Mom’s video call had been a nice distraction, but now that the guy was actually here, all my nerves flooded back. Blake had assured me several more times over the course of the afternoon that Joe was not a serial killer, but it wasn’t my physical safety I was concerned with. Things had been awkward with him since the drink incident, and I didn’t expect having him in my borrowed space to improve matters.
“Hey.” I opened the door to let him in, trying to sound friendly and not gloomy. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem.” He seemed even bigger in the entry hall, broad shoulders stretching his thick, cotton work shirt. Some people might call his bulky build thick or husky, but I found his solidness highly attractive, another mark in the hot column next to his rugged face. His brown hair was shorter than mine and slightly darker, especially in the dim hall light. A ready smile contrasted with his otherwise intimidating demeanor.
Like always, I wasn’t sure what to say to him, how to not look foolish. My eyes dropped down to the large plastic toolbox in his meaty hand. He had a slim folding stool under the other arm. He’d certainly come prepared.
“You brought tools?” Good one, Levi. So smart. I mentally kicked myself for opening my mouth, but Joe simply nodded. I appreciated how he never made me feel like an idiot, even when I was flailing.
“Yup. Figured I’d save a trip back out to my truck.” He followed me into the living room which had a view of the park. “Which smoke detector is it? Kitchen?”
“No. Bedroom.”
I’d cleaned up and made the bed before Joe’s arrival, but it still felt odd, leading him through the condo to the bedroom. Hot, older electrician. Bedroom repair. If it wasn’t for me and my terminal awkwardness, this could easily pass as the start of a porno. Not that Joe was into me like that, but it was still weird, having him this close to my bed.
Taking a breath, I pointed at the smoke detector up on the wall above the door, close to the ceiling. “This one.”
“You were right about hardwired. And old. You almost never see these anymore.” Joe whistled as he set down his tools and unfolded the stool. “Most buildings are going with the smart digital ones when they remodel.”
“Do…um…” Come on, Levi. You don’t need to be a nervous puppy. Clenching my hands, I forced a more normal, less timid tone. “Can I help?”
“Help?” Joe’s eyes narrowed. Of course a guy who did this for a living didn’t need my help. I wasn’t sure what I’d been thinking, and I was about to apologize, when he nodded and pointed to the other side of the step stool. “Stand over here. I’ll hand you the screws and the fixture in a moment. But first, we need to turn off the circuit breaker.”
I liked how he said we, and warmth spread across my chest.
“It’s in the hall closet.”
I led him there, and then stood back while he intently studied the metal box, flipping circuits and muttering about poor labeling. The lights in the hall and bedroom flickered out, but there was still some early-evening light filtering through the windows. Still, it felt odd, standing there in the near dark with this guy I barely knew.
“You hold the flashlight,” he ordered when we were back in the bedroom. He had an impressive light in his toolbox, big and industrial, but not too hard to figure out how to flip on and aim at the wall.
“I can do that.”
Again, I found myself appreciating how his instructions seemed to assume competence, the extra patience in his voice conveying that he believed in me. And it was silly, finding it so reassuring, but as we worked, my earlier tension receded with every new request. And he was chatty, narrating his actions.
“Now I can remove the faceplate,” he explained before handing it to me.
“You’re good at this.”
“Well, I should be.” His laugh was like caramel corn, light but deep and sweet at the same time. “Been at it enough years.”
I’d meant more the giving-directions thing, but I nodded, nonetheless. “Oh, that’s right. You said it’s a family company.”
“Yep.” The drill whirred as he removed a few more screws.
“Guess you were predestined to be an electrician.”
Joe snorted. “Hardly. I’m the youngest of three brothers, but there wasn’t a huge amount of pressure to follow Dad into the business. Mom was a high school music teacher. She was big on us all going to college, choosing our passion.”
“That’s nice. My mom’s kind of like that too. She put herself through nursing school, but she wanted me to have more options.” I didn’t usually share many personal details with people I wasn’t close to, but something about Joe made me continue. “I got a track scholarship, and she was so proud. Didn’t even care what I majored in. She was happy that I’d get to live in the dorms and experience stuff she never did.”