Her Werewolf Lover: Michael and Samantha (The Macconwood Pack Tales #15)

Chapter 5

W hat a hottie.

Michael looked good standing there, a wide grin splitting his handsome face as his eyes raked over Samantha’s sweaty, dust covered ensemble.

“That was fantastic,” he said, looking at the mess she made when she pounded a hole right into that ugly wall.

“It felt fantastic,” she confirmed, handing him back the hammer.

“I bet. So, how much are you looking to invest? You said all of it, but what does that mean?”

His thumbs were hooked on his pockets, displaying his long-fingered hands for her thorough perusal. She sure liked a man with nice hands .

Samantha watched as he slowly turned away from her. Good thing, too. In another minute, she might have done something really stupid.

Like reach for him .

Wait, what was he talking about?

Oh. Money. Crap.

It had been a long time since Samantha had had to ask how much something cost. Oddly enough, instead of filling her with dread, she felt something else bubbling underneath the surface.

Hysteria? Excitement?

Some combination of both, maybe.

For the first time in forever, Samantha Haleigh Jones, no longer Birkmeyer— fuck you very much, Gary —had to ask how much?

“Okay, um, first, what should I call you? Is Michael okay?” Sam asked and licked her lips.

Was it getting warm in there?

“Michael is fine,” he grinned, and she gulped.

“Okay, Michael. Money is actually going to be an issue for a little while,” she started, “You see, I am on a budget until I find some means of gainful employment.”

“Are you looking for a job?” Michael asked, his perfect eyebrows going sky high.

“Yes. Actually, I am. ”

“Oh, I figured with your career you had money to burn,” he said carefully.

“Ah, yes, well, the divorce was tricky.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Samantha, that was none of my business,” he said, turning his head, and she missed his curious stare.

“It’s okay. I don’t blame you. Okay, I’m going to confess something,” she began slowly, opening up to him for some reason she couldn’t even explain to herself, “I’m at a crossroads here, Michael, and it is new and frightening. I mean, I was someone’s wife for eight years, but he never really saw past this,” she said, pointing to her face.

“It is a helluva face, Sunshine,” he mumbled and gave her a small smile.

“Yeah, well, it’s getting older. Anyway, I’m rebuilding, rebranding, recreating my life. You know what I mean. All of that good stuff. The thing is, I think I have to start here with this place.”

It wasn’t so much the need to explain that spurred her on, but the freedom of being able to that kept her mouth going when her brain was screaming shut up.

Samantha indicated the room around her, then pointed to herself.

“I’m not sure how much something like this will cost, but I am prepared to do it step by step and I will give you a retainer up front. Maybe you can give me a few ideas, then we can decide how to go forward?”

She watched his expression change and winced on the inside. He narrowed his dramatic, dark eyebrows at her as if he wasn’t expecting that from her.

She could just hear him thinking it. Everyone thought it.

Surely someone who looked like her had taken her ex-husband for a bundle.

But if he’d read up on his aunt’s employer, he’d have known Gary Birkmeyer was a sleaze, but not a fool.

But maybe Eileen’s nephew simply didn’t read the tabloids or whatever passed for that on social media.

Or maybe Michael had seen the papers, and Lord knew, they never made the ex-wife look good. They sure loved the story of her divorce.

Vultures.

The so-called reporters ran with a dozen versions of absolute fiction.

Stuff like ‘ former June-girl model dumped and replaced by her classy millionaire husband and in her jealousy, she made off with a truckload of cash and his favorite dog’ type stuff.

None of that was true.

First, Gary hated dogs. Second, she would never touch a single penny of Gary’s blood money.

But Michael wouldn’t know that about her.

Hardly anyone would , she thought sadly.

“Okay. Samantha, just so I understand, is money a problem for you? Do you need help?”

Holy cow.

The man was just so intense. Six and a half feet of sexy handyman was bound to get a girl’s heart rate climbing. And how.

Wowza.

Samantha cleared her throat and tucked imaginary strands of hair back behind her ears. Michael was stirring some long forgotten feelings inside of her, and she was not sure how to handle it.

As if sensing her discomfort, he glanced away, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

His eyes were just gorgeous, and by some trick of the light, she swore they flickered with gold at times.

Incredible.

“Look, I’m going to level with you because this is just too important to me right now,” she said, biting the bullet .

Samantha licked her lips and straightened her spine. She was equal parts embarrassed and hopeful. It was humiliating telling a man who looked like him she was basically broke.

But what did that matter? She wasn’t dating him or even interested.

Yeah. Right. Tell yourself that.

Oh, shush up.

This was not the time for one of her inner arguments. Michael loomed closer, and she felt heat radiating from his body. She’d thought she’d imagined an awareness between them, or at the very least, she thought it must be one-sided.

But there he was, inviting her to spill her most humiliating secrets with nothing more than patience.

Get a grip. He’s just looking for a job.

“Okay,” she said, silencing her mind. “My divorce was widely publicized, but nothing about what they printed was anywhere close to the truth. Let’s just say things were a bit unorthodox with Gary. You see, he kept everything.”

“What do you mean, everything?”

“He left with his new wife and all our assets, save for this,” she said and gestured around her at the horror movie boudoir esque manse .

Michael narrowed his eyes.

“You got this house in the divorce?”

“Yep. This house. My car that I paid for before we married. Some of my clothes and jewelry. Nothing else. No other properties or titles on cars, boats or whatever. And no alimony. Just this.”

“How? Birkmeyer has millions. Look, if you were screwed over, I can call you a good lawyer?—”

“No! No, it was my idea. I didn’t want his money,” she said, shaking her head fervently.

“Okay, now you lost me.”

“I’m sure I’ll find a minute later to be insulted by that, but for now,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him, “I’ll forgive you.”

“I apologize. I am trying to understand, that’s all. I meant no offense,” he said, and seemed contrite.

“It’s okay. You don’t know me, but please, try to understand this house represents my freedom and my life as it could be, as it will be with a little bit of work.”

“You know, this is a lot of responsibility to give your handyman,” Michael said, eyes glittering even as his grin reappeared.

“Cheeky, but I get it. You figured I was just another gold-digging ex-trophy wife. But even if I was, could you see me living in this mockery of a home? It’s a B-movie Vampire brothel come to life. I keep expecting Vincent Price to pop out from behind a velvet curtain or Bela Lugosi to attack me any minute,” she joked, but swore he was growling again.

“You aren’t wrong, Sunshine. And I apologize if I made you feel bad or anything. And you’re right, I don’t know you, but I want to. I’ll do better,” he whispered the last bit.

“It’s okay, I have heard worse. Truth is, if it was the only option, I’d light the whole damn house up, but then where would I be?”

That her life was easily interchangeable with the house in that sentence scared the hell out of her, but in a good way. She’d already done that. Lit a match to her life by standing up to Gary. Refusing to get plastic surgery and efficiently ending their lives together.

Yay her.

No, seriously, yay fucking her!

Her eyes flashed up at the taller man. She’d gotten so used to towering over Gary, she wasn’t prepared for how good it felt to look up to someone.

Lord, he was handsome.

No, no, no .

She needed to be professional about this and ignore the sexual tension in the air.

Her emotions were a complete mess. The last thing she needed was to fall into bed with some hunky handyman lover.

But it could be nice having someone on call. Snort.

“Well, burning the house down may be a bit drastic. Here, let me tell you what I would do for a start, and you’re not that far off, actually.”

Samantha nodded, waiting to hear what he would say.

“Your instincts are spot on. I say we gut it. Get rid of all the drapes, carpets, and the furniture you don’t want. But I’d keep these moldings and baseboards, they are cohesive with the original design of the house,” he said, and all pointed around her. “We’ll strip them, of course. It’s my guess they run throughout the house. Once we get this gold paint off, we might uncover something really special.”

“Okay,” she said, seeing his vision.

“The same with the floors. Once these carpets are up, I suspect you still have the original wood floors. Now, how do you feel about light?”

“Light? I love it. Oh, and I can help with stuff, too. To cut down costs,” she said, jumping up and down .

At her nod, he pointed to the far end of the living room and continued with a grin on his face. “Okay, next, you should install floor to ceiling windows here, triple insulated of course, and a sliding door opening onto the wood deck I see back there. I’ll have to get back there to check out whether or not the deck and stairs need any work. That part should be done before winter. Also, you should knock out this wall and that one, which I agree was probably very recently added. Once you do that, you will have great light and space.”

“Sounds amazing,” she whispered, hugging herself.

“It sure does,” he said, but his eyes were on her.

She inhaled a sharp breath. Should she say something? But he was already turning, and his attention was back on the house.

That’s good, right?

But part of her was disappointed.

“That’ll open this entire floor the way the original designer had in mind, creating a free-flowing concept that will give you the best use of your space.”

Samantha straightened her shoulders as Michael wound down his speech. For a moment there, she could picture exactly what he meant. And it was amazing!

“Okay. I want to go forward. I am prepared to give you a ten-thousand dollar check today,” she began.

“I haven’t named a price yet,” he returned.

“I know, but I want to get started right away. It’s important to me. I don’t know much about construction, but I can throw stuff away with the best of them. I’ll help with the takedown, and that should help with labor, right?”

“Sure,” he nodded, a smirk teasing the corner of his full mouth.

“Sounds like a deal,” she said and held out her hand, professional-like.

Michael stepped into her space, and she sucked in a breath, almost swooning from his nearness. She shook his hand, ignoring the tingles that ran up her spine at the brief, platonic contact.

Plenty of men had been impressed to meet the June Calendar Girl in the flesh when she was up and coming. She’d been paraded around by her agent, then her ex.

But no other man had ever sent her heart racing like this one did. Shutting down her out-of-control emotions, Samantha looked straight into Michael’s impossibly dark brown eyes.

Her relationships with men had always been complicated. And she was honest enough to admit it was usually because of her.

Her beauty was the complication.

She knew she was attractive, something men wanted to possess, but she couldn’t take credit for a face she was born with.

The men in her life had always seemed to want to own that beauty, to brand her with their rings, their names, their sex.

Gary had been the most persistent and for a time, she’d thought he’d loved her, but he was just another trying to claim ownership of her body and soul.

This time, she would try something different from the very beginning.

“Before we start, Michael, I have to say something,” she said.

“Shoot,” he replied, jotting something down on a pad.

“I think this will be a monumental project. I need you to understand that from my perspective, this means the world,” she exhaled, watching his brows furrow as he listened.

Patient , she liked that .

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he said.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Just so there are no misunderstandings between us. My ex-husband held the reins pretty tightly during our marriage, and I never made a single decision. It was easier that way. I know I was a coward, and you probably think I deserved what I got especially if you read all about the divorce in the tabloids, but despite what everyone thinks, I never married Gary for his money.”

“Samantha, I?—”

“I know you didn’t ask, but I am telling you, anyway. I am going to be broke after this. But before you comment, believe me it’ll be worth every penny. And I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but I need to be a part of the decision making. This is the first time I’m on my own. Don’t laugh, but I want a real home. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, for what it is worth, I know what you mean. And I wasn’t laughing at you, Samantha. I was just going to tell you, I think your ex is a complete and utter fool. Now, you will be a part of every single decision I make regarding this project. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Somehow, he’d moved closer to her. So close, she could smell his cologne and the soap beneath it. He smelled good. Spicy, masculine, and expensive.

She really should retreat behind the counter or something, anything to put space between them, but her feet refused to budge.

“I know you don’t know me, and you shouldn’t care what I think, but I think you’re wonderful and brave. From what I can see, you’ve made some difficult choices this past year, and I would very much like to help you build the home of your dreams. Now, nothing worth anything is cheap, but I’ll give you a fair and accurate estimate based on the work you’ll need here.”

“Then I think we have a deal, Michael Duarte,” she said, eyes widening as he stepped even closer— wait, was he sniffing her hair?

“Indeed, we do, Samantha Jones.”