Page 5 of Oops I Fell For The Electrician Next Door

She turns away to study the row of dark cabins. The sun has dropped behind the mountain, leaving the lake silver and the spaces beneath the pines shadowed. Cabins Four through Six look strangely empty without the warm porch lights that distinguish Eight Pines from every other rental property along this part of the shore.

“I have a family reunion arriving Friday,” she says. “They reserved six cabins almost a year ago. Four generations, twenty-three people, and enough food to survive a blizzard.”

Today is Monday. Even before Nolan completes his testing, I can see the calculation behind her eyes. Three cabins represent nearly half the beds she promised them.

"Do you have another property where you can place them?"

"Not together. I can call two owners I know, but neither has three cabins open this close to the weekend." She wraps her arms around herself, whether from the cooling air or worry I cannot tell. "I won't put them in a property that isn't safe. If we can't fix it, I'll cancel and return every cent."

There is no hesitation when she says it. The financial blow will hurt her, but the decision is already made.

"Let's find out what failed before we cancel anything."

"We?"

"Nolan said he could use an extra set of hands. I can help him test it tomorrow. If he needs me beyond that, you and I will discuss it before I do any work."

"You have your own job."

"My crew starts at six and finishes at three-thirty. What I do afterward is my business."

"Not if you're exhausted on the job your employer is paying you to do."

Her concern catches me off guard. Most people who learn I am an electrician begin listing outlets, ceiling fans, and mysterious noises they want me to examine. Kelsey has a legitimate problem, yet she is thinking about whether helping her could affect my work.

"I know my limits," I tell her.

"So do I."

The words may be a warning, but the look in her eyes is not. Awareness moves between us again, hot and unmistakable. I remember her body against mine in the lake and the soft sound she made when my arm tightened around her. She remembers it too. I can tell by the color rising over her throat.

I should go inside, take a shower, and begin this stay again tomorrow.

Instead, I step closer and let the attraction show. "Do your limits include feeding the guest you knocked into the lake?"

Her lips part. Then one eyebrow rises. "I knocked you in?"

"That's how I remember it."

"You should have your memory checked along with the wiring," she says, smiling with only one side of her mouth.

"Is that a no?"

Kelsey looks toward her cabin. Warm light glows through the windows, untouched by the problem affecting the others. Her porch faces mine across a shared strip of lawn no wider than a modest living room. Close enough for me to see her every morning. Close enough to notice every night she works too late.

"I made a pot of chili yesterday," she says. "You can have a bowl while we discuss tomorrow. This is a business dinner."

"Business only, huh?"

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm convinced there's going to be dinner."

She shakes her head and starts toward Cabin Eight. I follow at a respectful distance, which also gives me an unobstructed view of her curves. Six weeks suddenly feels like a dangerously short amount of time.

Chapter Three

Kelsey