Fix Her Up (The Fix Book 1)

by Carey Heywood

  “Come on,” I cry, and then motion to his phone. “You can’t text and push.”

  Ignoring me, his thumb continues to move over his phone before he hits send and slips it back into his pocket. “All done.”

  Looking far too pleased with himself, he puts his hands on the handle and starts to push the cart.

  “You are such a pain.”

  He looks over his shoulder at me and winks. My mouth falls open and it takes me a few seconds to move. I meet him at the register. While I pay he pulls his phone back out.

  “Abby is in, and she’s picking up food,” he says as soon as we’re out the door.

  I grin at him, my earlier annoyance gone. “Let’s go.”

  When we get back to my house he carries my new rug in. Together we unroll it and shift it under my desk. I grab my folding chair from the den to finish the set up.

  “You still need a new chair.”

  I tilt my head to the side and agree, “I still need a new chair.”

  “Knock, knock!” Abby calls from the kitchen.

  “We’re in here!” I shout my answer.

  When she walks into the room I blink.

  Noah on the other hand speaks. “What did you do to your hair?”

  She frowns, lifting her hand towards her head. “I got bangs.”

  “Why?” Noah asks.

  I smack his stomach and snap, “Noah.”

  Abby’s face falls. “Do they look that bad?”

  I cross the room to her, and take the bag of food from her. “No one said they look bad.”

  Her fingers start to tug at them. “I thought they looked cute.”

  Noah makes a noise in his throat and I look over my shoulder to glare at him and mouth be nice. Then I turn Abby and usher her back toward the kitchen.

  “I like them.”

  “You do?” Noah asks making Abby groan.

  I ignore his terrible question and focus on Abby. “Don’t listen to him. What does he know about hair?”

  She looks up at me, a hopeful expression on her face. “You really like them?”

  I personally have never been a fan of bangs on myself. On her, they are cute. I think they’d look better swept to one side but there’s no way I’m telling her that now.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I don’t,” Noah unhelpfully adds from behind us.

  “Shut up!” I snap again.

  “No, he’s right. I shouldn’t have gotten them,” Abby moans before running to the bathroom.

  I set the bag of food on the nearest pile of boxes before turning on Noah to smack his arm. “Why would you say that?”

  He grabs my wrist when I go to smack him again, and then my other wrist when I try with that hand.

  Holding my hands between us he says, “I don’t lie to my sister.”

  I tug at my hands but he doesn’t let me go. “You could have been nicer about it.”

  “Why sugarcoat the truth?”

  My eyes widen. “What if I got bangs, would you tell me to my face that you didn’t like them?”

  His gaze stays locked on mine, studying my expression. “No.”

  “Because you know it would hurt my feelings?” I press.

  He nods, letting go of my hands. “And because anything would look good on you.”

  It would?

  His unexpected compliment releases a swarm of butterflies in my middle.

  “You need to go talk to her,” I stammer and then add, “be nice and tell her you’re sorry.”

  He pulls in a breath before nodding. Moving past me he goes to knock on the bathroom door. While he talks Abby into opening the door, I grab some paper plates and serve up the food Abby brought.

  Noah is good, he’s got her out of the bathroom and smiling by the time I’m finished. It’s fun having Abby join us for dinner. Watching how Noah interacts with her, even after the bangs debacle is sweet.

  I didn’t have any siblings growing up and envied the kids I knew who did. My cousin Heather and I were close, but it’s not the same.

  “When are you bringing her to mom and dad’s for dinner?” Abby surprises me by asking Noah. “Everyone wants to meet you,” she adds to me.

  “What? Why?” I sputter, putting down my plate.

  We moved a couple of the boxes to form a makeshift table we’re sitting around. The bistro table only has two chairs and is so small it wouldn’t work for the three of us.

  Abby blinks, and then blinks again. “Of course they want to meet you. They’re curious about who’s taking up all of his time.”

  “Don’t freak her out Abs,” Noah says before turning his gaze to me. “You don’t have to be nervous about meeting them.”

  My eyes bug and I look from Noah to Abby and then back to Noah. “Am I meeting them?”

  He reaches across the table to cover my hand with his. “If you want to. My mom wants to meet you but I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

  “I—I,” I stammer.

  “You don’t have to,” he says, his hand still on mine.

  I look over at Abby and she tries to assure me. “But you should. They’ll love you.”

  I gulp. “They’ll love me? Why will they love me? They don’t even know me.”

  “How about we talk about it more later. Look at all of these cabinets we need to assemble tonight.”

  My eyes move to the boxes Noah pointed at. There are a lot of them. Yes, I would prefer to focus on putting my kitchen together. Meeting Noah’s parents is freaking me out for some reason.

  “Yeah,” Abby adds. “We should probably get started on them.”

  “Okay,” I agree, pulling my hand out from under Noah’s, I stand.

  “I’ll clean up here,” Abby says. “Start opening those boxes.”

  “My box cutter is over there.”

  I see it and get to work.

  When the boxes were delivered, Noah and I grouped them by uppers, lowers and corners.

  “We should do the base cabinets first,” Noah says, coming to stand next to me.

  “Why?” I ask, not caring but preferring this subject.

  My gaze stays on the box I’m opening but I feel his eyes on me. “We measure the height of where the uppers go off the base cabinets.”

  “Why not from the ceiling?” I ask as he helps me lift the pieces from the box.

  The upper cabinets I ordered go all the way up to the ceiling.

  He shrugs, “Since ceilings aren’t always level we do it this way.”

  That has me straightening to look at his face. “Is my ceiling level?”

  His ocean blue eyes warm. “Yes, it is.”

  I quickly look back down at the box. “Just checking.”

  He softly chuckles beside me but I ignore it. With Abby’s help, we unpack each of the base cabinet boxes, careful not to mix them up. Abby starts working on one, not waiting for help from Noah and me.

  “Let’s work on this one together,” Noah suggests, directing me toward the pile closest to us.

  I read the first instruction aloud while Noah sifts through the pile to get the pieces we need. Noah wasn’t joking when he said Abby likes to assemble things. Even though she’s working alone, she starts putting together her second cabinet before we even finish our first.

  When we finish ours, I motion around the room. “Can we set them along the wall so I can see what they’ll look like?”

  “Of course,” Noah replies.

  I help him carry both cabinets over to the back wall while Abby keeps working. There’s a window overlooking the backyard where my sink will be centered beneath.

  I only plan to have cabinets along the back wall and the wall where the oven is to give my kitchen an open feel. The back wall is long enough that I’ll have plenty of storage.

  I’m not going to put in an island but I might get an old farm table to put in the center of the room for an extra prep area.

  “I have cabinets,” I grin, looking up at Noah.

  “You sure do.” He smile
s down at me.

  For some reason, his smile reminds me that his mother wants to meet me. Has he told her about me? If she wants to meet me that must mean he has. I wonder what he’s said. I hope she doesn’t think I’m taking advantage of him. Maybe that’s why she wants to meet me, to yell at me for using Noah. But, Abby said they’d love me and I’m not using Noah.

  “Why are you frowning?” Noah asks, a crease forming between his brows.

  I turn away, hoping he doesn’t notice my nervousness. By the bunch in his eyebrows, my guess is he knows.

  10

  Noah

  “When am I going to meet this woman you’ve been seeing?”

  All eyes turn to me. “She’s just my friend.”

  My mom pouts as she shrugs her shoulders. “Friends still need to eat.”

  “Abby’s met her. She’ll tell you, Finley can be shy.”

  Abby lifts her napkin to wipe her mouth before agreeing with me. “She is, Mom. And a bit of a homebody.”

  My mother ignores both of us. “I want to meet her.”

  I decide the only way to get her to focus on something else is to change the subject. “Is Asher coming?”

  It’s my dad who answers. “He didn’t say no.”

  My younger brother tries to come to our family dinners but has a habit of getting caught up in his work and losing track of time.

  Everyone else is here, including Brooke and the kids. Whether that means she’s moved back in with Eli, I don’t know.

  “Have you asked her if she’d like to come?” Gideon, being ever helpful brings the conversation back to Finley.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I mentioned Mom wanted to meet her.”

  “And she didn’t want to meet me?” My mom asks, pressing her hand to her chest.

  Not the reaction I was expecting.

  “No, Mom. It wasn’t like that. She got nervous so I dropped it,” I explain.

  “I don’t get what the big deal is,” Eli mutters.

  “Can we talk about something else?” I plead.

  “Yes,” Abby replies, then focuses her attention on the kids. “Are you guys ready for school to start?”

  In unison, they groan, making the rest of us laugh.

  Happy the focus is no longer on me, I watch my mom head to the kitchen and follow her.

  “Need any help?” I ask from the door.

  She turns, her hands on her hips. “She must be a good influence. You don’t normally offer to help me cook.”

  “Mom,” I warn.

  She waves me over and motions for me to lean down so she can kiss my cheek. “I’ll stop. I only push because I love you.”

  “I love you too Mom,” I murmur, straightening.

  Her face softens, and then she puts me to work.

  “Are you going to her house after dinner?” Eli asks during a conversation lull at dinner.

  “Yes,” I reply, leaving it at that.

  “What are you going to do when her house is finished?” He keeps going.

  As I glare at him, Abby answers. “They’re friends, E.”

  “Why do you care?” I ask, my eyes on my older brother.

  He frowns but doesn’t answer me.

  “Abby said she’s hot,” Gideon ventures into the conversation.

  Abby, who’s sitting to my right huffs, “I said beautiful.”

  “A woman calls another woman beautiful means a guy would call her hot,” Gideon explains.

  I can’t fault his logic until he adds, “maybe I should swing by her place to see if she needs any landscaping.”

  He stops laughing at his joke when I catch his eye.

  He lifts his hands, his smile still wide. “Still not into sharing your toys, I see.”

  Abby’s lip curls in disgust. “Please tell me you did not just imply women are toys.”

  He gives her a weak smile. Our sister has no fear, he might be seven inches taller than her but she’ll still kick his ass because she fights dirty.

  Brandishing her index finger like a sword she points at him. “Take it back and apologize to womankind.”

  His face remains turned to hers but he chances a side-glance to our mother. Gideon has gotten away with a lot over the years because he was the baby of the family. Insulting women appears to be an exception to this rule when he notices our mom’s face.

  With an aggravated sigh he grumbles, “I take it back and apologize for saying it in the first place.” He then gives Abby his best impression of puppy dog eyes and asks, “Still love me?”

  Abby pulls back her hand. “Yes, though I question my sanity for it.”

  Thankfully, my relationship with Finley doesn’t come up again for the rest of dinner. That streak ends not long after when I try to make my goodbyes.

  “Hurry back to her like a good little dog,” Eli sneers.

  I look up at the ceiling in the hopes of finding some patience up there. All I see is my parents’ ceiling could use a fresh coat of paint.

  I look back down at Eli and ask, “Why is it such a big deal where I spend my time?”

  “She’s using you and you don’t even care,” he snaps.

  I drag my hand down my face, so sick of not only his assumptions about her but also the fact that he doesn’t think I can take care of myself.

  “She’s not like that,” Abby argues before I can.

  I rest my hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “No point trying to talk sense into him. I don’t care what he thinks. I’m leaving.”

  “Noah, don’t let some chick lead you around by your dick,” Eli grumbles.

  He may have meant for only me to hear it but his voice carried with his emotion.

  We all turn at Brooke’s gasp. Her gaze is on Elijah, a pained expression in them.

  “Come on kids,” she murmurs, turning to usher the kids out of the room.

  “Brooke,” Eli, groans, following her.

  She doesn’t stop though, and when he reaches her she shakes off his hold.

  “Why does he have to be such an asshole?”

  I shake my head. “Guess it comes natural.”

  Abby turns to give me a hug. “Sorry bro.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “You should swing by Finley’s place sometime soon. You won’t recognize it.”

  “I might. She texted me some pictures yesterday.”

  I let her go, shouting a goodbye to our folks. “Pictures don’t do it justice. Stop over, okay?”

  She nods and promises to come by.

  Once I’m in my truck I text Finley to let her know I’m on my way. During my drive, Eli’s words replay in my head. I know Finley isn’t using me. That doesn’t mean I haven’t wondered what will happen to our friendship once the work to her house is done.

  I’ve been using her house as the excuse to see her. Once that excuse is gone, where will I be? Granted, the work to her house won’t be done anytime soon, and when it is I can always talk her into building a garage.

  When I park in front of her place, I sit in my truck for a minute to look at it. The lights are on in both of the front rooms.

  She needs curtains or blinds, you can see right in. She’s not in either room. If I had to guess, she’s in her kitchen. Ever since we put her appliances in, she’s been obsessed.

  No more takeout dinners for either of us, she’s been cooking up a storm. Knowing that, it’s sad to see her dining room empty. She should be throwing dinner parties, not just cooking for me.

  I climb down from my truck and skip the front door to go knock on her kitchen door.

  “Something smells good,” I greet when she lets me in.

  “I made brownies,” she smiles. “How was dinner with the family?”

  She’s watching me more closely than normal so I ask, “Did Abby talk to you?”

  Her eyes widen before she quickly averts them.

  I close the door behind me and lean back against it. “Dinner had its moments.”

  Her gaze moves back to mine. “Abby call
ed.”

  I nod. “I figured she would.”

  “Why does your brother hate me?”

  Pushing off of the door I close the distance between us. “He’s over protective and going through shit so he needs to put attention on someone else, right now that happens to be me.”

  “It’s my fault for not coming tonight, isn’t it?”

  I had invited her. When she found out everyone was coming she got nervous so I told her not to worry about it.

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  She nods but doesn’t look convinced.

  “Let me worry about my family.”

  She frowns then straightens. “I’d like to meet your mom.”

  I laugh at her expression. “You look like you’d rather have a root canal.”

  That has her cracking a smile and I decide to change the subject. “You need curtains.”

  She blinks. “I do?”

  I nod. “You can see right into the house.”

  I bite back a laugh when she ducks and screeches. “Right now?!”

  I reach for her hand. “Let’s go buy you some curtains. We can hang them up tonight.”

  Originally, we were going to continue our work upstairs. So far we’ve already gutted everything, laid down her new subfloor and put in her new master bath.

  While I miss her coming over to use mine, she really wanted to be able to shower in her own home, so we focused on it. We still need to install the drywall and floors for every other room up there.

  “I was thinking about getting wooden blinds,” she presses her lips together before blowing out a breath like she doesn’t want to admit what’s about to come out of her mouth. “I read somewhere people who break into houses don’t like them.”

  Even the thought of someone breaking into her house makes my blood boil. I want to tell her I’ll never let that happen. “Start with curtains for now and we’ll install the blinds after we put in your new windows.”

  Her head jerks back. “I’m not planning to replace the windows anytime soon.”

  “You need new ones.”

  She frowns. “I do not.”

  “Why do you always have to argue?” I counter.

  When she crosses her arms over her chest, all it does is pull my attention to the valley between her breasts. “I’m the boss, remember?”