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Is this Charli Mendez?
Charli frowned at the text. She didn’t usually get messages from unknown numbers. Spam calls came through once in a while, but this person knew her name, which made it unlikely they were spamming her.
Yes.
Great! I’m looking to hire a handyman and was told you’re the best.
She relaxed and let out a long breath. Job offers she could work with. “Why don’t they just call though?” she muttered as her thumbs moved over the keys.
I know my way around a hammer. What can I do for you?
My name is Bronson Ramsay. Can we meet up for lunch and I can tell you about the job?
Sure. When and where? When the meeting was set up, Charli glanced at her watch. She had a few hours before she needed to get cleaned up. Meeting a potential client was always a lot like a job interview. If she showed up covered in paint and sawdust, most people tended to think it unprofessional. I mean, it’s not like my job involves paint or sawdust, she thought sarcastically.
Pulling her protective glasses back down onto her nose, she began running the sander again. The beautiful buffet she was working on was exactly the kind of project Charli enjoyed. Old and beat up, with a ton of character just waiting to be exposed.
The piece had come in a few weeks ago, but Charli was just now getting enough time to start stripping it. First, she had worked on fixing hinges and drawer slides, and now she was finally ready for the fun part.
After she got it worked down to the wood underneath the fifteen layers of paint someone had put on it, she would stain the piece, put new hardware on the doors and then put it up for sale in her online store. She didn’t always have things for sale, since restoring wasn’t her full-time job, but she was blessed enough to have a few followers who always enjoyed seeing the pictures of her projects, and that usually led to someone buying the piece.
Someday I’ll do this all day, every day.
She blew out a breath, blowing dust everywhere and making herself choke a little. She turned on her Bluetooth again and let the music begin to play before going back to grinding. The repetitive movements were peaceful and did wonders for the tension in her body. She loved how those slow, easy movements could strip away the bad and bring out the hidden beauty within a piece.
Each time Charli restored something, she felt as if she’d given it a new chance at life, and that feeling was addictive...not to mention slightly dangerous. It made her long for the chance to do that in her own life. To step out of the old and into the new.
Her desire to make it on her own, however, always seemed to overpower the longing. She wanted to start her business, but didn’t want to rely on anyone else to make it happen. This was going to be her baby. She would accomplish it alone or not at all. Any failures or triumphs would lie solely on her shoulders. It felt to her, like the only possible way to really prove herself in this profession.
She knew her parents wouldn’t begrudge her choice of career, but whenever she introduced herself as a restoration specialist, people’s interest always faded. Most didn’t care about the history of a piece of furniture or whether or not the gloss was high or matte. They just wanted the pretty finished product. The rest was useless background.
But those parts mattered to Charli and she had this...need to prove that what she was doing, the dream she wanted to create, was worthwhile. A storefront filled with pieces of history, most lovingly restored at her hands, would be just the way to do it.
When her music track began to play again from the beginning, she glanced at her cell and jumped when she saw the time. Unplugging her tools, she left them on the counter and ran for the house. If she hurried, she’d have just enough time to clean up before meeting Mr. Ramsay at the cafe.
Thirty minutes later, with the taste of mint still in her freshly brushed mouth, she drove down the road and found a parking spot. It was one o’clock and the lunch crowd was still milling around, letting Charli know it would take a while for them to get a table.
She hopped down from the truck and headed to the front door. The sky was gray today with only intermittent spurts of sunshine, so all in all, a very typical coastal day. Wearing her nicest jeans and a v-neck T-shirt, Charli waited at the door, looking around for her potential client.
“Can’t say I expected to run into you again.”
Charli spun, nearly falling onto the seat of her pants at the sound of that molten chocolate voice. Even though she’d only heard it once, she’d recognize it anywhere. Mr. Greek God was looking adorably disheveled at the moment and it broke his persona just enough to let him appear approachable. His short-sleeved shirt had dust stains on it and his jeans were frayed on the bottoms, leading to old-looking work boots. His hair looked like the ocean breeze had been playing tag, leaving him with a few pieces sticking up in odd places, which made Charli’s fingers twitch with a completely inappropriate desire to smooth them down.
She clenched her fingers into fists, shoving the desire aside. “Hello,” she managed to croak, then immediately cleared her throat. Awesome first impression, Charli. Real winner.
A knee-melting chuckle slipped from his lips. “Good to know you actually speak.”
Charli’s cheeks heated up quicker than an oyster in boiling water. “Yeah. Sorry about yesterday. I’m not usually so rude. I was in kind of a hurry.” The lame excuse did little to alleviate her embarrassment.
The man nodded, then stuck out his hand. His knuckles were bruised and full of cuts, making Charli frown, but she hurried to reach out so as not to be rude again.”
“Bronson Ramsay,” he said, gripping her fingers firmly.
Charli’s jaw snapped shut. You’ve got to be kidding me. THIS is my client? What was the good Lord thinking? She took her hand back and straightened her shoulders and back. “Well, it’s a good thing we ran into each other, then. I’m Charlize Mendez.”
*****
BRONSON PAUSED. “YOU know I’m supposed to meet...” His eyes narrowed as she looked at him expectantly. Charlize...no! “Are you Charlie?”
She gave him a rueful grin. “Are you spelling that with an ‘i’? Because Charli is what I go by, but it’s not spelled the same as the boy name.”
Bronson shook his head and pushed a hand through his hair, knocking dust into the air. He fought the temptation to wave it away. He was a mess from being in the house this morning. But he’d figured another manual laborer would give him a break for being this way. He hadn’t planned to run into the beautiful woman from the candy shop, and he’d planned even less for her to be the man he was looking for. “I think maybe there’s been some kind of mistake...”
One beautifully shaped eyebrow slowly rose high. “Really? Is this the time when you tell me that I can’t be a handyman because I’m a woman? That I can’t get the job done because of my gender?” She huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “Wow. I didn’t expect you to be misogynist.”
Bronson leaned back, his temper flaring. “I didn’t say any of those things. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I didn’t need to,” Charli snapped. “Your face said it all.” She backed up a couple of steps, putting her hands in the air. “That’s okay. I don’t need your job. Good luck finding anyone within an hour who can give you the level of work you’ll want.” She spun on her sandal heel and began to storm toward the old truck Bronson recognized.
Bronson felt shell-shocked for a minute after her little performance. Yes, he didn’t think she could do the job, but it wasn’t anything personal, and had little to do with her gender. A man the same size as her probably wouldn’t be able to handle some of the projects his house needed. In his mind, he’d pictured someone as large as himself. Then and only then would he have a chance at getting this house ready in time. Those eight weeks were sitting heavily on his shoulders and Bronson needed every advantage he could get.
Her comment about not finding anyone else close by, however, had him panicking. Before he could think better about it, he lunged after her. “Charli...wait.”
The look she gave him when she turned around should have stopped him in his tracks, but apparently he was a glutton for punishment, because he couldn’t leave things like this. It bothered him that she thought so lowly of him. The fact that in a few weeks he’d never see her again didn’t matter. He didn’t want her thinking he was a jerk. “Let’s work this out like adults, huh?”
She snorted, her dark bangs coming down to cover one eye. “I think we’re already past that, don’t you?”
Bronson shook his head, finding himself strangely intrigued by her spicy attitude. “Let me at least buy you lunch. You came all the way here and even though the job isn’t going to work out, the least I can do is feed you.”
“All the way here?” She made a face. “Have you driven around yet? There is no ‘all the way here’. I literally live less than five minutes away.”
Bronson chuckled. “You can tell me all about it,” he urged, “over lunch.”
Charli gave him a reluctant grin. “Sorry. I guess I sort of jumped all over you.” She sighed and her shoulders relaxed. “Okay, lunch is fine. But I’ll pay my own way, thank you.”
This time it was Bronson’s eyebrows that went up. He’d never had a woman refuse a meal before. “Okay...if that’s the way you want it.”
She nodded. “Yep.”
Bronson waved a hand toward the door and they squeezed their way inside.
“Hey, Charli!” the young hostess chirped. “Two of you today?”
Charli nodded. “Yeah.” She looked around and leaned forward. “Do you have any room out back? This is more business meeting stuff and it’d be nice to hear ourselves think.”
“Sure thing.” The young woman wrote something down. “I think two of the tables are filled with employees taking breaks, but the third is open.” She looked up with a grin. “That work?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Sarah.”
The girl nodded, motioned to a nearby waitress and handed off some menus. “Have a good meal.”
“Thanks!” Charli called again as they followed the waitress into the employee area and out a back door. On the small alleyway, behind the buildings, sat three small bistro tables. Just as the hostess had said, employees were sitting at two of them, but a third was open.
“Can I get you two something to drink?” the waitress, whose name tag said Madison, asked.
“Water,” Charli immediately responded.
“You have all the usual sodas?” Bronson asked. When the waitress nodded in affirmation, he gave his order and then settled into his seat. Looking around, he noticed how peaceful and clean the alley was. “Wow. This certainly isn’t what I expected.”
Charli nodded, looking at ease in her seat. “Yeah. The tourists don’t know this is back here, which is nice. Usually it’s reserved for workers, so we got lucky today.” Her dark eyes leveled on him. “So tell me about this job.”
Bronson frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” He didn’t want to discuss things that wouldn’t work out.
Charli’s eye roll was impressive with how much disgust she portrayed through it. Leaning onto the table, she folded her hands together. “Listen, Mr. Ramsay—”
“Bronson. Just Bronson.”
She nodded. “Fine. Bronson. I meant what I said about there not being anyone else who would be able to handle your needs close by. I get calls for the next two towns north and south of us. If you’re looking to fix something up, then I’m your woman.”
Bronson matched her stance. “But see, that’s the problem. As capable as you probably are, I need something built practically from the ground up, and I need it done quickly.” He shook his head and forced himself to relax in his seat again. Leaning forward had felt too intimate with a woman he was attracted to, but trying to let down gently. “It’s nothing personal. I need someone who can do the big jobs.”
“Try me.”
He sighed. Fine. What’ll it hurt? After she sees the house, she’ll probably run for the hills and it’ll all be over. “Okay. You think you can handle it? After we eat, I’ll take you there and tell you exactly what I’m looking to do. Then you can make up your mind yourself.”
Charli nodded firmly. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” She leaned back and a small, seductive smirk played on her lips. “You’re expecting me to run, aren’t you?”
Bronson met her stare, but didn’t respond. This woman was too clever for her own good. It’s probably why she’s in such demand around here. Her attitude was fierce but playful at the same time and he could only imagine how enticing that was to the residents.
Charli’s grin turned into a full-fledged smile and then she began to laugh. The sound was low and husky, stirring more unwanted feelings in Bronson’s chest. He hadn’t come here to be attracted to a local. He’d come here to earn his inheritance, something that was rightfully his. And he wasn’t going to let anyone, not even the oh-so-tempting handyman that wasn’t really a man, ruin that for him.