Page 7 of Nailing Studs

I glanced at Dominic. Alittle shorter than Taylor, Dom wasequally broad and muscular in the shoulders, with short dark hair and the most beautiful golden brown eyes I’d ever seen. He caught my gaze with his, then quickly looked away, not allowing the eye contact to linger. Something deep and dark lay hidden there—the nickname Dark and Broody fit him as well as his tight Levi jeans—and the haunted expression he wore triggered a desire in me to wrap my arms around him and promise him whatever was causing him pain would someday fade away.

Wow. I really needed to get my head out of dreamland and back to reality. These men were here to help me fix a leak, not satiate all my hidden fantasies.

“But?” Taylor asked.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my thoughts aside. So, they were hot. Did that mean I had to be rude and forget my manners? I stepped back and let them in. “Come on in,” I said, my voice going low and husky. God, simply saying that made me feel slutty in all the best ways possible.

I stepped back, they stepped forward, and suddenlytwo tall bodies and masculinity in work boots filled the foyer. I felt so very small in comparison. And all rumpled, frizzy, and braless, too.

There wasn’t much I could do about my hair, but I folded my arms across my chest. “Sorry about the wait. I overslept.”

“No worries,” Taylor said. “So, you’re Tabitha’s niece. Nice to meet you.” He held what looked like a shiny new faucet in one hand but stuck out his free hand, forcing me to lower my arms to take it or appear rude.

“Hi.” I glanced at Dominic again.

“Hey,” the man said, his tone gruffer, not as friendly as Taylor’s. He seemed to hesitate, then his strong shoulders and muscles flexed as he reached out to shake my hand, too.

I almost flinched at how hot and hard his hand felt in mine before I pulled away. When he cocked a brow, I cleared my throat and joked, “You two aren’t smiling like in your picture on your truck. I want my money back.”

Taylor laughed, nudging Dominic with an elbow. “See? She has Tabitha’s sense of humor. Give the lady a smile, Dom.”

“Or we could get to work. Time is money,” Dominic said roughly. He seemed unimpressed with my attempt at humor and annoyed he had to deal with me, though he was not remiss in noticing my lack ofbra. To his credit, he flicked his gaze away as soon as he realized he was staring at my chest.

As my body did crazy things inside, I cleared my throat and said, “So, uh…I can show you where the kitchen is.”

“We can find our own way,” Dominic said.

Now it was me who cocked a brow at him. Why was he giving me such disapproving, judgmental looks?

I caught Taylor giving his friend a brotherly what the fuck is wrong with youface before he smiled at me. “Dom hasn’t had his coffee. Thank you for showing us in.”

“No problem. The sink is over here.” I walked them through the house.

Taylor immediately started touching walls and railings with his free hand. I imagined that was part of the job, to capture a house’s essence, its sturdiness and its need for loving care. He mumbled to himself,already identifying what the home needed as we made our way to the kitchen.

“So, this is the sink.” I pointed to the offending fixture as if Taylor couldn’t figure it out for himself. “I turned it on and the handle came off. Water sprayed everywhere, splashing the entire ceiling and floor. I managed to turn the valve off. Then I called you.”

“You take care of this, and I’ll start assessing the rest of the house?” Dominic asked Taylor, who nodded. Dominic gave me an undecipherable look before spinning on a heel and heading off down the hall.

I pondered over what I’d said since they first walked in the door. Surely I couldn’t have offended Dom that terribly to deserve such an icy stare. I’d asked for a smile, I guess. Maybe he had some incurable disease where he couldn't smile and I'd hit a sore spot. Or perhaps he really liked guessing where a sink was in each new house and I’d ruined the fun, an unforgivable sin. Or maybe he was just an asshole.

A really hot asshole I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

“Well, he’s a grumpy one,” I muttered to Taylor, the really hot non-asshole.

That would be a pleasant change for once, eh, Kayla? A non-asshole in your life? Imagine that.

Taylor got down on the ground and opened up the sink cabinet. Watching him on his back with his leg extended and the other knee bent somehow felt personal, as if I should look away.

“Don’t mind him,” Taylor said, his velvet voice muffled. “Dom’s going through a hard time.”

“Oh?”

Taylor crawled back out from under the counter. “His fiancée recently left him. They were together for a couple of years. He’ll get over it.”

I could see Dom through the door to the kitchen as he tested the oak railing that lined the great winding staircase in the foyer. He moved silently, diligently, gripping each rail with strong, weathered hands. Asurge of compassion washed over me.

Maybe Taylor didn’t understand, but I did. You don’t just “get over it.” A breakup, especially a bad one, changes a person. The ghost of the woman who'd hurt him lingered around Dom as he worked. He couldprobably still hear her words whispered in his ear at night. Still catch the scent of her perfume on a busy street. Still remember the way the door sounded the last time she closed it.