A Good Man

by Rosanna Leo

  “I’m glad you’re coming. We won’t keep you out partying all night long. I promise.”

  “Hmm.” Emily stopped glaring at Trent’s imaginary exhaust fumes and looked at Michael. “Who says I won’t keep you out partying all night long?”

  Three matching grins met her gaze.

  “This one’s trouble,” said Eli.

  “Knew it when I met her,” replied Nick.

  “Come on, Trouble.” Michael took her hand and curled it around his elbow. “One of our haunts is just around the corner, within stumbling distance. So if we have too much fun, we can all crash at Nonna’s place and still be fresh for tomorrow.”

  Emily tried to come back with a witty comment, but they all dried up in her throat when she considered having a sleepover with Michael and his brothers.

  She had the sneaking suspicion that she’d arrived at a new milestone with Trent, one she wouldn’t celebrate in her later years. She’d disagreed with him in public. Of course, he had made a silly suggestion in telling her to go home and rest. Last she’d checked, she was still thirty-two, not seventy-five.

  One thing was clear. It wasn’t so much that he wanted her to take a breather. He just didn’t want her associating with Michael.

  Did he suspect she had a fascination for the contractor?

  It didn’t matter. She hadn’t done anything wrong and wasn’t planning on ruining her relationship with Trent.

  Only, more and more, she was beginning to wonder if she even had one.

  Chapter Six

  “Emily, won’t you play with me? No one else will.”

  Louie might look like a two-hundred-pound cherub, but Michael recognized the devil beneath the wide eyes and dimpled cheeks. He shook his head as the cameraman tried to hustle Emily.

  “Aw, why won’t anyone play foosball with you?” Emily asked.

  “Because he’s a shark, that’s why.” Michael tapped Louie’s chest in accusation. “Anytime the crew comes to the Arcade Bar, Louie finds a new victim. He’s cheated everyone here out of hard-earned cash. The man should go to Vegas and make a living out of it.”

  “It’s foosball.” Louie threw up his hands. “How can I cheat at foosball? Either the little man hits the little ball or he doesn’t.”

  Michael laughed. “Don’t believe him, Em. He’ll ask you to make a small wager to make it interesting and next thing you know, you’ll be out front in tatters, crying, ‘Alms for the poor.’”

  Emily grimaced. “Too rich for my blood. Sorry, Louie.”

  “I’ll take you on.” Eli downed the remains of his lager and stood. “I need to get you back for the last time you swindled me. Let’s do this, big guy.”

  A few from their team went to cheer Eli on as he confronted Louie the Foosball King.

  “Thanks for saving me,” Emily said to Michael. “With this renovation, I don’t think I can afford to lose.”

  “What about a game of Skee-Ball? My treat.”

  “This place has Skee-Ball too? The Arcade Bar is officially my favorite hangout now.”

  Michael pointed to the far corner of the pub. “See the red lights? Think you can beat me?”

  She put down her empty glass. “Oh, I know I can beat you.”

  “Them’s fighting words, woman.” Michael led her over to the Skee-Ball station. Luckily, the bar was quiet this evening. He had been hoping to isolate Emily so he could talk about what he’d witnessed earlier in the day. Call him suspicious, but he just didn’t trust Trent to tell her the truth.

  He put a couple of coins into the coin dispenser and motioned for Emily to take the first round. It wasn’t just chivalry that prompted him to offer her the first turn. For the most part, he also wanted to choose his words.

  She bent over and picked a ball.

  Taking the second turn also allowed him to check out her hot body undisturbed.

  She held up her ball like a professional bowler and narrowed her eyes at the target. “Watch me now.”

  “Oh, I’m watching.”

  “I’m going to get a hundred points.”

  Stepping back, she tossed her ball up the lane. The ball dropped into the lowest receptacle, earning zero points.

  “Oh, shit!” Emily covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. “That was a practice shot.”

  “Of course it was. Feel free to take another.”

  “Let me guess. When it comes to Skee-Ball, you’re another Louie?”

  “I’ve had my moments, but I won’t embarrass you just yet.” As she continued to play, Michael decided to forge ahead. “Em, there’s something I want to say to you, and I’m not sure how to say it.”

  “Seeing as the Skee-Ball scouts aren’t headed my way any time soon to offer me a professional Skee-Ball job, I guess I can take a minute to hear you out.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say.”

  “Is it something to do with the renovation? Let me guess. A sponsor pulled out.”

  “No, everything at the house is good to go. It’s about Trent.”

  As soon as he said those words, her face changed and the light went out of her eyes. “I figured as much. What’s he done now?”

  More like who he’s done. “I went looking for him earlier today and overheard him on a phone call. I didn’t hear much, but I heard enough to know Trent isn’t being honest with you about something important.”

  “I’m going to stop you right there.” She put her ball down. She took a deep breath and cracked a smile. “Michael, I’m having a really good time tonight, the best I’ve had in a while. In fact, I’m not ready for it to end.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Then I hope you’ll understand I’m not trying to play ostrich here. I’m not the sort of person to run from my problems, but the fact is I’ve had nothing but problems lately where Trent is concerned. I don’t think I can process another one just yet. At least, not while standing next to a Skee-Ball machine.”

  “Okay.”

  “Does Trent know you heard his conversation?”

  “Yeah. I spoke to him and told him he needed to talk to you or I would.”

  “And he obviously hasn’t spoken with me.” Her nostrils flared. “I’ll just ask you one thing. Did you overhear him on the phone with his doctor? Is he dying?”

  It figured she’d be worried about him. “No, he’s not dying, at least not that I know.”

  “Okay. Here’s what I’m going to do. Whatever it is, I’m going to give Trent some time to tell me. He’ll get the benefit of my doubt for now. But, Michael,” she said, laying her hand on his arm, “whatever it is, I won’t forget you came to me first.”

  “I was hoping he would have by now.”

  “I appreciate that, and I’m sorry he put you in a position, but can we just forget about Trent right now?”

  He wanted nothing more. “You bet.”

  She handed him a ball. “Here. Take your best shot.”

  Michael smoothed his fingers over the ball, wishing he could touch her cheek instead. His attraction to her kept popping up, distracting him like the rodent in a Whack-A-Mole game. He turned to the lane, readied his shot and tossed the ball.

  It hopped into the one-hundred-point receptacle. Great. He still felt like a big, fat zero, but at least he received some satisfaction in imagining the ball was Trent’s head.

  “Look at you.” Emily bumped him with her hip. “You’re on your way to being the big winner after all.”

  Oh, yeah. Huge winner. He might win the game, but Emily would still go home to Trent tonight. She would slide into bed next to that ingrate, wrap her body around his and whisper ‘I love you,’ before falling asleep in his arms.

  Somehow, winning a round of Skee-Ball didn’t feel like much of a consolation.

  * * * *

  “Are you ready to take down a wall?” Michael asked, walking up the driveway toward Emily the next morning.

  “Yes, sir.”

  If anything, Emily was ready to
take down the whole freaking neighborhood.

  Trent hadn’t called all night long, not to tell her about his mysterious conversation, and not even to let her know how his networking had gone. She’d awoken in a fury after very little sleep, and was now of the opinion that she’d already lost too much sleep because of her fiancé.

  Thank heavens the universe had provided an opportunity to smash something today. It was demolition day at the house, at least for one of the interior walls, and she couldn’t wait to get started.

  Her anger at Trent made her more aware of Michael’s charms. She tried not to stare openly, but he commanded her gaze with his confident stride and molten-chocolate eyes. He was wearing the same sort of outfit he always wore on Handymen. Jeans that fit well, work boots and a long-sleeved tee that did nothing to camouflage his muscles. Despite the casual wear, he stood out and claimed her attention. Everything and everyone around him seemed to fade away.

  Michael came to within inches. Only then did she spy the concern in his eyes. “How was your evening?”

  “Quiet and long.”

  “Is Trent here?”

  “Not yet.”

  “And he hasn’t been in touch?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m sorry, Em.”

  “Yeah. Me too. How was your evening?”

  “I didn’t sleep well.”

  “Oh, Michael. I’m sorry if this kept you up.”

  “Thanks, but it wasn’t just the issue with Trent. I haven’t been sleeping well for a while.”

  Upon hearing that, her worries about Trent flew out of the window. “Anything I can do?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I hope you sleep better tonight.”

  “Thanks.” Michael grinned. “Let’s head inside.”

  What would cause Michael to sleep poorly? She hoped it wasn’t stress over her renovation. He claimed it was going smoothly, but perhaps it was just too big a project.

  Giving herself a mental wrist slap, she tried to stop obsessing over Michael’s lack of sleep. She didn’t have the luxury of sorting out his problems when she could barely sort her own, never mind Trent’s.

  She checked her phone for any last-minute messages from her fiancé, but there were none. He should have been at the house by now and he certainly should have spoken to her about his conversation with Michael. What could Michael possibly have overheard? Emily realized now that she shouldn’t have avoided the issue at the bar the previous evening, but something had told her it wasn’t good, and she just hadn’t been prepared to hear it.

  But after a fitful sleep and hours of wondering, she was ready.

  Only now, she had to banish her curiosity. As soon as Trent arrived and they found a quiet moment, she’d confront him and demand answers.

  Now, she had to devote her attention to the task at hand. Michael’s plan involved a demolition of the interior wall that separated the foyer and the living space. Her grandmother’s house had been built before open-concept floor plans were popular, and the main floor, with its enclosed rooms, felt tight and cramped by today’s standards. The floor plan might have worked for a house, but would never do for a retail space.

  Emily had discussed the demolition with Michael weeks before, but now that the hour was upon her, old nerves resurfaced. Although the Handymen crew knew what they were doing, she still had visions of her grandmother’s house tumbling down around them, pinning her under a heap of rubble.

  Michael had already proven himself capable of recognizing her fears this morning, and he did so again. He pulled her aside. “Before I allow anyone in the crew to pick up a sledgehammer, I’m going to prove to you the house won’t collapse. Come with me.” He led her upstairs, to the room directly above the wall. “I’ll show you how I know this isn’t a load-bearing wall. First of all, we have open space above the wall we want to demolish. This tells me it’s not supporting any beams or other walls. When I checked the blueprints, I was also able to verify it’s not a load-bearing wall.” He smiled. “So you’re safe.”

  With me. She could almost hear the words he hadn’t voiced.

  Don’t be so silly. You’re getting carried away by being on a TV set. This ain’t The Bachelor and you’re not holding a rose, sister.

  Standing so close to him, Emily had yet another chance to admire his eyes. Dark brown and warm, the skin around them crinkled when he smiled.

  She’d always been a sucker for a good eye crinkle.

  “Thanks, Michael. I appreciate your explanation.”

  “No sweat.”

  He had taken a few minutes out of his hectic schedule to let her know that he cared what happened to the house and to her, while her fiancé couldn’t even call to say hello. Emily couldn’t disregard the fact that Michael and Trent inspired very different feelings in her. The discrepancies between the two men, now glaring, made her want to imagine that things were different. She couldn’t help wishing the spark in Michael’s eyes was more than friendliness and professionalism. It certainly seemed that way when she caught him looking at her.

  “I hope you feel better about the demolition,” he said, interrupting her reverie.

  “I do. You’re a good guy, you know that?”

  “Just doing my job.”

  He hadn’t just been ‘doing his job’ when he’d rescued those children in that daycare a year ago. Although Emily had read all the reports in the papers, she remained intrigued, especially now that she’d met the man. She didn’t have the heart to ask him about the incident. After all, a woman had been killed—it was bound to be a difficult topic for him. Michael could have been shot as well, but he’d overpowered the assailant before he could do any more damage. Anyone involved would no doubt still feel the effects of the tragedy. Did Michael? Was it why he had trouble sleeping? Emily wished she could inquire, but she didn’t want to overstep.

  She supposed all she really needed to know was that a good man had been there at the right time and had done what he’d needed to do.

  Her feelings for him, her curiosity, had started to scare her. All last night, while Trent kept her in the dark, Emily had been tortured by thoughts of Michael as well. The worst part was seeing a matching curiosity in his eyes and not being able to do anything about it.

  That heat scared her. She barely knew this man and she felt consumed, blistered, by attraction. Throughout yesterday, it had taken every ounce of her fortitude not to stare dreamily at him, and all while her fiancé stood in the next room, sulking by the craft service table.

  By the time everyone was ready to start the wall demolition, Trent still hadn’t arrived. Emily had texted him several times to no avail.

  “I can’t wait any longer,” Lacey finally declared. “Guys, take the wall down.”

  Mortified because the demolition was just one more thing she had to do alone, Emily inched closer to Michael.

  “It’s okay.” He put a hand on her lower back. “I’ll help you through it.”

  “Thanks.”

  He handed her a pair of safety goggles and helped her adjust them over her head, doing the same with his own pair. “Your bangs are caught in the strap. Let me fix it.”

  His fingers loosened the strap so he could free the strands of hair. Although he had large hands, roughened by hard work, they felt soft against her skin. Gentle and kind, like him. Michael gazed into her eyes as he fixed her hair around her forehead and her breaths became shallow as she met his gaze.

  “There.” He grinned. “You look like Mr. Magoo when he puts his glasses on.”

  “Perfect. That’s just the look I was going for today.”

  “Don’t worry. Mr. Magoo was never as hot as you are.”

  She laughed out loud, but mostly because her gelatinous legs wouldn’t allow her to concentrate on being called ‘hot’ by one of Canada’s hottest men.

  For the cameras, everyone would take a swing with the sledgehammers. Because Emily owned the house, Michael had invited her to take the first shot, handing h
er a daintier implement, one that wouldn’t wrench her arm out of its socket. As Emily contemplated the wall, Michael positioned himself behind her.

  He put his hands on her shoulders, helping her square them, then lightly rested his hands on her waist. “That’s it. Feet apart. Back straight. Now give it a good whack, Em.”

  As Michael stepped back, Emily’s body betrayed her. She hoped her boobs wouldn’t end up in the shot, because she was sure her nipples were poking through her shirt. Hearing him voice her nickname gave her an intimate thrill, but his touch had proven even more explosive.

  She wanted him to touch her again and hated herself for wanting it.

  Annoyed at her warring emotions, she swung and landed a resounding crack on the wall. The drywall crumbled and the crew let up a whoop. Elated, she took another swing. This time, a piece of the frame came loose.

  “Yes!” When Emily shouted in joy, everyone laughed. She looked around, embarrassed but thrilled. “Maybe I should stop while I’m ahead. This is a little too much fun.”

  In truth, she’d hurt her shoulder on the last swing. When she rotated it, it popped as new muscles were strained. Emily put the sledgehammer down, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

  Michael was right. Demolitions could be therapeutic, although perhaps it was a bad idea to envision Trent as she drove a heavy implement into the wall.

  The cameras picked up the action as Michael took a turn at the wall. He picked up a heavy-looking sledgehammer, pointed his finger at a spot of drywall like Babe Ruth preparing a hit and swung. As he moved, his shoulder muscles danced. Emily had to force herself not to stare at his toned physique.

  Lacey wanted footage of all the Zorn brothers attacking the wall, no doubt to appease all their respective fans with displays of unrelenting virility. When Michael was done, Eli and Nick prepared to take swings, donning safety goggles.

  In the meantime, Michael returned to Emily’s side. He must have noticed her rubbing her shoulder and pulled her out of frame. She raised her safety goggles.