Page 6 of Nailing Studs
Oh, right—that. Somehow I’d mistaken an eighty-five-year-old woman’s voice for that of a woman in her late thirties. Mrs. McGraw had turned out to be a great client, though. “I thought we said we’d never talk about that again.” I shot him a look.
Dom snorted. “I don’t want to meet the woman heartless enough to skip her great-aunt’s funeral then get rid of the Vanderzee house as soon as she’s able to. Tabitha wanted her niece to keep it. She told practically everybody in town.”
“Bro, I said she might sell it. Calm down, get laid or something. Your attitude sucks.”
“I’m not going.”
“Hey, Dom?”
“What?”
“The Fix-It Guys is plural, buddy. Tomorrow, we’re going over there together.”
True to form, Dom flipped me off as he stomped out of the office. I just grinned.
4
Kayla
The knock at the door woke me.
My eyes flew open, and I sat straight up. “Damn.” I fumbled for my phone and saw my alarm never went off. Could be I hadn’tset it because I'd been too tired last night from traveling. Or, more likely, I’d been too busy getting off fantasizing about the Fix-It Guys’ models doing me at the same time. I snorted and shook my head. Either way, it didn’t matter, because someone was at the door and I needed to hustle.
Another knock, louder than before.
“I’m coming!” I called out.
I glanced out the window and saw the truck with the Fix-It Guys’ logo, complete with the same two male models from their website banner. It was a little weird, seeing pictures of Mister Trustworthy, and Dark and Broody, my fantasy lovers, plastered on the side of the truck in the bright light of day. For a moment, I imagined one of them actually being outside my front door, but then I reminded myself the images of the men werefor show, despite how sexy Taylor had sounded on the phone yesterday.
“Get a grip, Kayla. Besides, you’re through with real men, remember? Guys that hot are good for naughty fantasies, but that’s it.” I stared up at the ceiling for a second, wanting nothing but to pull the covers over my head and sleep for a while longer—more like block out the reality that lay before me—but another knock sounded. With a sigh, I got out of bed.
It’d been hot during the night, and I had onpanties and a thin T-shirt. I grabbed the same jeans I’d arrived in and pulled them on, not worrying about a bra for now. Despite how curvy and padded my ass and hips were, I was fairly small on top.
The repairman pounded at the door.
“I said one minute!” I called through the house. Barefoot, I ran downstairs in under four seconds. Catching sight of myself in the foyer mirror, I flattened my hair that had somehow turned into a tangled rat’s nest overnight. Yep, I looked as though I’d been dragged backward through a hedge.
Through the stained glass panels on either side of the door, I saw two large silhouettes.
I opened the door and caught my breath.
Holy Gods of Construction.
The same two men from the image in the Fix-It Guys logo stared back at me. Was this a joke?
I gulped, fightingagainst the sudden rush of arousal flooding my body. Nope, this was not a joke. The men in the photo were the actual Fix-It Guys—the same men I’d fantasized about having a threesome with.
“I’m Taylor. You must be Kayla. We spoke yesterday,” the one standing closest to the door said. He had blue eyes and brown hair, short on the sides, long on top, and at least two days of stubble. Taylor. In my fantasy last night, I’d called him Mister Trustworthy, and in real life, the name fit. He seemed so wholesome, so…open. Trustworthy. And the epitome of a sexy contractor—he even wore a flannel shirt like the renovation guys on HGTV and his jeans fit him so, so well.
Yeah, I noticed, alright.
I noticed his voice, too—smooth and velvety and oh so deep, the way he’d sounded on the phone. My knees wobbled,and I ordered myself to focus.
Taylor jerked a thumb at the guy standing next to him, tool belt around his waist, clipboard under his arm. “This is my partner, Dominic.” He frowned. “You are Kayla Pratchett, right?”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t think of the right answer. What had he asked? “Yes, I’m Kayla, but…” But what?
Neither of you are what I expected, I almost said, but caught myself. I’d been the idiot who’d assumed the insanely attractive men on the website were models, not the real thing.