Page 10 of Manors & Mischief

She turns toward the bookshelf, eyes lighting up. “I found a secret door.”

I hate to burst her bubble, but—. Actually, that’s a lie. I can’t wait to burst her bubble. I walk closer, placing my hand on the bookshelf. It’s half dust, and half wiped clean. “In order for a hidden door to be found, people, you know, need to not know about it.”

“Well, I⁠—.”

I don’t give her a chance to finish. “Old Man Lewis would tell anyone and anybody about his secret door in the parlor.” I move closer to stare into the dark abyss, and she gives me room. “You’ll find a hallway that leads into the kitchen where there is another not-so-secret door.” Reaching in, I flip on the light switch, and a parade of lights turn on all the way to the kitchen. Cobwebs, some old and new, fill the space.

She doesn’t speak, and after I’m finished inspecting the narrow hallway, I look over my shoulder to find her eyes shining and a scowl tattooing her lips.

I take a step back.

“What is your problem?” she seethes. Her hands grip the rag tighter. There’s dirt smudged on her cheeks. A loose tank top shifts around her. “Do you pride yourself on making others miserable? Did you come here just to bring your specific brand of grumpy into my life? Well, I’ve got news for you. I don’t have time.” She wipes at a tear that cuts through the smudge, and now it’s darker, streaking all the way to her ear. “Some of us have dreams, and we’re trying like hell to accomplish them, while not going through life acting like you.”

I lift a brow. Maybe Princess does have some claws. They need to be sharpened a little, but fine. I could tell her I had a dream and she stole it, but she’s right. We don’t have the time.

“My mistake.” I turn and start heading toward the door. Her footsteps follow, probably to make sure I actually leave the house. Unease tightens my shoulders. I was a little too harsh. She looked so excited after finding the “hidden” door, and it is cool. When I was a kid, I thought it was the coolest thing ever. For weeks after Old Man Lewis showed me, I had dreams about secret doors taking me into other realms. I think it was about the time I also watched some version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. “Just so you know, though, you called me.”

I step out onto the porch in what I imagined would be a dramatic exit with my parting words, but suddenly, I’m several feet shorter than I normally am, my boot hitting the ground beneath me.

I’m stuck—leg through the porch—exactly like she was yesterday.

A squeak sounds from behind me, then a full-on laugh. A sound so crystal and beautiful, I nearly smile back. She comes around to the side, avoiding the broken floorboards. She doubles over, hands on her knees, then crosses her legs. “Stop. I’m going to pee my pants.”

The more she laughs, the more out of control she gets. Tears fall down her face like streamers celebrating my current predicament. I let her have her little laugh, crossing my arms. I deserve worse.

“This is kismet,” she says. Or at least I think she says because she’s laughing so hard she’s about to start hiccupping. “You know, most people usually stand on porches,” she says, imitating a masculine voice, which I suppose is probably mine.

“Funny,” I respond, trying to keep my voice even and dry, though I have to admit, I can see why she’s enjoying this so much. “You should really get this fixed.”

“I called a handyman,” she says, trying to calm herself.

“I am the handyman,” I tell her, shrugging. “That’s why I came over.”

Her mouth drops open. I think I’m going to get another scathing reply, but instead, she doubles over laughing again, and then plops her butt on the floor. “You’re kidding. You’re who I called?”

“Yep.”

“You’re like a bad penny.”

“Me?”

“I thought you had an automotive garage or something. Everyone said you would help with my car.”

“I’m more like a jack of all trades when it comes to repairs.” I take her in. Flushed cheeks, honey brown eyes shining, stray strands of hair haloing her face. With the smudges of dirt on her face, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone more beautiful. “I guess I’m just good with my hands.”

Good thing I’m in the predicament I’m in, or the brain connected to my cock would be threatening to take over. Even now, I can feel him lengthening in my boxers. Why is it that I don’t like this woman one bit, but I’m attracted to her? This must be some sort of cosmic joke.

Ember clears her throat, and I wonder if she feels the sexual tension, too. She wipes at her face, then unties her bandana to do a better job. Soon, all the dusty remnants are gone.

“So, you’re the handyman, and let me guess, you’re not going to help me with my project?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“But you thought it would be funnier to come tell me in person.”

“Not going to lie, that’s exactly what I thought.”

“Then I don’t feel bad you fell through my porch.”