Decker's Wood

“I could fix this for you.” I walked toward the small kitchen to find Decker kneeling in front of the cupboards. “I could build you a pantry over there,” he pointed to the other side of the kitchen, “and a fridge could sit beside it. I might even be able to find you a secondhand stove to replace this one. I think this baby’s seen better days.” He opened the oven door and I grimaced. Burnt food was stuck to the inside and it smelled like ass.

 

“I don’t have much cash left over, so I need to be careful with expenses. There is a lot of work to do here and my priority is downstairs. I need to get that set up so I can start making some money.” I stood and wiped my hands on the back of my dress. When I looked down at Decker, who was still kneeling, I caught his gaze sliding over my ass. He glanced up and had the good sense to blush, trying and failing miserably to hide it behind a lazy smirk.

 

“Well, you are but a mere male,” I said sarcastically.

 

He grinned and stood up. “And you are but a mere woman. What can I say? Your ass was level with my eyes and your hands were all over it, that’s a recipe for male perversion.”

 

I snorted. “Male perversion, I like that.”

 

“My old man owns a building restoration business here in Manhattan. I can pick up a few bits and pieces from him to fix up the cupboards and I’m sure he can find me a second hand stove.”

 

Excited by the prospect of a little help to get this place up to date, I followed Decker to the bathroom. It was a large space with an old fashioned combined bath and shower to one side and a tidy vanity in the corner. The toilet sat on the wall opposite the bath/shower.

 

“You could use a set of shelves in here,” he murmured. “Leave it to me, I’ll see what I can come up with, and I’m sure I’ll be able to put most of this together without any cost to you.”

 

I didn’t like the idea of not covering costs. I was all for a little help, but I paid my own way. I always had right up until I used my inheritance to help me acquire this dream.

 

“I don’t need handouts, Decker, and I don’t want to inconvenience your father. If you could help me buy some paint for downstairs and fix that sign out front, it would be a great start.”

 

Decker shrugged. “What about food? You want me to drive you somewhere to get some groceries?”

 

“My furniture is supposed to arrive sometime this afternoon. I might just have takeout tonight and worry about groceries tomorrow.” I really couldn’t do anything with food until I had this kitchen cleaned and my fridge anyway.

 

“Okay, well, I guess I’m going to get out of here.” Decker said, running a hand over the back of his neck.

 

“No worries, I know you’ve got shit to do today,” I said with a smile, reminding him of his words back at the airport.

 

Decker looked a little chagrined. “Yeah, sorry for being an ass. I guess I had a bad morning.”

 

I shrugged. Decker had always been somewhat of an ass as far as I was concerned. Appropriate since he had one perfectly taut ass that I had a hard time keeping my eyes off.

 

“Got your phone handy?”

 

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my iPhone. Decker snatched it from my fingers.

 

“Rude much,” I said, stomping my feet. His fingers were quick and dexterous across the screen before he handed it back to me.

 

“My number is in there now. If you need anything, just call. I’ll get back here when I can with some supplies and help you out with this.” He waved a hand over my kitchen.

 

To be honest, I liked the old rustic look. I liked old things in general and would happily use the kitchen as it was. Maybe doors on the cupboards would be nice though. And a pantry would be helpful. Not to mention a new stove.

 

After Decker hauled my suitcase upstairs, I was left with the silence of my own thoughts. I leaned against the wall of my studio apartment and grinned. Mine. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I had something that was mine. A place I could call home, my home. I grinned. Yep, this city could try to chew me up and spit me out, but it wouldn’t like the taste of stoic determination. This little duck was going to be just fine.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

DECKER