Men For Hire

by Tina Donahue, Bella Settarra, Michelle Roth, Jennifeer Denys

  He really enjoyed working in these older houses. Most of the time he was able to uncover a lot of really unique craftsmanship when he did repairs. One day, he’d buy some land out in the middle of nowhere and build himself a home like this.

  He’d add the small creature comforts, but he didn’t want anything too slick and modern looking. There was something incredibly charming about the history of these old places. He’d like to incorporate that into his own place one day.

  There were several pieces of torn up crown molding. He was looking forward trying to cobble together something matching. It wasn’t often that he got to be creative for the sake of appearances. Mostly he was fixing toilets or electrics. It was necessary, but not exactly the creative outlet he’d been looking for all of his life.

  He smiled sardonically as he pressed his palm against this windowsill. When he felt it wiggle under his palm, he noted that as well. Ian really had no idea how the tenants had managed to destroy so much of the house. He could tell from how meticulously clean it was that it hadn’t been entirely owner neglect. She’d damn near watered up when she was talking about the place earlier.

  Thankfully, he still had both his parents, so he didn’t understand the kind of loss she must feel. He could imagine, though. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought of losing either of them, and then shook his head.

  Next, he walked into what looked like a fully furnished room. The only one in the house. The living room had a couch and a table, but the house contained little else. The room contained a large four-poster bed in cherry wood, matching chest of drawers, and nightstands. It was decorated in varying shades of cool greens, lilacs and cream lace. It wasn’t exactly his thing, but she’d added little bursts of color around the room that made it interesting.

  As he moved from the room, not wanting to invade her personal space, he saw a painting laying against the wall. It was a lavender lily up against a foggy gray background—with a giant hole torn in it. A little feminine for his own place, but it seemed to belong here among her things. Shame it is torn, he thought, as he moved to the guest bath.

  When he flipped the light switch, nothing happened. He scribbled some notes. He tried the taps on the sink, flushed the toilet. No water. He shook his head. Nothing in this room worked. This would be his first order of business. The electricity could be a big issue. The water … well, you had to have a working loo.

  As he was examining the tiling in the bath, Stella walked in, displeasure written on her face, and said, “Sorry about that. That was my lying estate agent. I’ve been fighting with him since I saw the place. He’s giving me difficulty getting the security deposit from the last tenant.”

  Ian shook his head, disgusted, and said, “They really tore up the wood flooring. He should give you the deposit for that alone. Let me write out a detailed damage report. You can send it to him.”

  The frustration left her face for a moment. She smiled and said, “That would be really helpful, thank you. If he doesn’t respond to me, perhaps I’ll forward it to a lawyer. I’ve taken detailed pictures.”

  “If even a half of what’s on my list is damage from the tenants, and I suspect it is, then you’ll have no problem getting what you’re owed,” he said.

  She shook her head and said, “I’m just so glad my mum can’t see the place now.”

  He felt that pang in his chest again when her eyes watered. He quickly said, “Well, I saw at least one room looks put together. Did you want me to check anything in there? I stuck my head in but didn’t feel right poking about when you weren’t there.”

  Stella cleared her throat and said, “Oh, no. I think everything is good in there. Not so much in here, though. Nothing really seemed to work.”

  “Good eye,” he teased her, smiling. “I’m going to start in here. By the way, when I poked my head in I saw that painting. It was really pretty. Shame it was torn. I wonder if it could be fixed.”

  Ian saw the flush of pleasure spread across her face. He hadn’t been expecting that. Even more, he hadn’t been expecting her next words.

  “I painted that when I was sixteen. It was the first piece I ever sold. Granted,” she said, laughing, “that it was to my mum, but still. That was the start of my career.”

  As they walked through the remaining upstairs rooms, the easy flow of conversation continued. Considering the track his own mind had recently been on, it was funny that she’d turned out to be an artist.

  He examined the rest of the house while they idly chatted about her art. He’d be interested in seeing some of it. She apparently had started glass blowing recently. He had to admit, he was a little jealous.

  She seemed to have the infinite time and space to do nothing but create. He definitely wanted that for himself. That was part of the reason he had started building furniture.

  It was past four when he finally finished going over the house with her. As she’d walked through with him, he had to admit, he’d actually enjoyed himself. The repair business was just a means to an end for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken any pleasure from it.

  He left for the day, heading to the DIY. He picked up several items he’d need for the smaller repairs. Overall, the place hadn’t been a complete disaster. He was certain he’d be able to repair most, if not all of the damage. And, if he got to spend some time in the company of the lovely Stella Whitman along the way, then that would be okay as well.

  Chapter Three

  When Ian arrived the next day, they sat down and went over the time schedule he had outlined for the projects. The flooring would take up the bulk of the time, but going room by room it would take just shy of two weeks. It was just about what Stella had expected. A little better, actually, so she was thrilled to be under budget.

  He went over the schedule and which days the rooms would be worked on, so that way she could plan her painting accordingly. As much as she’d love to take her time restoring the house, she couldn’t put off work infinitely.

  The first course of action was steaming off the wallpaper. She would start in the utility room and then make her way steadily through the house. He would be working primarily in the guest bathroom, which luckily, the original owners had never wallpapered.

  She smiled as she thought of her mother. Mum had always had a way of making people understand that when she called something “simply lovely” she meant the opposite. That was how Stella felt about the wallpaper. It needed to go.

  She had picked light colors, since the windows were small. She hoped that would make the space seem more airy. If all went well with the repairs, she might ask him to close off the back porch as well. It would be nice if she could get an air conditioner working out there before summer.

  It had pleased her that he had liked her work. The earliest of her paintings, even. After he had left yesterday afternoon, she’d managed to find the art store before it closed. She had purchased a kit to patch the picture. She would have to work to match the color of the petals on the lilly but she might be able to pull it off.

  She couldn’t bear to throw it out. If the patch didn’t take, there wasn’t much hope for the painting otherwise. It was now or never, she decided.

  After she had laid out her supplies, she began the slow and meticulous task of patching it. She ironed the canvas patch on the back, then turned it over. As she dabbed the archival paste on the torn fabric, she heard a loud clunk followed by a curse.

  She winced but continued to focus all of her attention back on the painting. She slathered on a thin coat of gesso to even out the surface of the canvas, then plugged in the hair dryer. Turning it on low, she gently dried it.

  Stella looked up, startled, when she heard the clump of heavy work boots on the stairs. Her eyes widened when she took in the sight of an absolutely drenched Ian Starling making his way into the dining room. She turned off the hair dryer and gawked openly.

  His shirt was plastered to his chest. She stopped just short of fanning herself, because… Wow. She could
see every sculpted muscle. Instead of staring at him, she said, “Oh my gosh. Let me get a towel!”

  She abandoned the painting and moved into the utility room. She grabbed one of the towels fresh out of the dryer. When she spun around, she saw him looming in the kitchen. She handed him the towel and asked, “Dare I ask what happened and if my upstairs is flooding?”

  He swabbed the water from his face and assured her, “No flooding. Unless you count me.”

  She bit down on her lip, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous image in her kitchen. She moved back out to the dining room table instead.

  Ian smirked at her and said, “Christ, Stella. At least wait until I’ve left the room to laugh.”

  Stella cleared her throat and attempted to regain her composure. That black shirt plastered to his chest wasn’t helping. At least he hadn’t accused of her gawking. That would have been infinitely more embarrassing.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she said as she settled back into her chair. “So what exactly happened upstairs?”

  “Well, good news,” he said, false cheer in his voice. “I figured out why the sink and toilet weren’t running.”

  “Oh. Is it bad?”

  “Not bad. Just bloody nasty. There was a pair of trousers lodged in the toilet.”

  “A whole pair?” she asked, mystified. “Why would anyone do that?”

  He shrugged and said, “I’ve got no idea. But, I was able to dislodge them.”

  A horrible thought occurred to her.

  “Oh, Christ. Please tell me that’s not water from the toilet,” she begged, disgust written across her features.

  “No! God,” he said, shuddering. “They clogged the toilet and then turned the water off under the sink and behind the cistern. Maybe so no one would try and use them. I don’t know. I turned the water back on under the sink and the knob came off in my hand. I managed to get the water stopped but now I’m going to have to replace it … and one of the fittings too. It was cracked.”

  “Lovely,” she said, meaning the exact opposite.

  He gave her a sympathetic look and then continued, “There was a little water damage to the edge of the vanity. When it’s dried out, let me know if you want me to take care of that too. It’s mostly cosmetic and on the inside of the cabinet.”

  Stella sighed and said, “And yesterday I was so happy when it looked like things would be under budget.”

  “It’s hard to tell, especially with the things I can’t really see until I get in there.”

  “I know. I know. Did you want to head home? I can’t really expect you to work soaking wet all day,” she said.

  “No need. I carry an extra set of clothes for just this reason. I’ll go grab them out of my truck and change.”

  Stella nodded and said, “It’s a little chilly. You probably should.” The cool October breeze had been blowing through the house all morning. He had to be freezing.

  Towel in hand, he nodded and then turned toward the front door. She took pleasure in watching from her chair in the dining room until he disappeared from sight, and then let out a sigh. She needed to stop ogling that poor man. He was going to think she was some undersexed spinster.

  He would be at least half right. She didn’t really consider herself a spinster, but she was definitely undersexed. She really needed to start going out again and meeting people. After the remodel was finished, she promised herself.

  * * * *

  As she was cleaning up the patch supplies, Ian came down from upstairs, toolbox in hand. “How did it turn out?” he asked.

  “I took it out on the porch to paint because it isn’t light enough in here. I’m actually thinking of closing this in at some point. It would be lovely to paint out there. The light is perfect,” she said as she walked him back toward the porch.

  He immediately slipped into contractor mode again, looked around the space and said, “I can see how the light would be good from almost any angle in here. If you want to enclose it, let me know. I can give you an estimate for that too, if you like.”

  “Once I know for sure,” she said. “I’m kind of dithering about it now, waiting to see how bad the rest of the house is.”

  He nodded and said, “Well, good news. Your bath is fully functional now. I managed to replace the knob, unclog the toilet, and fix the light switch for you without soaking myself again.”

  Stella laughed and said, “Probably for the best. I hear that water and electricity don’t mix so well.”

  “No. Not at all,” he agreed, a slow smile spreading over his face.

  He walked over to where the repaired painting lay on the table. As he took it in he said, “If I didn’t know it had been ripped, I wouldn’t even be able to tell. That’s amazing.”

  She smiled and said, “I’m happy with how it turned out.”

  “I still can’t believe you painted that.”

  “Not lying. I swear it was me,” she said with a grin.

  “Do you have anything else here that you’ve worked on since?”

  Stella thought for a moment and said, “Hmm. I don’t think so, but … let me get you my card. It’s got my website on it. You can look through my portfolio there, if you like.”

  A few moments later, armed with her card, Ian left for the day. When she closed the door behind him, she let out a long sigh and leaned against it. She knew it wasn’t smart, but she had a serious case of lust when it came to Ian.

  He had been nothing but friendly to her. He had given her no reason to think or expect anything other than professional behavior. A girl could dream, though. Especially with that soaked black T-shirt he was wearing earlier.

  Hmm. Maybe it was time to go take a shower in her newly functional guest bathroom. A really, really cold shower.

  Chapter Four

  Ian ran a hand through his curly hair. He was officially going to go insane. Stella had stripped down to a tank top today. She was steaming the wallpaper off of the living room and dining room walls. The doors and windows were all closed up because she’d claimed it was too clammy outside.

  When he’d been downstairs last, she’d been in the process of piling her hair on top of her head. She had looked up, as if she had forgotten he was there. The little wispy curls and the momentary surprise in her eyes, coupled with that strappy little tank top she wore—he needed to avoid her until she was in a bloody turtle neck, otherwise he was done for.

  He’d spent the majority of the day sanding down the wood flooring. Most of the divits were gone now. Once he’d wrapped that up, the wood needed to be restained and sealed. The fact that the flooring had been solid hardwood made the restoration much easier.

  For the most part, he’d been able to avoid Stella. Not that she was chasing him down for conversation or anything, but he’d decided it was best to be as brief as possible. Especially when he’d seen her full breasts straining against the hem of the tank top. He’d wanted nothing more than to strip her down and fuck her bloody senseless.

  He sanded down the remainder of the hallway and gave a start when he saw the object of his thoughts lingering at the top of the stairs watching him. He flipped off the sander.

  “It’s after five, Ian. The hallway will be here tomorrow. Besides, it’s been raining all day and the lane gets really crummy in this weather.”

  “Good point. It was a little dodgy this morning. I’m just going to leave this here, okay?” he asked, referring to the orbital sander.

  Stella waved it away and said, “I won’t sell it to gypsies before morning, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Thanks,” he said, snorting. “All right then. I’m going to head on home for the evening. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

  She nodded and then slipped into her bedroom.

  He took that as his cue, gave the hall a quick sweep, put the sander into one of the empty rooms, and then headed downstairs. When he took in what she’d been able to accomplish, he was a little surprised. She’d managed to get all of the wallpaper in the l
iving room, dining room, and kitchen off. She was better at that than he was, he acknowledged.

  A few minutes later, he slid into his truck and headed back up the rutty lane. When he reached the narrow part of the road, he let loose a string of curses. The old dead oak that had stood next to the lane on the way back to the main road had fallen over. Its roots had been ripped clean out of the soil. It was a lot windier than he’d realized, apparently. He eyed the watery ditches and groaned. Aside from this lane, he didn’t think there was another way back to the main road, and it was completely impassable at the moment.

  Well, he realized, this made being distant a little bit difficult. He’d either need to get someone to drive out to Orsett to pick him up, and he could just imagine his brother’s response to that request, or he was stuck for the night.

  Ten frustrating minutes later, he knocked on Stella’s door. When she answered, she seemed surprised to see him.

  He sighed and said, “That old dead tree is in the lane now. I can’t get around it.”

  She groaned and said, “Bugger. And it’s a bit late to call a tree removal service.”

  He nodded and said, “You’re right. They’re not likely to be freed up until morning.”

  She hesitated for a moment and said, “You can camp out on my sofa if you need to. I’ll call them first thing in the morning. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it was windy enough to take down a tree out there today.”

  “I didn’t either,” he said. “I appreciate it. I hate to intrude but the thought of sleeping in my van—”

  “Oh god. No. Don’t do that. I’ve got a perfectly adequate sofa. Come in,” she said, waving him forward. “I’m sorry you’re stranded.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “I was thinking of having them cut back some of the trees. I feel bad,” Stella said, frowning. A moment later she added, “I’m …uh … making some dinner if you like?”