I Can Fix That

I glared at him. “Grant, I promise it’s not that serious. Now let’s eat so you can fix my oven before Saturday.”

He begrudgingly let the topic go but was still clearly upset. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone ever got that upset on my behalf. Has anyone ever done that? Maybe Ashley had on a multitude of occasions, mainly if a guy made a pass at me or if she heard someone being rude back in college. But since then?

I handed him his portion of food and opened my container to my half sandwich. “So, we haven’t talked about the house in a while. How’s it going?”

He finished chewing a bite of his sandwich. “Yesterday, Beau finished sheetrocking where the paneling was, and we have cabinets coming in on Thursday. Tomorrow, I plan on ripping up that carpet to see if we can restore those hardwoods.” The thought of everything coming together made me so excited to see the end result. I quickly thanked God I never attempted staining those beautiful hardwoods.

“Do you think I should stop by to see the progress, or should I wait till the end for a big reveal like they do on HGTV?”

He quickly answered before I barely finished my sentence. “Definitely come. Just to see the progress as we move along.”

I liked the idea of stopping by to see Grant working again, all sweaty with his boxers above his jeans and his work shirt rising up just enough for me to peek at his stomach muscles underneath. I also liked the idea of having shameful excuses to be near him again.

Any male interest in my life had been the complete opposite of him.

I generally settled for the ease of a relationship with a sentimental, more emotional man—someone who cried at Pixar movies with me and would bring me chocolates to work. I was sure Grant was the furthest thing from that. But I found myself continuously looking at him as more than a random contractor/friend. A month ago, I considered Grant this cocky jerk who only thought of himself. And yet here he was in my kitchen, ready to fix my oven and break my neighbor’s fingers just for taking my parking spot, and my heart was doing somersaults because of it.

He finished eating sooner than I’d like him to. “Do you want me to look at that oven now?”

“Whenever you’d like to, no rush.”

He smirked at me. “You’re not quite ready to kick me out, Hart?”

“Not quite yet, don’t worry. We’ll get there.” He playfully rolled his eyes and took both of our plates to the sink.

“Let me grab my tools, and I’ll get working. Do you want to help me? Maybe you’ll learn a couple of things other than how to bake and say yes to everything.”

Picking up on his humorous attitude, I said, “Well, you know now I can’t say yes.”

He let out a puff of air, almost like a laugh, placed his tool bag on the ground with a loud clatter, and got on his knees on the floor by the oven.

“Just get down here with me.”

I sunk onto the floor, flushed at the thought of being so close to him, and began watching him take off what I learned was the access panel. He pointed out different parts of the oven as if I’d be able to remember everything.

“All right, hand me the needle-nose pliers.” Using my context clue, I reached into the bag and pulled out what I thought would work.

“Nope.”

Maybe this one?

“Nope.”

“Okay, it’s gotta be this one.” I handed him my next guess.

“That’s a pipe wrench.” I put it back in the large charcoal bag and kept looking. He reached for my hand to stop me.

“Maybe I’ll just get the tools, and you can keep me company?” There’s no use saying no to him. With those large arms and rough fingers digging through his tool bag and that deep voice calling me near, he doesn’t have a chance of me telling him no.

So, I sat criss-cross applesauce and put my hands on my lap as I did with my students during floor time.

“I can do that!” I fiddled with my thumbs while he leaned over the oven, his broad shoulders spread wide across, making the appliance look smaller. His shirt was loose enough that I couldn’t see his muscles underneath, but judging by how his body contours as he moves his arm back and forth, I can tell he’s absolutely well built. I found myself getting way too excited checking out a man who had previously made my skin crawl.

“How long have you been in the remodeling business?” Good, a distraction should work.

“Since I left school. I was with that builder I mentioned till I was twenty. He retired, and I took over a lot of the business. I started doing those small jobs, nothing major, and eventually got my contractor license seven years ago, and I’ve been on my own since.”

I thought back to that picture I saw. Was the older man between Beau and Grant that builder? I wanted to ask him about it, but I was sure saying, ‘hey, I stalked you and found a random picture from a few years ago,’ wouldn’t be a good pick-up line.