Page 10 of Oops I Fell For The Electrician Next Door

"I have until tomorrow before I need to make that call."

I want to tell her she will not have to make it. That I will repair whatever is wrong and keep every cabin lit, but confidence is not a substitute for facts. I refuse to promise Kelsey something simply because I want to erase the tension around her mouth.

"Tonight," I repeat.

She nods. I leave before I forget my crew, the drive, and every professional reason not to pull her against me in the doorway.

The commercial project is exactly the mess I expected. Half the original circuits are mislabeled, two junction boxes are hidden above a finished ceiling, and the property owner believes a six-week schedule is evidence that we can complete eight weeks of work in five. By three-thirty, I have answered dozens of questions, revised the work plan, and prevented an apprentice from energizing a panel while another man still had his hands inside it.

I should be exhausted when I turn beneath the Eight Pines sign.

Instead, the sight of Kelsey standing beside Nolan's van sends a fresh rush of energy through me. She has changed into jeans and a fitted aqua blue shirt. Her hair falls around her shoulders, catching the sun as she turns toward my truck. I have spent the entire day remembering how close I came to wrapping it around my fist while I kissed her in my imagination.

Nolan is in his late fifties, wiry and sun-browned, with the compact movements of a man who has been crawling through attics for most of his life. He checks my license information, asks three questions about the commercial project, and then gives me a nod that constitutes professional acceptance.

"Kelsey says you're willing to help test the run," he says.

"If she hires me."

Her gaze moves between us. "We haven't discussed a rate."

I name the amount I earn for independent work. It is fair without being cheap, and Kelsey does not flinch.

"Put it in writing," she says. "Hours, scope, and materials separate."

"Already drafted."

Surprise crosses her face when I pull the printed agreement from my truck. "You carry a printer?"

"The cabin has one."

"I put that there for guests who need boarding passes."

"It also prints contracts."

Nolan snorts. "You two going to flirt, or are we going to find this fault before dark?"

"We aren't flirting," Kelsey and I answer together.

Nolan looks toward the lake, wisely keeping whatever he thinks to himself.

The first test confirms that the fault is not limited to the damaged lug. Resistance on one conductor is higher than it should be, and the insulation test gives us a reading that changes when Nolan applies pressure near the conduit bend shown on the old plans. We isolate each section until the problem narrows to a run between Cabin Five and the secondary distribution point beyond Cabin Six.

"Likely water in a coupling," Nolan says. "Could be damaged conduit. Could be an animal decided plastic tastes good."

Kelsey stands on the other side of the barrier we placed around the panel. "How much has to come out?"

"We'll expose both ends and the bend first," I tell her. "If we're lucky, we replace one section instead of the full run."

"And if we aren't?"

"The full run."

Kelsey doesn’t show any panic, but I see the calculation begin again. Materials. Labor. Lost bookings. The endless list of costs hidden behind the peaceful view she sells to guests.

"What is the fastest safe timeline?" she asks.

Nolan scratches his jaw. "I can get conduit and wire by Thursday. Earliest inspection would be Friday morning if the county can fit us in. That's assuming Marc helps and we don't uncover anything worse."