David, Renewed

by Diana Copland

  The doorbell rang and David huffed out a desperate laugh. “Perfect.” Awesome. He was about to meet the handyman with his eyes red from crying. He hoped he could pass it off as being a result of the smoke. He yanked off his glasses and rubbed his face with his sleeve as he rushed through the smoke-shrouded house to open the front door.

  When he did smoke rushed out through the opening onto the porch.

  He had a fleeting impression of a guy about his height with dark brown hair and startled blue eyes.

  “Jesus, is it on fire?” He pushed past David into the living room and went straight for the fireplace. David could scarcely see him through the thick haze but was able to make out him reaching into the fireplace for the handle to the flue.

  “I already opened it,” David called, coughing. The man came back, an image appearing out of the fog, and he grabbed David’s arm. He yanked him out through the open front door and over the porch, pulling him stumbling down the steps to the lawn beyond. David gasped at the manhandling and inhaled a lungful of acrid smoke for his effort. It closed his throat and he coughed, bent at the waist.

  Behind him something metallic clanged. With his hands on his knees, David peered up in time to see a very fit man in worn Levi’s and a beat-up black denim jacket pass him carrying a long aluminum ladder. He laid it on the lawn, extending it with a tug, then stood it up and leaned it against the roof’s edge. David was going to offer to hold it but couldn’t quit coughing, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The guy scampered up the ladder like a squirrel climbing a tree. And even though he was still coughing and bent double, David couldn’t help but notice the strong thighs and very nice ass that climbed out of his sight.

  Weakened and feeling like a complete idiot, David dropped heavily to his ass on the lawn, his head between his knees. Loud banging came from his roof, and even though he couldn’t see the chimney from his vantage point, he could tell several minutes later when the smoke stopped pouring out through the open front door. Now it lifted from the house toward the sky in an innocuous, puffy spiral.

  Instead of it being a relief, the sight made David feel even more of an idiot. What the hell had he been thinking, skipping the inspection? He didn’t know the first thing about home repairs other than they were liable to cost him a small fortune.

  Even steps came down the rungs of the ladder, and David glanced up as the man stepped onto the lawn, but the sun was in eyes that still hurt, and all he got was an impression of windblown dark hair. Footsteps moved past him.

  A few minutes later when a soft touch fell on his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He let out a startled cry, which started him coughing all over again.

  “Sorry,” a deep voice said above his head. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No, it’s okay.” David blinked rapidly.

  “Here.”

  A hand appeared in his line of vision, holding a frosted water bottle. David took it.

  “Thanks.” He unscrewed the cap and took a deep drink. The cold water felt like heaven on his raw throat and he sighed.

  “Do you think you need to be seen for smoke inhalation?”

  David frowned and shook his head.

  “It’s nothing to be messed with, man. Smoke inhalation can play hell with your lungs. Even lead to pneumonia.”

  “No, really.” David struggled to push up from the grass, feeling even more like a damsel in distress when he couldn’t seem to get his feet under him. A strong hand appeared before his face and David took in the broad palm, the callouses on the long fingers, and the wide leather bracelet around a tanned wrist. David hesitated a moment, then took the offered hand and was lifted easily to his feet. “Thanks. I’m”—he finally looked up into the man’s face and his mouth went dry—“fine.”

  “I’m Jackson Henry. And I’m assuming you’re David Snyder?”

  David nodded.

  Damn, the man would have to look like a model for the cover of Handyman’s Monthly Magazine. David didn’t know if there was such a thing, but if there were, this was their guy. They were about the same height, but that’s where any similarity between them ended. Jackson Henry had high, sharp cheekbones and a square jaw darkened by the shadow of a heavy beard. His eyes were piercing and the same pale blue as the patches of fall sky that showed between the branches of the trees above. His nose was straight and strong, but for a slight hook that showed it had been broken once, and his mahogany-colored hair lifted in the cold breeze. He had a strong upper body and narrow hips, and he was holding a clipboard and pencil in his free hand. His arched black brows were furrowed in concern as he studied David’s face.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” His deep voice moved over David’s raw nerves like warm molasses. It would have been soothing, if David weren’t so damned humiliated.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He held up the bottle. “This helped.”

  “Good.” Jackson continued to look at David as if afraid he’d keel over any second.

  “So, um.” David shifted uneasily under the steady gaze of his keen eyes. “What happened? I opened the flue, even felt a rush of air when I did.”

  “There was a cap on the chimney. I think originally it was to keep pinecones from those big firs from falling down into the opening.” He gestured toward the three towering evergreen trees next to the side of the house. “But I’d be willing to bet it’s been years since anyone checked it. It was completely blocked with pine needles.”

  “How did you get it cleared?”

  A smile pulled at the corner of Jackson’s full lips. “I yanked the cap. When I pulled on it, it was so corroded, it broke off in my hands.” He shrugged one square shoulder. “You’d be better off with a screen, at any rate.” He looked down at the clipboard and made a quick note in jagged handwriting.

  “Thanks.” When Jackson looked up, David tried for a smile, not sure he succeeded. “I guess that means you’re hired.”

  Jackson snorted softly. “Why don’t we do a walk-through before you commit yourself?”

  “Oh, sure.” Once again David felt like an idiot, but he led Jackson back up onto the porch and through the open front door.

  The house still smelled of smoke but the acrid cloud was gone. Jackson paused and looked around the room with clear appreciation. “Have you any idea who the architect was?”

  David blinked at the unexpected question. “No idea, but I imagine I can find out. Why?”

  “It looks like one of Andrej Janic’s homes.” He moved to the built-ins near the fireplace, reaching out to touch the leaded glass facing the cabinets almost reverently. He ran a broad palm over the smooth wood of the mantle, and David saw he had beautiful hands, the fingers long and the nails neat and clean. For some reason they weren’t what David expected a handyman’s hands to look like.

  “The name sounds familiar.” The way Jackson ran his palm over the wood was almost… seductive.

  “He was a Dutch immigrant who moved here in the last part of the nineteenth century. He worked for Langdon and Sons Architects.”

  “That’s a name I recognize,” David said. They’d designed city hall, and the only five-star hotel downtown. It was a grand old building, full of Victorian details and stained glass. A little heavy on the rococo for David’s taste, but beautiful nonetheless.

  “He worked there until 1914, then went out on his own. Most of the craftsman-style homes in town are his or copies of them.” Jackson continued through into the dining room, his step deceptively light considering the heavy work boots he wore. He made a delighted sound when he saw the dining room built-ins and the amber-colored glass sconces on the walls. Pausing, he studied the small rectangular chandelier in the middle of the room, a masculine combination of wrought iron arms topped with more amber glass lampshades. He touched it lightly. “If this is original to the house, it’s probably worth five grand.”

  David looked up at the fixture. He’d thought it was cool but assumed it was a reproduction. “Damn.” He rubbed his jaw. “I do in
teriors, and I had no idea.”

  Jackson looked at him with a raised brow. “You do interiors?” With a wry smirk, he glanced meaningfully at the ratty recliner and the lamp on the cinder block. “I mean, I’ve seen minimalist before, but this might be pushing it.”

  David felt his face color. “Bad breakup.”

  “Ah.” Jackson nodded sagely. “I take it the other party took custody of the furniture.”

  David snorted. “He got custody of… well, pretty much everything.”

  He held his breath, waiting to see how the contractor would react to the he comment, but Jackson grunted softly and continued on into the kitchen, David behind him. He took in the fifties-era appliances with a pleased expression, opening the massive oven in the white enameled range. He glanced at the old Philco refrigerator with the heavy chrome handle on the outside, then crossed to the dishwasher door leaning against the wall.

  “This isn’t good.” He bent and looked at the hinges. “Looks rotted out. Might be cheaper to replace it.”

  “I wondered.” David didn’t like the baby-pink dishwasher anyway. The old white enameled refrigerator and range were cool if they could be made to work, but that pink monstrosity had to go. He liked the butcher-block counters and the subway-style backsplash in brilliant white, and the heavy farm-style sink looked to be original too. “The fridge isn’t working, but I’m hoping it’s because the power’s out.”

  Jackson looked over at David. “How long has the power been out?”

  “Two days. The breaker box is on the service porch.”

  “Did you call Inland Power?”

  David felt his cheeks heat. It was one of the problems with being as fair as he was; everything he thought ended up in a blush on his face. “I didn’t even think to.”

  Jackson grunted softly and David grimaced. He led Jackson onto the service porch, then stood back as he found the gray box and opened the door.

  “Oh, holy shit.” A mixture of wonder and concern colored his voice. “When did they last update the wiring?”

  “No idea.”

  “Looks like the 1950s.” His gaze followed a line of soot up to where the ceiling was discolored with water damage. “That doesn’t look good.” He started making quick notes on his clipboard as he studied the box and the discolored wall above it.

  “Can it be fixed?” David looked over his shoulder at the old-fashioned glass fuses.

  “Anything can be fixed,” Jackson answered, still surveying the damage. “It depends on how much you want to spend. First thing, this panel needs to be replaced, transferred from fuses to breakers.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I’m licensed. First we need to figure out what’s going on with the roof. You’ve got a leak.” He used the pencil to point at the large brownish stain on the ceiling. “We also need to check inside this wall for mold.”

  The word made David cringe. “Any idea how much?”

  Jackson chewed on the corner of his lower lip as he studied the fire-damaged box. “The box shouldn’t be too bad, depending on the wiring. Five, six hundred. I’ll know more when I get a look at the roof. That needs to happen before bad weather rolls in. But if you’ve got mold….” He shook his head. “Mold eradication is pricey, and I don’t do it. You’d need a professional team for that.”

  David’s heart sank. “The heater isn’t working either. I tried to turn it on this morning, and nothing. The Realtor told me it was replaced in 2006, and the unit looks sound.” He was relieved he remembered that much.

  “Gas or electric?” Jackson looked at the venting near the ceiling.

  “Forced air gas.”

  “Where’s your thermostat?”

  David led him back through the kitchen and down the hall, and showed him the small plastic box on the wall. “There’s your problem,” Jackson said, making another note on his clipboard. “Electric thermostat, gas heater. At least that’s what I’m going to bet. We won’t know for sure until the power is back on.”

  “Okay. Any idea how long…?”

  “A couple of days.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment swamped David. A couple of days? He supposed that meant returning to the hotel or taking his old room at his mom’s, and either option felt like failure.

  Jackson looked at him, brows arched. “Problem?”

  David swallowed and shook his head. The motion of his throat walls sent up a warning shot of pain, and he took another drink from the bottle of water in his hand. “No,” he said when he realized Jackson was still looking at him. “That’s fine. Uhm, there’s an issue with the water heater too.”

  “Okay. Where is that?”

  “Basement.”

  David led the way.

  BY THE time they trooped back up the stairs, David knew two things: he’d probably need a second mortgage to cover all the repairs, and Jackson Henry was going to drive him insane.

  The area in the basement where the water heater was located was tight, between the large tank and the boxy heater unit. Jackson glanced at the latter and said the pilot was lit and it looked okay, the first bit of good news David had, but then he amended the statement by saying he wouldn’t really know until the power was back on. He also thought the water heater was probably a lost cause.

  He’d crouched down to look under it, and while there was no butt crack, there had been a couple of inches of firm, tan skin above jeans and a thin band of dark briefs that looked like it would be smooth to the touch. David could also see part of a tattoo on the right side of his back above the belt line, some lines and a splash of dark pink, disappearing beneath the waistline of his jeans. Most of the shape was hidden, and David was instantly intrigued. The small space also forced David within touching distance, and since the basement was the only place that didn’t smell like smoke, he was able to smell Jackson for the first time.

  The scent of tangy cologne on a clean man was David’s kryptonite and he knew it. Jackson smelled like a clear, crisp fall morning combined with cedar, and the scent went straight to David’s dick. He tried to take a step back but the space was too small, and he was grateful the oversized hoodie he wore fell past his hips because he was pretty sure he was more than half-mast. More and more nervous in the man’s presence, he didn’t take another deep breath until they came back up the rickety basement stairs, which Jackson said should probably be replaced too. David lost track of the climbing repairs, and he lost what was left of his mind when he followed Jackson up to the first floor and was at eye level with the shifting muscles in Jackson’s ass. Never before in his life had David wanted to sink his teeth into someone’s butt, but he did then.

  WHEN THEY were once again standing in the living room, Jackson surveyed his list silently for several minutes, so long that David’s frayed nerves felt like someone twanged them with a tuning fork.

  “Well,” he said finally, “the most pressing things are probably getting the power back on, checking that roof, making sure there’s no mold in the wall between the kitchen and the back porch, and replacing the water heater. The less important things, like the dishwasher and the basement stairs, can be done over the next few months. That way it won’t be such a big hit to the bank account at once. We have a small window with the roof. We shouldn’t start to see snow for another six weeks, but weather is weather, so you never know. I should also tell you that if the roof is a complete loss, I don’t do that. But I do know a guy who’ll be fair.”

  “Oh, I forgot.” David cringed. “A neighbor mentioned there might be a problem with the plumbing.”

  “Like?”

  “He said the previous homeowner was told there was a break in the main sewer line between the house and the curb.”

  Jackson whistled softly between his teeth. “If that’s true, it’s pricey. I don’t do that either. But again, I know a guy.”

  “That’s fine.” David felt a little faint. What was money, anyway? He could always take a cardboard sign, write Bankrupted by Home Repairs, and stand on a corner durin
g his lunch hour. He fought down a slightly hysterical giggle. “That all sounds fine,” David finally managed to choke out, then fought spiraling alarm. He had no idea how much he’d committed to when he usually knew how much he planned to spend at the grocery store before he walked in the door.

  Jackson seemed to recognize his panic.

  “Look, I know this is a bit overwhelming, particularly when you just bought the place.” He paused. “Did you have an inspection? Because I find it hard to believe that back porch passed.”

  David shook his head miserably. “And I knew better.” He scrubbed his hand over his head, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I acted impulsively. I was living in a hotel, and I saw the sign….” He shrugged. “I grew up in this neighborhood. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He knew he sounded foolish, but Jackson smiled faintly.

  “Did you even look at the porch?”

  David sighed. “Long enough to know I’d have to buy a washer and dryer.”

  Jackson’s smile deepened enough for a dimple near his mouth to pop into view. God, on top of everything, the man had dimples. David stifled another sigh.

  “I know it’s none of my business,” Jackson said, tentative for the first time. “But do you mind my asking what you paid for it?”

  David cringed. “A hundred and sixty-five?” He wished a hole would swallow him up.

  One of Jackson’s brows shot up, but David didn’t know him well enough to know if that was a good or a bad thing. “Well, if it helps, if this is one of Janic’s houses, it’s probably worth a whole lot more than that.” He looked down at his expansive list. “Okay, I can bill you one job at a time if that would be helpful. Not to sound like a jerk, but I won’t pad the labor costs and I’m good.”

  David felt his face heat and he hoped like hell he wasn’t telegraphing what his traitorous imagination pictured Jackson being good at. He was going to have to get past this attraction; he’d just gotten out of a five-year relationship. It was too soon for him to be drooling over some guy like a teenager. If the man was going to be around for a while he could enjoy the scenery, but that was it.