Retrieval (The Retrieval Duet #1)

“Okay.” He paused. “It’s not a big deal. So no more elbows. I can’t hazard a broken rib. I’ve got work to do today.”


I huffed, unwilling to agree for fear of making him a promise I couldn’t keep. “Just get it over with already.”

“Exactly what every man wants to hear,” he teased and then dropped his hand.

I gasped, covering my mouth as I spun in a circle, taking in the newly renovated bathroom. “Oh my God. You…you did this?” I asked, moving toward the double vanity. “You did this?” I glided my fingertips over the smooth edge of the brand-new marble countertop.

He shoved his large hands into the pockets of his dirty jeans and shrugged. “You were never going to sell it with laminate countertops, Liz.”

My mouth fell open when I saw the dual heads in the new shower, where a linen closet had been not even a week ago. “And a new shower?” I breathed, opening the door and stepping inside.

He smiled, leaning his shoulder against the wall and crossing his work boots at the ankle. “And a new shower,” he confirmed.

I did a three-sixty and shrank when I saw the custom tile work I knew for certain he’d done with his own hands. “I…I can’t pay you for this.”

His deep-brown eyes narrowed. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“Jon,” I murmured as I caught sight of the new molding butting up against the resurfaced ceiling.

His eyes followed mine. “Ah…I may have gotten carried away. But you know I can’t half-ass a job. It’s the eleventh commandment.”

I shook my head, relief filling my chest at the same time guilt took up root in my stomach.

I’d been trying to sell that house for nearly six months, and with every passing week, it was costing me more and more to carry. I was barely keeping my books in the black as it was.

While my meager commissions as a realtor paid my monthly bills, they weren’t enough to cover this place. If I wanted to continue flipping houses, I needed to get out from under it as quickly as possible. I’d dumped my life savings into that four-thousand-square-foot skeleton. And then, when that had run out, I’d taken out a loan from the bank and maxed out all of my credit cards.

It still wasn’t enough.

I’d vastly underestimated how much it would cost to get that old Victorian back to something inhabitable—much less desirable.

As it stood, if I could get it sold, I’d be able to recoup my investments and possibly walk away with a few grand in my pocket to show for my hard work.

But, as appealing as the profits were, that wasn’t why I loved spending my evenings covered in dust, working on whatever project I’d gotten in my head the day before. There was something about watching that house come alive around me that gave me a satisfaction I hadn’t felt in years.

But, like most things in my life, I’d taken on too much too quickly.

I did the very best I could on my own, but I was only one person. As I’d learned from the fiasco while removing the fiberglass insulation, I wasn’t necessarily qualified in all areas. Luckily, a friend of mine had put me in touch with Jon Hartley when I’d told her that I needed a contractor. He was a godsend who’d agreed to cut me a deal as long as he could work after five every night.

We’d quickly become friends, and his hourly wage had soon converted to beer and home-cooked meals.

He was fresh from a divorce and using any excuse to keep from going home to an empty house.

I understood him all too well. I was two years out and using one empty house to avoid another.

Jon and I had spent many nights in that old house together. But, in all of our time together, never once had any lines been crossed.

However, looking around at what had to be at least a ten-thousand-dollar bathroom renovation, I was starting to worry Jon’s lines of friendship were slightly different than mine.

“Say something,” he urged, walking over and then stopping directly in front of me. He wasn’t touching me, but there was a certain intimacy at his proximity.

I sucked in a deep breath and swayed away in order to crane my head back. “This is too much. What the hell were you thinking?” I whispered.

“Honestly?” he asked softly. The corners of his mouth tipped up in a half smile that should have melted me. There was no denying that he was a good-looking man. But…he was Jon.

I bit my lip, praying for lies. I didn’t want honesty. Not from him. Not about this.

“Jon,” I breathed.

His hand found my hip and gave it a tight squeeze. “I was hoping that, if you sold this place, I could finally get some sleep.”

I smiled, exhaling on a rush. But, when his eyes landed on my mouth, I felt no relief.

His other hand came up to my face, his thumb trailing back and forth across my cheek as he held my gaze. “And I was hoping, if you sold this place, you’d finally let me take you out and spend some time with you that doesn’t require power tools.”

I swallowed hard. Shit. Damn.