Matchmaker

by Lauren Landish

  “Uh-huh,” I say, hiding my surprise at her choice of words. “Oh, one thing, though, and this is non-negotiable.”

  “What’s that?” Cassie asks warily, taking another bite of burger. “I’m glad to pay.”

  “No, not that. If I’m going to keep my other customers happy, Oliver happy, and somehow get that house done before you’re ready to retire, it’s going to mean working weekends. And not farting around for a few hours Saturday morning and then cutting out to go shopping type of work. I mean getting down and dirty for eight hours a day on weekends. But I want you there helping, either as my assistant or as my gopher.”

  “Gopher?” Cassie asks. “Hey, I’ll have you know that the braces cured that very well!”

  I shake my head, laughing. “That’s not what I mean. I mean if there’s something you can’t really help me with, you can be ready to get me any tools I need.”

  Cassie nods. “I know what you meant. This is my first solo project, and I have money riding on this just like Oliver does. What do you think I’m going to do, sit at home while you do everything? But are you sure about working weekends? Don’t you have plans?”

  “Don’t have much going on right now,” I admit.

  Cassie looks at me in surprise. “What about that brunette you picked up at the grocery store? She looked very interested in you.”

  I laugh ruefully. “Susannah? We went out twice. Then she bought me a candle. Patchouli, with a picture of a kitten on the thing. Noped the fuck outta that quick, fast, and in a hurry.”

  Cassie bursts out laughing. “Over a candle? You ditched her over a candle? I mean, it’s a pretty horrible idea for a candle, but to break up with her over it?”

  I chuckle, shrugging. “It’s a power move. She’s trying to girly up my place so that when someone else comes over, she’s marked her territory. I am not getting tied up like that.”

  “Not tied up like that, but how about other ways? I might have some pink fluffy handcuffs just your size. And I damn sure know how to use silk ropes,” she says as she licks her straw. “You’d be sure to enjoy it.”

  I smirk. That’s the Cassie I’ve come to know and appreciate. I just have to make sure I don’t end up with milkshake on my head. Instead, I give her a wink. “Now that, I might consider. Depends on what you’re gonna do if I were at your mercy?”

  Cassie looks me in the eye with a glint of mischievousness and takes a long draw of her shake, hollowing her cheeks. She swallows with an audible gulp and then licks her lips to catch a tiny drop left in the center of her top lip. I can’t help it. My eyes widen and I feel my cock swell in my jeans, and I know I’m in trouble. I mean, I’ve always known Cassie was cute, but now . . . goddammit, I’m in trouble if she’s just joking.

  Cassie waits just a beat and then speaks up “Game. Set. Match. Winner, Cassie White. And the crowd goes wild.” She mimics a crowd cheering. Dammit, I should have known she was still being a wiseass.

  Chapter 10 - Cassie

  As the water splashes over my shoulders, easing away the stress and excitement of the day, I sigh gratefully. I’ve always been a nighttime shower girl. Glad I’m not a man who needs to shave in the morning. I like being able to roll out of bed fifteen minutes before I have to go if need be. Not to mention, the warmth and massaging pulse of the water hitting me in that perfect spot between the base of my neck and my shoulder blades is one of the best ways to relax me enough to sleep. And other places, sometimes.

  And boy, did I have a day that has me both keyed up and exhausted. I review the meeting with the homeowner in my head as I pick up my washcloth and start scrubbing down my body. It couldn’t have gone better, and I don’t think I could’ve gotten a better deal. As soon as I got the man’s number on how much he paid his brother to take the property off his hands, I upped it by only ten percent, and he accepted. Even with that, I’m going to get the house for at least thirty percent under local market value.

  It needs a lot of work, though, and I’m gonna need Caleb for most of the projects. I’ll have to get him to block out his schedule for several weeks so that we can hit the market before summer ends. He’s going to be a lifesaver, and ‘Mr. Fix-It’ could just be my ticket to turning this project into something that’ll make me feel good and give me a little money to top it off. I know I teased him tonight—I always do—but I don’t think I could do this without him.

  As I think about Caleb, I flash back to when he walked into the house tonight. I know I gave him a little look about showing up like that, but holy fuck, he was walking sex on a stick. I know some women like clean-cut, suit-and-tie kinda guys, but not me. Give me the man who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty any day, his hair messed up from hard work and a day’s worth of stubble shadowing his cheeks, and I’m just about ready to fall back and spread my legs. Add in smelling like he just spent the past eight hours busting his ass and is ready to spend some well-deserved downtime with his woman? Oh, fuck, yes.

  When Caleb took his shirt off, I almost drooled down my chin. I know he works out a lot. Hell, we’ve gone for runs together most Sundays since I got on a health kick a while back. The healthy eating might not have stuck because burgers are the angels’ sustenance, but the runs are awesome. But runs don’t give you a damn eight-pack. Yes, eight. I know because I’ve counted them.

  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 finger
s, 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 lo
oking 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?”