Page 3 of Studfinder

I couldn’t imagine what I’d possibly get out of listening to others tell their tales. I’d heard worse. So much worse inside prison. I didn’t need some bored housewife telling me how she drank in the middle of the afternoon while she watched soap operas. Or some local business owner sneaking shots behind his cash register.

“Handsome, huh?” I mocked, matching her false smile with a teasing smirk of my own. At one time, I knew how to hook a woman. Flirting had landed me my ex-wife, but I didn’t waste my time with thoughts of Lisa. And I would never flirt with Rita Kaplan. She will not hold my heart, be sweet on me, or anything other than be a pain in my ass.

To top it all off after that meeting, I find Rita as the supervisor on the job where I’ve been stationed the following day. It’s some restorative justice bullshit where I right the wrongs of the things I’ve done. I’d believe in it more if I thought I’d done something wrong that needed to be righted.

On that note, I finish my coffee, enjoying the subtle noise of a busy café around me while I sit in solitude. I’ll never take for granted being alone again, and while I’ve longed for decent company, I’ve grown accustomed to the silence. However, when a dark-haired beauty enters and orders the most complicated drink I’ve ever heard, I decide she’s the company I might like to keep. At least, for an hour or two.

3

Rita

“The couch thief,” I snap as Jake Drummond reports for work at Building Buddies, my passion project, the next day. The not-for-profit organization builds homes for those in need in the Vermont-New Hampshire area. It’s a program I’ve been dedicated to for over a decade and remain committed to in memory of my father, who stressed the need to give to others less fortunate. When I was ten, Dad taught me how to wield a hammer and work a power saw as we built my tree fort. As I grew older, I used my skill set to devote time to this worthy cause.

As a part of the Building Buddies commitment to helping others, we take on workers needing re-acclimation into society from hardship, namely the prison system or drug rehabilitation centers. We offer manual labor, which provides tangible completion of a project, allowing our recruits to see what they’ve done for someone else. The hope is production gives former inmates a sense of accomplishment. In addition, we teach trade skills that can lead to jobs in construction, landscape, design, and utility services. It gives me great pride to be a member of the board and an active participant in the building projects themselves.

I’d heard of Jake Drummond before I met him at the site. We’d been prepped as to who he was. Prison sentence for arson. Prior work as an electrician. We didn’t allow prejudice to mar our selection. We also didn’t want to form preconceived notions, so we don’t inquire further into a person’s backstory. If said person wanted to share his history, we listened, but it wasn’t a requirement. He was here to do a job in an effort to rebuild himself while constructing a home or facility for others. It was a fresh start at a new future, not a flashback to his tainted past.

Unfortunately, I had a niggling sensation about Jake, and it counteracts the tingling feeling between my thighs when I look at him. The arson conviction alone raised hackles on my neck. However, giving second chances is the cornerstone philosophy of Building Buddies, so I ignored those fine hairs tickling my nape. The lacking warm-fuzzies began after our first introduction, where he dismissed the beliefs of Alcoholics Anonymous while attending the meeting I chaired. The final straw was sitting on my couch at the Busy Bean.

“I’ve been called worse,” he teases in reference to the couch-thief accusation. “Blanket hog. Pillow thief.” He gives me that smirk of a grin at the bedding references, and my face heats. Instantly, I imagine him naked under blankets or with his head on a pillow facing me. I do not want to be attracted to him, but I recognize that I am on a physical level. I cannot deny a handsome man being handsome, but I do not like his attitude. He knows he’s good-looking. The dimples alone prove it, not that I can fault the dimples, but still, his smile reeks of sex and sinful things. Too bad the scent is overpowered by his attitude that stinks like burnt coffee and poor decisions.

“Huh.” I ignore him, glancing over the day’s spec sheet although I’m unable to focus enough to read a thing. Jake’s nearness distracts me. In reality, he smells good—all spicy male mixed with the scent of fresh sawdust and outdoor springtime—and I shiver. I don’t know how I’ll make it through the day. Thankfully, the studs are up, and the roof tapped down on this house. Today’s order includes window installation and hardwiring the electricity, which is Jake’s assignment as electrical work was listed as part of his skill set. I’m here to supervise. To his credit, Jake is a diligent worker. He jumped in immediately upon his arrival. He’s early to work and does additional jobs we don’t ask of him, like picking up garbage and scraps at the end of the day.

“Let me make the couch thing up to you. I’ll buy you a coffee the next time I’m sitting on it.” The implication is clear. If our paths should cross again in the Bean, he’ll be taking—and keeping—my seat on the sofa.

“How about if you just move your fine . . . just move the next time you see me?” My traitorous eyes roam his body as I speak, taking in the way his faded jeans dip on his hips, weighted down by a tool belt, and how the fit of his flannel hugs his chest. Jake runs hot, so he’ll have that thing off soon enough, giving me a show with the tight T-shirt he wears underneath the outerwear.

“You want to see my moves?” Jake teases. Bending his arms before his chest, he tips his head forward and sways his hips.

Holy sticky maple syrup.

Jake starts to dance to some song in his head, and a playlist of music runs through mine, which includes “Afternoon Delight” and “Let’s Get It On.” Quickly, I turn away from the subtle thrusts of his pelvis, slowly tapping left to right. However, those eyes of mine have their own mind, and my gaze drifts back to him, watching as he lowers his lids and bites his bottom lip. If he moves like that when he . . . and looks like that when he . . . I’d let him steal my pillow, take the blankets, and have the damn couch.

“Okay, Michael Jackson,” I snap, more aggressively than necessary.

“Michael Jackson?” His head pops up as he stills his dance. “I’m insulted. That was my best Chase Rice doing ‘Ride.’ Michael Jackson dates you a bit.”

He chuckles, but his humor hits a sore spot for me. I’m newly forty-three. Never been married. Never had children, and I’m sensing a midlife crisis coming on. Not that the crisis is like a common cold or anything. It can’t be detected by aches, chills, fever, stuffy nose, and the like. It’s more a feeling inside me that I need a change in my life. It’s time.

“Well, Chase Rice called, and he wants his groove back.”

Jake laughs harder. “Rita, you’re a hoot.”

“Speaking of dating oneself.” Who calls anyone a hoot nowadays?

“Who’s dating?” Sullivan Vance interrupts us, and I’m grateful for the intrusion from our construction manager. Sullivan is a burly guy, complete with bristle brush beard and unruly dark hair under his knit cap. Everything about him is typical Vermont and kind of cute, but nothing that attracts me enough to give in to the constant dates he’s asked of me.

“Rita wants to date Michael Jackson,” Jake states, and Sullivan glances a little wide-eyed and hurt at me.

“Is he new around here?” His dark eyes show he’s seriously questioning me.

Jake snorts before covering his mouth with a fist, pretending to cough.

“Never mind, Sully. We don’t have all day to dance. Let’s get to work,” I state, going into supervisor mode. I have a one o’clock court time, so I need to finish here by noon.

Jake starts humming whatever tune he had in his head, and I make a mental note to find that song and give it a listen. In the meantime, Sullivan leads the way to the house we’re building for a family of four who lost theirs this past winter in a fire. Jackie and Bob applied for our assistance after Bob lost his job. They didn’t have enough homeowner’s insurance for the damage done to their house, and one of their children has extensive medical bills.

By noon, we have a few windows installed. The electrical wiring is still on the docket, and Jake will take the lead while Sully assists.