Mr. Fixit

by Lauren Landish

  Twice.

  Okay, maybe more. But the fact is, when I’m holding my sides and trying to keep myself from hurling because I’ve spent the past three miles trying to keep up with a guy easily a foot taller than me, and I need something to distract myself from the pain in my sides, Caleb’s stomach is an easy target.

  That’s the way we’ve always been. I think it’s an outgrowth of our first encounters as adversaries. What started out in open competition has transformed, and I like Caleb. But we’ve always teased each other mercilessly, and sometimes, even folks around us think we’re a couple, but we’ve never taken it to that point. It’s just the way we communicate, an evolution of the trash talking we used to do. Now, it’s just sexy banter.

  That doesn’t stop the secret that I’ve kept hidden for the past couple of months, that deep down, I think Caleb is one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever seen. Caleb Strong sends my pussy into overdrive sometimes, and right now, I’m thinking that what Caleb doesn’t know won’t hurt him. With a grin, I start to move my hands over my body, tracing across my collarbones and down the outer edges of my breasts. I’ve always been a girl who loves her breasts played with, even if they’re not big. A man who can give my breasts proper attention can make me melt like caramel.

  Slowly circling toward my nipples, pretending it's Caleb’s slightly calloused hands on me, I close my eyes and let the warm water add to my fantasy. I move my hands slowly, taking my time as my right hand plays with my nipples. “Oh, God . . .” I moan, pulling on my nipples slowly, rolling them between my fingers and feeling the tingle rush down my body all the way to my toes. “Mmm, that’s so good, Caleb. So good.”

  I stroke my other hand down my stomach, finding the wet curls at the top of my pussy. My fingernails scrape lightly over the soft hairs, down to my pussy, lightly cupping myself. I start rubbing, letting my fingers massage my soft outer lips, leaning back against the tiles of the shower as I slide a finger between.

  “That’s it, slide it in deep,” I moan as I slip two fingers inside me. In my mind, I can see the steely tension of his forearm as he starts pumping his long, sensitive fingers in and out of me. The first things I noticed about Caleb—well, after his body—were his hands. They show such brute power, but I’ve seen his attention to detail and how graceful his calloused hands can be.

  I roll my thumb, brushing it over my clit as in my mind, Caleb’s abs flex like they did when he was reaching to grab his fresh shirt. I can almost smell the honest, manly scent of him. He’s not one for body washes or exfoliating cleansers. Give Caleb Strong a bar of Irish Spring, and he’ll come out looking and smelling like a god. My pussy throbs as my thumb works with my fingers, clenching and tightening, wishing it was him I was feeling. I take a deep breath, remembering how his shirt smelled like him—earthy, manly, with a hint of sawdust. Rubbing faster, I imagine him in little pink fluffy handcuffs and smile, but when I realize he’s all mine to tease any way I want, I fall off the cliff into my orgasm before I even touch the imaginary him in my mind. “Oh, fuck,” I moan as my pussy tightens around my fingers and my ass starts thumping into the tile of my shower. “Yes, that’s it, Caleb, make your baby come.”

  The world gets swimmy, and after a moment where I might’ve actually blacked out, I return to the shower and finish washing up. This summer might be the best of my life. I’m going to get to spend hours a day with Caleb, getting all the eye candy I could ever dream of. I promise myself, as I pull my pajamas on and put on my hairband to get ready for bed, that I’m going to make the most of it, teasing him while getting plenty of footage for my internal pleasure memories. “I’m gonna make you hard enough you won’t need a hammer to drive in any nails.” I chuckle before yawning. “See you soon.”

  I’m asleep before my head even hits the pillow.

  Chapter 11

  Caleb

  I sit in my truck, wiping my forehead with a towel as the air conditioner roars. I don’t mind working up a sweat, it’s part of my work, but damn if I don’t enjoy the feeling of a strong blast of chilly air after I get done with the day.

  Things weren’t too bad today. Everything was relatively routine. I had to rewire a garage, dropping in a new garage door opener and putting in another outlet to allow a chest freezer to be installed. Thank God I didn’t have to shove that fucker inside.

  I reach for my phone, knowing I don’t want to waste time, and dial Cassie. “Hello?” she answers.

  “Hey, short stuff,” I greet her, smiling as I lean back. “You ready to be my gopher?”

  Cassie growls. She doesn’t seem to like that word, which, of course, is why I’m using it. Still, she can’t say much. “Yeah, I’m free soon. What’s up?”

  “Need you to swing by the house and go over a few ideas,” I tell her. I’ve been by the house twice in the week since our celebration dinner, and Oliver told me to go ahead and roll on the repairs. But for all of his approval, it’s Cassie’s show on everything she wants to do . . . within reason. “I have a few ideas I want you to look at, especially the new kitchen and the color of the stain that you want me to use on the walnut flooring.”

  “So you’ve made all the choices then? This ain’t your show,” Cassie teases, and I run my fingers through my hair. Okay, so maybe I’ve gotten a little overzealous on it myself, but there’s something about helping Cassie and this project that’s exciting me a lot more than trimming someone’s hydrangea bushes.

  “Come on, Cass. You ready for this? We’ve got some work ahead of us, and I just want to be on top of things. You sure you can handle it?”

  “And what if I want to be on top?” Cassie retorts. In my jeans, my cock twitches again. I can’t help it. I don’t know what it was about seeing her so excited in Oliver’s office the morning she told us about the house, but it’s like a switch has been thrown in my brain. I can’t get her out of my head, and every tease she’s giving me is running straight to my cock and making me want to push the line with her just a little further than normal.

  Not that I can let her know I’ve been fantasizing about her nearly every night this past week. “When can you get there?”

  “I was already planning on heading over. I’m changing out of my work stuff. Ditching the skirt and blouse for jean shorts and a t-shirt. Keeping my sexy panties though.”

  Goddammit, now I’ve damn near got my cock hitting my steering wheel. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. What about you?”

  “Gimme twenty. I’ll stop and grab some dinner. See you,” Cassie says, the line going dead. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but my cock is still determined to help me drive, so I shift around enough that I’m not going to cause an accident before putting my truck in gear and driving out to the house.

  Douglas Street looks even more idyllic as I pull up, and 614 smells heavenly when I get out, inhaling the rich scent of the recently blooming flowers in the big unkempt acre of land out back. I take a moment and see the big empty chunk of concrete that used to be a garage, and while that would be a long-term project beyond what Cassie’s got in mind for this flip, my brain starts making plans.

  I’ve got enough time to change and wipe down a little before she pulls up, looking cute but also ready to work in a hip-hugging set of jeans shorts, hiking boots, and to top it off, a tied-off t-shirt that reads Hello, my name is HOTTIE.

  “Got dinner for you!” Cassie greets me chirpily as she bounces over, my eyes glued to her tanned legs. Oh, I so need to get her. “Check it out!”

  She holds up a plain brown box, setting it on the hood of my truck. “So what’s in the box?” I ask, and Cassie grins evilly, knowing what I’m talking about.

  “What’s in the box? What’s in the baaaaaahx?” Cassie imitates, her voice nothing at all like Brad Pitt’s but still effective, and I have to smile. She laughs before opening up the box. Chinese food.

  “I say we check out the house first, and we can talk moo goo gai pan later,” I reply, heading to the back door and opening up. “That is, if
you can handle the bad news?”

  “You’d be surprised what I can handle,” Cassie says, sashaying past me and running her fingernails over my shirt. “Nice shirt. Female Body Inspector? I mean, really?”

  Maybe I planned it, but I won’t tell. “It’s an old clean work shirt. All right, simmer down a notch. I can inspect you another time. I’ve got shit to show you, and it ain’t my dick.” We lock eyes, and there’s a new tension, making me think maybe she does want me to whip it out. But then I see her eyes twinkle, and the moment passes, both of us breaking out in laughter.

  Cassie rolls her eyes. “You won that round, but you’ve still got a lot of catching up to do. What do you need to show me?” she says, looking around the house, ready to get down to business.

  “Might as well start in here,” I say, leading her into the living room. “I started pulling up the carpet the other night—wanted to get a better idea on how bad the walnut floor was underneath—and while most of it’s good . . .”

  I show her the section that shares a wall with the downstairs bathroom, where water damage rings and warping are clearly evident. “This whole section will need to be replaced, which brings us to another problem.”

  “What?” Cassie says, squatting down. “The wood seems strong at least.”

  “Right up until the next rainstorm. That water is most likely from the bathroom pipes, which means I’ll need to totally redo the bathroom—walls, floors, all of it. It’ll take some work getting everything to look right if we’re sticking with hardwoods.”

  “You can handle it, right?” Cassie asks, turning around. She looks up at me with her big hazel eyes, biting her lip. “I do love the idea of the hardwood floors.”

  I swallow back my first thoughts about what her eyes are making me think of and nod. “Yes, but the stain would have to be carefully selected to make sure it blends the old and the new wood. We’ll have to sand the whole floor anyway, but that means a lot of time on your hands and knees with a sandpaper block to get the edges.”

  “Time on my hands and knees, huh?” Cassie asks, reassured, her sauciness coming back. “I bet you’d like that.”

  “Yeah, well, it gets worse,” I say, ignoring her comment even as my cock doesn’t. “The kitchen needs to be gutted— floors, cabinets, counters, the works. But first, I need to show you something back here in the bedroom.”

  I head for the stairs, intentionally skipping the second, which creaks, and I’m going to have to replace it. I can’t stand creaky steps. They remind me of haunted houses or something.

  Cassie chuckles. “Is that how you get all the ladies to your bedroom?”

  I look back over my shoulder, where I swear Cassie’s looking at my ass. It makes me smirk. “No, I’m more caveman than that. I just grunt. Woman. Bed. Now.” I growl, intentionally lowering my voice more. “And they tend to run that way.”

  “Hmm. I can see how that might work on some women. Especially the ones you gravitate toward. That’s probably all they can understand. Complete sentences are just a little beyond their capabilities, aren’t they?” She’s joking, a little, but if I’m honest, I’m not usually looking for a brilliant conversationalist in the women I see.

  We walk into the bedroom, and Cassie stares at the ladder extending up into the ceiling. “Uh, I don’t think that was there before. Why is there a new hole in my ceiling?”

  “Joke about your holes later, but if you look, there’s a water spot on the ceiling. Yeah, a wet hole,” I reply with a wink. “I uh . . . probed it to see how wet it was, and the ceiling panel just crumbled away. Climb up and see for yourself. The joists are water damaged too.”

  I gesture at the ladder, and Cassie carefully climbs up as I hold it steady. It’s hard, but the ladder literally puts her ass right in my face, and my mind floods with images of me bringing my head forward, grabbing her hips, and seeing what my tongue can find. Still, I keep my composure as her head disappears into the hole. Knowing my voice is probably already husky with desire, I clear my throat before telling her, “Look to the right. The cross beam is there.”

  “Can’t see much. It’s pretty dark,” she complains.

  “Here,” I reply, passing up my little penlight I keep on my keychain. She shines it around, and I hear her curse under her breath.

  “Is it the roof?” Cassie asks, her voice still muffled. “I don’t see any water there.”

  “No, the roof’s good. I got up there and checked that,” I tell her. “I’m guessing they fixed it but didn’t check here.”

  Her ass has been wiggling back and forth in front of my face as she tries to see the various areas of damage. I can’t help it. The hypnotic sway has me mesmerized, and my voice sort of catches in my throat. “Caleb?”

  “Huh?” I ask as Cassie peeks back down through the hole and catches me red-handed.

  “If you watch closely enough, it’ll do tricks.” She sways her hips back and forth again and then sticks it out, popping it a little like she’s on the dance floor. I watch her little show, enthralled by her before shaking off the effect she’s having on me. I laugh and give her a good smack on her right cheek. She lets out a cry of shock, rubbing her ass. “You did not just do that!”

  “Yes, I did. You deserved it. Get down here or I’ll do it to the other side so you have matching handprints.”

  Cassie climbs down, turning when she’s halfway down so that she can look me directly in the eyes, her voice dripping honey and her eyes twinkling. “Is that a promise or a threat? I can’t tell.”

  I pause, uncertain of how to respond. My cock knows what it wants, but I’m a little worried about crossing a line that, once we cross it, can’t be uncrossed. Still, she looks so hot in her outfit there on the ladder that I’m fighting the urge to pull her toward me, to grab her ass in my hands and see how far I can go. Finally, I swallow and step back, helping her off the ladder. “Come on, let’s eat the Chinese before it gets cold. And then we’ve got an errand to run.”

  Chapter 12

  Cassie

  I tuck the last of my eggroll in my mouth, trying my best to hide my frustration, but finally, as Caleb pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the engine, I can’t help it anymore. “Really, Home Depot? It’s Friday night and we’re at Home Depot. We might very well be failures of the human race.”

  “Failures?” Caleb asks, chuckling. “You’re getting what you need to grab your slice of the American dream, and doing it with your own two hands. What could be better than that?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. “You’re right.”

  Caleb chuckles. “I know I am. Now come on, let’s grab some wood.” We get out of the truck, Caleb coming around to make sure I can get down from my seat. “Then maybe later, you can grab mine?”

  I chuckle. That’s the Caleb I want to hear and enjoy hanging out with. Things have been feeling a little different lately. And honestly, my mind has been running a fantasy reel in my thoughts, mostly involving Caleb, that t-shirt, and not much else. “I don’t know. I have a date later. Bob might object.”

  Caleb stops and looks at me, and I swear I see a hint of jealousy. “You have a date? Who’s Bob? You haven’t mentioned him.”

  I stammer for a moment. “Uh, no, I don’t have a date. It was a joke.”

  “Then who’s Bob?”

  I raise my hands defensively, trying not to laugh that I’ve gotten another one over on Caleb. “Nobody, it’s just an expression.”

  “Don’t make me Google it . . . who’s Bob?” Caleb growls intensely. The look in his eyes . . . I’m starting to wonder.

  I can’t hold it back anymore. I start laughing hard. “It’s an acronym. B-O-B. Battery Operated Boyfriend.” I can see the realization dawn on his face, and then he lights up in a big ol’ shit-eating grin.

  “Hot damn, woman, that’s a show I’d pay money to see. What time’s your date?” he asks, playing along now. I blush and give him a little push, feeling his pecs under my palms, but he doesn’t move. He’s steady as a st
atue. He smiles and then grabs my hand, almost dragging me toward the lumber aisle.

  “Come on, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your very important date,” he says as he grabs a few 2 x 4s, placing them on a flatbed dolly. I stand motionless, watching the swell of his arms and shoulders as he picks up the heavy beams like they weigh nothing and noticing the little strip of skin that shows as his shirt rides up. He stands with his hands on his hips for a moment, obviously lost in thought. “Can you stay here with the cart for a minute? I need some screws from a couple of aisles back. I’ll be just a sec.”

  He walks off with a determined stride, and I find myself alone before I can even reply. I cross my arms, huffing and waiting. “Fine then, I’ll just entertain myself!” I call after him, but he doesn’t turn around.

  I stand there for fewer than ten seconds before a guy in an orange apron comes up, a smile on his face that looks like more than just friendly customer service. I swear, I see him look me up and down before meeting my eyes. “Hey there! Can I help you with something?”

  “No, thank you. Just waiting for my friend to come back,” I say, but it doesn’t seem like that’s enough to deter him.

  “I’m John. Doing some house work?”

  I smirk. This guy’s probably thinking that I’m over my head and that I don’t know a claw hammer from a screwdriver. “A ceiling repair project. We have to repair some joists before putting the new ceiling up.”

  “Wow,” John says. “The 2 x 4s are good for that, but have you considered using 2 x 6s? They distribute . . .” He continues to talk to me, obviously trying to chat me up, and while he’s cute, he’s not my type. But he gets an ‘A’ for effort in trying to be sly about it.