the hook.
“You haven’t mentioned a girl named Brooke,” Liam said, frowning. “Thought you told me everything.”
“I do,” I said. “It’s just… I met her at work, and I think she might be interested.”
“At work?” Liam asked. “She on staff there?”
“No.” I dipped a fry in ketchup. “She lives in the building.”
“Uh oh!” Max’s dark brows knitted together. “She lives there? This girl is way outta your league.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Come on, Evan. You know how much those units cost. Almost half a mil. She lives alone? No boyfriend? No roommate?”
“I’m not sure. She was talking to a guy on the phone, but it sounded like business. It didn’t look like a guy lived there.”
“So, she carries a mortgage for that place on her own. She dress nice? Have nice jewelry?”
I squirmed in my chair. “What’s your point?”
Liam shook his head. “Women like that don’t give guys like us a second look. Never works out. Worlds apart.”
“That’s bullshit!” I said. “She was checking me out today. And when I run into her in the hallway, well…”
“What?” Liam asked.
I thought back to Brooke and her smile when I held open the lobby door for her. She seemed friendly, as if she’d smile at anyone who opened the door.
But what about that hitch in her breath today when our fingers touched?
“She gave me her card,” I said, as if that settled it.
“Oh yeah?” Max asked. “Where does she work?”
The guys laugh-snorted and rolled their eyes.
“I told her I was looking to buy a house soon.” I shoved my basket of fries away. “She seemed nice. She was definitely checkin’ me out.”
Max whacked the back of my head. “They sell mansions at Turner Estates with heated pools, five-car garages, and tennis courts. Nothing you could afford even if you saved up for a million years.”
Shit. I didn’t know that.
“This girl was friendly because she wanted your business,” Max said. “Or a referral.”
“Hey,” Liam said. “Maybe she does like him! Quit bustin’ his balls!”
Good old Liam, he always had my back.
“Nah,” Drew said. “She probably has a boyfriend who’s a lawyer or something. She wouldn’t go out with a maintenance guy in her building.”
Jessa came over to pick up some empties. “What are you guys yammering about?”
“Evan likes a girl who lives in his building. She works at Turner Real Estate.”
Jessa cocked her head. “That’s the one where they sell the mansions, right?”
I nodded, waiting for Jessa to give me shit. She could dish it out as bad as any of the guys. She looked at me.
“Why not?” she asked. “You still have all your hair and teeth. You’re a good catch, unlike these idiots.”
That set off another round of raucous arguments and insults. Jessa laughed and walked away with our empties. The Sox must’ve scored again because a fresh round of cheers went up.