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Chapter 1
Milo
Holy shit my handyman is smoking hot.
If I knew the guy responsible for fixing stuff in my apartment looked like this… I’d have called for assistance soooo much sooner. My oven has been broken for two weeks already! I could have had my eyes on Mr. Handyman Hottie two weeks ago!
I definitely shouldn’t have been so awkward about asking my landlord to send someone up to check it out. I’m a first-time renter, and appearing needy to the owner of the building is like, my worst fear.
I mean, besides my irrational fear that if the lights are all off, something is going to come out of the dark and get me. At least I’m not entirely alone in that; so many grown adults run up their stairs after turning off the hall light.
My solution? My apartment is never dark. I’ll take a slightly higher electric bill over demons, ghouls, and ghosts, or whatever else is lurking around, waiting for me to turn off the lights.
I’m getting off track.
Hot. Handyman.
He’s older than me—probably in his thirties—and I’m not even deterred by that. If he were in his forties and looked like this? I’d still be drooling.
I’m talking ripped arm muscles that his white tank top only accentuates further. Sandy brown hair that’s long on top and parted down the center with darker, thick eyebrows and beautiful dark eyes. His lips are two mauve pillows I could take a nap on and don’t even get me started on his sculpted jaw.
If I weren’t embarrassingly shy with strangers, I’d straight up ask him if he’s seeing anyone. The thought of possible rejection, and my awkward demeanor is enough to keep my mouth shut, though.
I really do need my oven fixed, since it’s the only respectable way to warm up leftover pizza and bake store-bought cookie dough. Both of which are a staple in this apartment.
“I’m Anthony,” he introduces himself, as he starts to shimmy my shove away from the counters. I didn’t even think to ask for his name when I let him in.
“Milo,” I say in return. “Do you need me to move anything?” Or do literally anything for you?
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “I’ve got space.”
Good, that’s good. I’m not sure that I wouldn’t trip over my own feet trying to do anything he could have asked me.
Feeling like a total weirdo for staring at him while he checks out the back of the appliance, I’m grateful that I moved in a month ago so no mess has accumulated there.
“You said it won’t turn on at all?” he asks, double-checking. Oh good, at least he’s giving me a valid reason to stand here. He might have questions!
“For two weeks, yeah,” I answer, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I can turn on the dials and stuff but it doesn’t do anything. There’s no heat at all.”
“Your stove has been broken for two weeks?” he asks, his eyebrows drawing in. “Why would you wait to call? Did you not know who to contact?”
I didn’t call because I’m a wimp who didn’t want to bother his landlord a month after moving in. I don’t tell him that, obviously. I want this man to think I’m cute, not incompetent. “I eat a lot of takeout,” I lie.
Well, it’s only half a lie, I have definitely been eating out more since I started making better money. It saves me time and the disappointment of eating food that comes out tasting like borderline garbage. My strengths do not lie in the kitchen.
At my answer, he shrugs. “Whatever works.”
Ooooh, do I sense a judgment-free zone?
Anthony bends his knees, crouching down to get a closer look when a tiny bell jingles, the sound ringing closer with each chime. Before I can stop it, my cat is jumping up on the counter next to my handyman, rudely petting himself on his arm. He forcibly rubs the top of his head on the man’s muscular forearms, purring so loud that I can hear it from several feet away.
“I am so sorry,” I rush out, making a move to reach for my naughty kitty.
“It’s fine,” Anthony says lightly. “I don’t mind.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” I warn. “He’s very clingy and he will use you for attention if you let him.”
When I brought my cute little gray baby into my life, I didn’t know he’d be just as clingy as me and adore pampering just as much. It’s nice though, he really keeps me company and he’s decently well-behaved when he’s not tipping over water glasses or using my couch as a scratching post.
