Page 7 of Shock to the Heart

"So after that dries, we paint?"

"Not quite. I'm doing really thin coats so it'll dry faster overall. Since people apparently bash into this wall a lot, it's going to need two coats, then sanding, then painting."

He pulls out a bunch of paint chips. "We're going to need your flashlight again to match this tint. Since the wall hanging takes up a lot of the space, and the lights are usually dim, there's a chance they won't even notice that this wall has been painted."

We compare the chips to the existing wall using the overhead light, the light from his phone, and the light from the flashlight. Luckily, one of the chips is extremely close.

"Now what?" I ask.

Trey sets the fan to blow gently on the patch. "We have several hours. May I take you out to lunch?" His smile is unbelievably sexy. "As a general rule, we're supposed to keep the client entertained and fed."

"Really? I didn't know that electricians provided that service."

"Well, it's a rule I made up just now."

"And you're just allowed to make up rules because…?"

Trey wags a finger at me. "Because I am currently the man of this house, and what I say…" He can't finish before sputtering out a laugh. "Sorry, that was awful."

I try to glare, but fail miserably. "It was. But lunch is a good idea, so I'll forgive you."

We wash up in the kitchen, then head out to the van. He takes my hand to help me up. "Sorry it's so messy."

I look around. It's certainly not dirty, just…lived in. Filled with tools, paperwork, and a beaten-up laptop.

He jumps in and starts down the driveway. "I like that your van is real. Authentic." For some reason I'm able to explain things to Trey that I've never really put into words for anyone else. "I come from a world where so much is artificial, you know? Things said for the cameras, for the media's benefit. Your life isn't like that."

He shoots me a sideways look as he heads toward downtown Sandersville. "If that's your way of saying you don't mind the dusty floor and empty coffee cups, amazing."

"Is that how your eyes became such a rich brown? Drinking so much coffee?"

He winks. "You took a good look at my eyes. Nyah, nyah, you like me."

"I never said anything of the kind," I huff haughtily, turning my head to look out the window. I manage to go almost three seconds before giggling.

"What are you hungry for? Greek, Italian, Chinese, good old burgers…" He trails off. "Miscellaneous?"

It suddenly hits me: I've never been seen in town with a guy before. Almost everyone knows who my parents are, of course, and have seen me with them. Thing is, even if she's just picking up groceries, Mom has a way of drawing everyone's attention with her overly loud voice. I've never seen anyone so desperate to make every person within half a mile notice her every move. Honestly? It's one reason I don't go out much.

"You're quiet," Trey says softly. "Are you considering this important lunch decision, or is something wrong?"

It's better to be truthful. "I just don't want to be seen downtown. Is that okay?"

He pauses at a stop sign, and examines my eyes. "I think I hear what you're not saying. Which is that you don't want to be seen with me."

"No. It's just?—"

He reaches out to squeeze my knee. "Electra. I get it. You lead a very examined life, not by your choice. If you don't want to explain yourself to strangers who might have questions about why you're having lunch with the local electrician who can't keep his eyes off you, I completely understand."

"Thank you. I'm glad you're not offended."

"Not at all. I noticed a nice back patio through your kitchen window. Takeout burritos and a picnic?"

"Perfect."

He stops by the hardware store to pick up the paint we selected, then hums to himself as we head to the burrito place. I love how he's infinitely careful taking my order so I can wait in the van. He also ends up getting apple cinnamon churros for dessert. Yep. I like this guy.

When we get back to my house, I fling a flowered plastic cloth over the picnic table, and grab some bright green napkins.