Miss Fix-It

I pulled onto his street. It was easy to pick out which house was his. Flattened boxes were piled on the grass by the mailbox, stacked somewhat haphazardly. I pulled up to the curb and killed my engine. Another drink of water and I grabbed my toolbox—and drill case, just in case—and headed for the front door.

I rang the bell.

A scream answered.

I took a step back.

“No, Ewwie!” a young voice shouted. “Nooooo!”

“Eleanor. Elijah!” a deeper, gruffer voice said over the noise of them fighting. “Can you stop for two minutes so I can answer the door?”

“But she said—”

“But he—”

The door swung open, revealing to me the man I presumed to be Brantley Cooper.

Holy mother of orgasms.

Dumbly, I stared at him. At the dark hair that curled over his forehead and ears. At the turquoise-blue eyes that were currently sizing me up. At the sharp cheekbones, the full lips, the stubbled jaw…The arms that looked like they could lift a tank over his head.

“Can I help you?” he said in a low voice that I could hear over the unruly fighting in the house behind him.

My mouth was too dry to answer.

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I have an appointment in…” He looked at the watch on his wrist. “Any moment, actually, and I have to sort my kids, so…”

“Mr. Cooper?” Thank god. Hi again, voice. Nice of you to show up.

He stopped, mid-turn, and peered at me. “Yes…”

I held out my hand. “Kali Hancock. I’m here to consult with you on your children’s rooms?”

“Kali Hancock.” He said my name slowly, rolling it around his mouth as if he were trying it on for size.

Deep, rumbly, and…suspicious.

Here we go again.

“The K. Hancock I’ve been emailing with?”

“That’s me.”

“Is it common for your company to send someone who isn’t the builder for the consultation?”

I took a deep breath and motioned to the toolbox by my feet. “Not at all. I am the builder.”

He stared at me, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. I could see the exact moment understanding settled, because his eyebrows shot up and his lips parted oh-so-invitingly.

Damn it, no. I didn’t get attracted to stereotypical people like him.

Someone needed to tell my vagina that.

“You’re the builder,” he finally said, slowly.

A gut-wrenching scream came from inside the house.

Brantley Cooper shook his head. “I’m sorry—come in. I’ll be a minute.”

“Thanks.” I picked up my toolbox and drill and stepped into the hallway. There wasn’t a lot of room—he’d either downsized tremendously or he’d failed to unpack a lot of stuff. How long had he been here for?

“Eleanor, Elijah, that’s enough.” He clapped his hands in the next room.

I leaned to the side so I could see through the door.

What? I was nosy. How else did I find stuff out?

He stood in front of two children, a boy and a girl. Despite the fact the little girl—Eleanor—was an inch taller than her brother, Elijah, it was obvious they were twins.

How?

They both had hair that was a golden-brown color that glinted almost copper in the sunlight that streamed through the window behind Brantley. They both stood in identical positions, too. Legs apart, arms folded, and the scowls that marred their adorable little faces… Well, you could have merged photos of those expressions, and you wouldn’t be able to tell, even down to the freckles that appeared to dot their noses.

“I mean it,” Brantley said. “The builder is here to talk about your bedrooms. I’ll send her home if you aren’t going to behave yourselves.”

In perfect sync, they dropped their arms, and their scowls changed into horrified expressions.

“No, Daddy!” Eleanor rushed to him and tugged on his jeans. “No, no, no, I need my pwincess woom!”

“No!” Elijah copied his sister. “I need my superhewo woom.”

“No, I need—”

“I need you to stop shouting,” Brantley said, extracting the twins from him. “Next time, you’re both in time out, do you hear me?”

Two pairs of wide eyes gazed up at him, and golden-brown hair bobbed as they nodded in unison.

Man. That was creepy as fuck.

“Now,” he continued. “I want you both to sit down with the paint charts and pick out the color of your walls.” He pulled two charts off the practically-empty bookcase to the side of him and handed them one each. “I’m going upstairs with Ms. Hancock, and the second I hear fighting is the second Ellie gets the superhero room and Eli gets the princess one. Okay?”

If Ellie looked horrified, Eli was positively beside himself at the possibility.

Never had I seen two children sit down and stare at paint charts so intently in my entire life.

Brantley blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair, joining me back in the hallway. “Sorry. We just moved from Denver, and this is a bit of a change for them. No preschool, they lost their nanny, my parents aren’t around anymore… It’s hard.”