Page 5 of Her Werewolf Lover

She took in the large living room and its hideous décor. Eileen grimaced, but tried not to show it.

Bless her heart.

“You know, you need some help. I am too old to do this, but you are going to work yourself into an early grave if you try to tackle this remodel alone.Come on, sit, sit, sit. Here, let me get you something to eat,” Eileen murmured.

The older woman produced a plate of homemade cinnamon cookies from the sidebar and shoved them towards Samantha.

Sam had to admit, she liked the coddling. Loved the way it felt to have someone looking out for her.

“Oooh!” Sam sighed and took a bite of sinfully sweet heaven.

“Now, about this place,” Eileen started.

She nodded at the red velvet curtains and gilded mirrors throughout the room with muted horror showing on her face. The woman had flawless skin. Sam appreciated beauty, and older or not, Eileen looked great.

“You’re right, Eileen. It is terrible.”

Samantha smirked and picked up a gold fringed pillow. She threw it across the room to join the other one. An audible sigh escaped her lips as she nibbled on another deliciously soft cinnamon cookie.

“You need to fix this mess,mija.”

“Yeah, but paint isn’t going to do it. What I need is someone to help put this place together myway. I mean, all those interior designers Gary used to deal with. Ugh. They wanted everything their way, and Iam tired of listening to everyone telling me who I am.”

“I understand, Samantha, I do.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t know how to take this place apart myself. But it needs to be done.”

Weary and anxious, Samantha leaned on Eileen and let the woman fuss with getting her a napkin and another cookie.

It felt good being fretted over.

“What you want is not a designer. What you want ismyMiguelito.” Eileen grinned, as if an imaginary light bulb blinked on over the top of her salt and pepper curls.

“What, or rather who isMiguelito?”

Samantha bit into one of Eileen’s magical cinnamon cookies, trying not to look around at the ugly as sin room.

Dear God, how many gold and red fringed pillows were there in the world?

She sighed as she ate. Licking the cinnamon sugar from her lips, Samantha listened to Eileen go on and on about her little Miguel.

“Miguel es mi sobrino.Un carpintero.His company started right here in Maccon City. He works so hard. And he is a very good boy, myMiguelito.”

Samantha, hopeless at any language, includingEnglish, pieced together that Miguel was Eileen’s nephew. A carpenter who had a talent for painting, marble, woodwork, plumbing, lighting, gardening, heck, anything you could think of that dealt with one’s hands.

Eileen sang his praises in between sips of champagne, and though Samantha had her misgivings, she decided she would give him a shot.

A handyman was a foolish thing to waste.

She vaguely remembered Eileen mentioning him a few times when she’d first arrived a few months ago. He definitely had a kid. A son maybe. But Sam could not recall if he was married.

Hmmm, a handyman, huh?

She wondered what else he could do with his hands.

Christ, had it really been that long since she’d had decent sex?

If talking about a handyman made her all hot and bothered, then the answer was obvious.