#HotAndHandy (Keeney Builds #1)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

“ T hat should do it,” Vincent said, slapping the side of the Hobart dishwasher. “If it causes you any more grief, call me.” He fished a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to the kitchen manager of Denali’s main restaurant before hoisting his toolbox. He was glad he’d eaten a big lunch; otherwise, he’d be tempted to sample the mouthwatering breads currently being baked for the evening diners. Weaving through the gardens of the hotel complex, he passed a bicycle rack on his way to the truck. Two steps on, he halted mid-stride and looked back. The lone bicycle looked familiar. Canary yellow with a white wicker basket covered in fake daisies, it had to be Hilary’s. All by itself, it was listing to the side and seemed slightly forlorn. He wondered what she was doing but continued on. She was a grown woman, and it wasn’t his business to check on her.

But wasn’t that what he was doing with the text messages? He’d shoot her a silly meme that made him smile, and they’d talk about books they were reading. Anything to draw her out, to ease the pain she’d suffered through her divorce. It was good that she was here at Denali’s rather than at home. He should be thankful .

He should mind his own business. He thrust the toolbox into the truck’s cab and stood staring at the interior, hands on his hips. Then he moved quickly. Off came the KBS shirt, on went the flannel button-down hanging from the back of the passenger seat. He slammed the door of the truck and headed back to the hotel, running his hands through his hair and hoping the restaurant didn’t have a dress code.

The hotel complex was initially the first elementary school in Keeney. Now, it boasted three restaurants, a pool, a movie theater, and multiple bars and lounges. He found Hilary in the third place he looked. All by herself, she was listing to the side and seemed slightly forlorn. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. She shouldn’t be alone in a bar, but then again, he was happy he hadn’t found her with a man.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he called out at the woman behind the bar, slipping onto the stool beside Hilary and raising a hand to hold the bartender’s attention.

Hilary looked up at his voice, not appearing too surprised by his presence, and closed the book in front of her. He lifted his chin in acknowledgment and waited for his drink. When it arrived, he tapped it against her glass, took a long pull of the liquid, and promptly spit it back into the glass. “It’s tea!”

“Yeah?” Hilary frowned at him.

“Unsweetened iced tea with no booze in it,” he said in disgust.

She shrugged. “I got here a while ago, and they don’t serve alcohol until after four p.m.”

“Well, it’s after four now.” Vincent waved the bartender over again and ordered two beers.

There was no awkward silence with Hilary, just a quiet companionship. Vincent sat back and relaxed. The back of the bar was a mirrored wall with shelves of liquor bottles. He could see the empty room and Hilary in the open spaces between the bottles. His gaze kept returning to her. Her hair had grown a bit longer since he first met her four months ago, the curls relaxed, the silver-gray contrasting sharply with her dark eyebrows. His gaze moved from her face to her long, slim fingers idly playing with a coaster. He spotted the tattoo.

“Why a dove?”

Hilary glanced at the inside of her wrist as if seeing the tattoo for the first time. She traced it with a finger from her left hand. “It reminds me to seek peace and love myself.”

Surprised by the honesty of her remark, it took a moment to think of a reply. “Does it work?”

She shrugged. “Probably not enough. It’s way too easy to focus on what I don’t have and brood over the past. Do you know what I mean?”

“Um, yeah,” he answered. Images of his time in jail, followed by the fruitless job search, came to mind. Again, he thanked the universe for having good people in his corner. He didn’t think the woman beside him could make the same claim.

The beers arrived as Hilary turned to him. “I’ve shown you mine, now you show me yours.” The bartender placed the bottles down abruptly and scuttled off.

Vincent caught Hilary’s smirk in the mirror. “I wonder what she was thinking?”

“Huh,” she said with a wide-eyed look of innocence.

They tapped their beers together and drank.

“Weren’t you required to get a prison tattoo?”

He shook his head. “I had a deal with my mom.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’ll have to explain that.”

Turning his stool, he rested an arm on the bar and held his beer with the other hand. “I wanted a tattoo when I was seventeen. Ma said sure, but she would be getting the exact same thing in the exact same location, so I had better choose wisely.”

“What did you have in mind?”

He tilted his head back and smiled at the memory. “ Starting with the local ones, I was planning on having the names of all the ski hills I’d been to tattooed down the side of my ribs.” He looked at Hilary to see her eyes following the path of his hand as it absently moved down the side of his chest. She glanced away when their gaze met, coloring slightly.

She cleared her throat. “Was Marcia not on board?”

Vincent snorted. “Oh no. She was ready to make the appointment for us to get the first one done. The deal was that she would watch me get my tattoo, and I would watch her.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to see her topless while some guy was touching the side of her boob.”

Hilary choked on a laugh. When she recovered, she said, “But now you’re a grown-ass man. What’s stopping you?”

His gaze moved over the bar’s surface, then came back to meet hers. “I haven’t seen anything I want permanently inked on my body.” He reached out and touched her wrist. “I like this. The workmanship is lovely.” He traced the outline of the tiny bird and gently pressed on her pulse point before removing his hand. He watched in fascination as her heart rate increased in tempo.

She dropped her hand in her lap, and turned away to fiddle with an earring. “The woman was good. I may get her to tattoo my chest.”

“Another dove?”

Watching him through the mirror, she shook her head and waved at her chest. “If I can’t have breasts, I figured I’d get the scars tattooed over.”

Meeting her gaze in the mirror, he saw her hand pressed tightly against what would have been her cleavage. He nodded slowly, his gaze remaining on hers. “I’ve heard of that. Have you picked out a design?”

Her shoulders relaxed. She placed both elbows on the bar and rested her chin on top of her hands. “Some. It’s expensive. Insurance covers reconstruction, not tattoos, so it won’t happen for a while.”

“I know nothing about reconstruction. Is that implants?”

“Either implants or using a woman’s own tissue. My implants didn’t take. My husband wanted me to try the other, but I didn’t want to face another surgery and decided to live flat. He didn’t like that decision. He wanted the old me back, when I was—” she cupped her hands in front of her to mimic large breasts, “—and that person isn’t coming back.” Downing the contents of her beer, she placed the empty bottle on the bar.

It didn’t say much about her husband that he rejected her because she no longer conformed to his idea of a woman. She was perfect, exactly the way she was. Vincent signaled the bartender for another round.

She slid off the barstool. “Thank you, but not for me. I’m on my bike.”

Reaching out, he stayed her with a hand on her arm. “I’ll take you home. We’ll throw your bike in the back of the truck.”

Ducking her head, she considered his hand for a moment, then sat back down. “Alright.”

He squeezed her arm gently before letting go. “What are you doing here? Late lunch?”

She blew out a gust of air that ruffled her bangs. “Sort of. It was a date, but the guy didn’t show.”

“Jerk,” Vincent muttered but hid his satisfaction behind a drink from the bottle. He was glad she wasn’t seeing anyone. Indicating the novel in front of her, he said, “At least you had something to do while you waited.”

“Yep.” She flicked at the bookmark wedged between the pages. “But I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t get this far in the book. That I wouldn’t need it for more than a conversation starter.”

“Have you dated much since your divorce? ”

“Nope. This was going to be my first dip in the pool.”

He winced inside. Watching through the mirror, he could see what it was costing her to appear like she didn’t care. He wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. He settled for a shoulder nudge. She looked up to meet his eyes. He tilted his chin. “I know some guys. Just say the word, and I’ll take care of him.”

Throwing her head back, she slapped the bar and snort-laughed. It was the best thing to happen to him all day. “Right! What are you gonna do? Have the guy spackled?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “It could be arranged.”

She shook her head, but the smile remained on her face. It was a pretty smile on a pretty lady. She sat up straight, her shoulders moved back and down as she turned her stool to face him. Seeing the humor in her eyes, he decided to make it his mission to make her smile every day. “I didn’t know Keeney’s local wise guy was living in my backyard.”

Swiveling to face her, he said, “I made connections when I was in the joint.”

Thunk!

They looked up to see the bartender drop off their beers and swiftly disappear.

Vincent nudged Hilary’s knee with his. “What does she think of us?”

“The worst, probably.”

They were facing each other, her legs primly tucked together, his spread wide and bracketing hers. She wore a short white skirt and a gray and white striped shirt. It had a wide boat neck and sleeves ending at her elbows. She looked fresh and summery and didn’t seem to care that he was in his work jeans and an old flannel shirt. He suddenly felt self-conscious about not cleaning up before coming to find her. He hoped he didn’t smell bad. He tapped his beer against hers, nudged her knee, and gave her a wink. Winking? When did he start winking? Mentally, he shook his head .

Hilary giggled. Okay, maybe he would wink more often. She was sitting up straight. She wasn’t crossing her arms or doing anything to cover up her chest. Good.

“Iris says you’ve taken on another assistant.”

“Yeah, but not really an assistant. A guy who was inside with me. Did the same program.”

She played with the edge of her coaster. “How’s that gonna work out?”

He stretched out one long leg and rubbed his thigh. “Tomas and I wanna start our own contracting business. We need seed money to get started, though. For now, there’s enough work at KBS for both of us to go out on jobs separately. Tomas will take Carl with him, and Ali will find another kid to work with me.”

“Will that be a new hire?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “KBS has connections with the college. Kids who are going through the building trade programs can get work experience at KBS.”

Cocking her head to the side, Hilary sent him a calculating look.

He watched her through narrow eyes. “What are you thinking?”

Grinning, she slid off the barstool. “I have an idea for you and Tomas.” Looking pretty pleased with herself, she headed off to the restroom.

A fter washing her hands, Hilary fluffed up her hair and slicked on a fresh coat of clear lip gloss. She smiled at her reflection. Drinks with Vincent was more enjoyable than lunch with a stranger. As wounded as she’d been when the guy hadn’t shown up, she felt much better now. Vincent didn’t seem repelled by her lack of breasts, and the age difference didn’t seem like such a big deal. She sauntered back to the bar only to stop short. He stood with his back to her, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket while the pretty bartender smiled up at him. It looked like the date was over.

What made her think she could hold the attention of a man like Vincent? He was hot, sexy, and young. She was…not. With faltering steps, Hilary moved closer. Watching his handsome face through the mirror, she forced a smile when she caught his eye.

Smiling tentatively, he turned around. “It’s kinda early, but would you, um, like to get some supper?”

The bartender gave a friendly wave and walked away. Looking up, Hilary realized Vincent was focused solely on her. “The bartender said the food here is good. We could sit outside and maybe talk about your idea?” Was this…what? Her head slightly fuzzy from the two beers, her belly swooped as she considered the implications.

“Shit, I suck at this.” Vincent shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. “I haven’t asked a woman out in over four years. Can you give me some help here?”

A smile bloomed on her face, and she cocked a hip and crossed her arms. “It’s been more than twelve years since I’ve been asked on a date. My reaction time is a little off. Now that I know what’s going on, try again.”

“Okay,” he replied slowly. He stepped closer, lowering his voice and capturing her eyes with the intensity of his own. “Hilary, are you free this evening? I’d like to take you out for dinner.”

“Sure, I’d like that.” She uncrossed her arms and put her hands behind her back, bouncing on her toes and smiling like she was back in high school, the nerdy bookworm being asked out by the captain of the basketball team. It felt that good.

“Yeah? Cool.” Vincent rubbed a hand over his face and released a breath. Picking up her book in one hand, he placed the other on her arm and walked her to the door.

“So…this is a date, then.” She half expected Iris and Marcia to join them and was thrilled to feel his hand move from her arm to her upper back, secretly hoping it would move lower.

“Yes, it is.” He smiled down at her. He stepped away as they walked from the bar out to the patio. Reaching a table, he pulled out a chair for her and then sat caddy-corner to her. When the waiter brought them water, Vincent raised his glass to Hilary. “To our first date.”

She sipped from her glass and met his eyes over the rim.

Not just a date, a first date. Nice.

V incent offloaded the bicycle and rolled it over to the side of the garage where Hilary usually parked it. As impromptu as it was, the date had gone fairly well, in fact, quite well. She was easy to talk to and easy on the eyes. When she smiled, her whole face lit up. And when she laughed… He vowed to make her laugh at least once a day because it made him feel so good. They didn’t get around to discussing her idea until the drive home. Apparently, when she got excited, she moved her hands a lot. Now, she was standing in front of him, bouncing on her toes, and waving her hands in front of her.

“We should have no problem getting a grant to fund the program.”

While she seemed to think it was a no-brainer, he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea. Why would someone want to fund a program taught by two ex-convicts?

“From who?”

She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She’d done it more than once during the evening. He propped his hands on his hips to prevent himself from doing it for her.

“Okay,” Hilary ticked items off on her fingers. “The trades are screaming for apprentices. There’s lots of training available, but construction is hard work, and few want to go into it. If we focus on at-risk youth, those who have already had a brush with the law, we’re golden. We get sponsors like KBS who can help with job location, we get non-profits on board who work with youth, the school districts to help with tutoring, then add you and Tomas as instructors for the sexy component.”

“Sexy component?” His lips quirked up.

“Well, yeah, there’s nothing sexier than a reformed bad boy.” She placed her hands on her hips and gave him a grin as she swept wide eyes up and down his long body.

He threw his head back and laughed. God, this woman. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder like a caveman and take her to his bed. He also wanted to spend hours listening to her and watching her face light up with the enthusiasm of her ideas.

Iris poked her head out her door and looked at them. “You two okay?”

“Just fine,” he answered because he couldn’t find the words to describe how good he felt.

“I’m convincing him to think bigger than being a handyman,” Hilary called.

“Oh,” said Iris. “Will KBS be losing its best employee?”

“Probably not. She has more convincing to do.” He guided Hilary to the stairs with a hand on the small of her back. They waved as Iris ducked back into her place.

A few hours later, twilight set in, and they were comfortably ensconced in chairs on Hilary’s deck. They’d kicked around ideas for the program and thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company. An incoming text lit up his phone, making him glance down and grimace. “Ugh. I have to pick up Tomas at seven tomorrow morning.” He rose to his feet. “I should get going.”

Hilary rose as well and busied herself with the empty cups and teapot. “Yes. You…umm… head on home. I’ll…just—”

He took the items out of her hands. “I’ve got this.” He carried them into the house and placed them on the counter. Turning, he found her behind him, twisting her fingers and looking everywhere but at him. She was like no woman he’d known. Competent and accomplished but so incredibly vulnerable. She pulled at him as if he were a puppet, and she held the strings. He wanted to explore this attraction but knew moving slowly was the key to being with Hilary. He stepped closer, shoved his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the doorway, forcing her to look up at him. “Thanks for a great first date.”

“You’re welcome.” The words came out in a whisper.

He shifted his weight, drawing closer still. “Although, we have eaten together many times now, including the trip to urgent care and when you let me use your computer.”

“Oh,” she said softly, her big eyes widening further.

He reached up to tug on a curl. “But I’m hoping instead of you needing stitches or a band-aid, this time you’ll let me kiss you.”

“Oh,” she said again, with a slow blink.

Vincent leaned down, touched his lips behind her ear, and whispered, “May I?”

Hilary turned her head toward him. He guided her closer with a fingertip to her chin and touched her lips softly with his. Once. Twice. And then cradled her face in the palm of his hand, and deepened the kiss. Her lips parted, his tongue found hers, and her hands came up to rest on his chest. When a small sigh escaped her, Vincent pulled back. He wanted to pull her close enough for her to understand exactly what she did to him. Instead, he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. He turned their bodies so she was inside the house, and he was outside. “I’d like to do this again. Would you?”

At her silent nod, he smiled and headed for the stairs. At the door to his house, he turned. She stood framed in her doorway. “Good night, Vincent,” came softly through the quiet darkness.

“Good night, Hilary.”