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“Oh, hi. Gracie?” He shot me an easy grin that seemed a touch too practiced.

“Yes?” I racked my brain trying to figure out who this shaggy-haired blond guy was and how he knew my name.

“There a reason you’re here?” Monroe asked, his arm brushing my shoulder, lighting up my nerve endings. “Actually, doesn’t matter. Leave.”

Okay, maybe it was hot when he barked out single syllables.

The guy stood a little taller. The movement jostled the red box clutched in his hand, and the metal banging against metal jogged my memory.

“My sink! Oh my gosh, you’re…”

“Jared,” he supplied, after a few seconds.

“Right, totally knew that.” A nervous laugh slipped out as his eyes wandered over me like I was a piece of meat, not seeming to care about the 6’4” wall of irritated man looming over my shoulder.

“What’s Jared here for?”

Monroe practically spat out the guy’s name, and I swore he was closing the already minuscule distance between our bodies. Cotton brushed against my back—there wasn’t enough room to slide a sheet of paper between Monroe and me.

“I’m her date.”

Monroe tensed at the words, and I winced. This would happen right as he was starting to like me. Okay, like was a little strong…right when he was starting to tolerate me.

I plastered on a fake smile, hoping I could release some of the crackling tension without getting majorly burned.

“I am so sorry, Jared. I totally forgot I had a meeting today.” I tried boxing Monroe out, but he kept creeping forward anyway.

“Why do you have a toolbox?” he asked, tipping his chin toward the guy’s hand.

“Oh, she asked if I could fix her sink.”

There was a pause. Both men stared at me as if waiting for an explanation. But before I could give one, Monroe’s fingers entwined with mine, his calluses deliciously rough against my palm, and he pulled me behind him, ignoring my protests.

“Sink’s fixed, Jared, and her schedule’s busy.”

The door slammed in the guy’s face, the frame vibrating for a few moments after.

“Well, that’s not a great start to cultivating a new image,” I said, hands landing on my hips.

Monroe’s back tensed, the white tee showing every ripple and dip of his muscles. “Why do you have a random stranger showing up to fix a sink?” He asked, turning around.

I shrugged, trying to keep my irritation in check.

“Any work I need done, I get a date to do it for me.” I flipped my diary to the page with my list of shit I needed fixed. “I get to check off a task, and it usually comes with dinner and getting laid. Win, win, win.”

He snatched my notebook from my hands.

“Hey, what the hell?” The sound of paper ripping filled the little studio. I stood there, slack-jawed, as he stuffed the torn paper into his jeans. “You just stole my list.”

“Come on. We’re going to be late.”

He yanked the door open, leaving it open for me to follow.

I ran after him. “You do know that I can write the list again. I still need those things done.”

His truck's engine roared to life, cutting me off. He quirked a brow from behind the windshield and whistled, tipping his head toward the passenger seat as if he were calling a dog to heel. My mouth fell open. The audacity of men was astounding. Retraining is going so well…

I climbed up into the seat, leather and pine tickling my nose. “A gentleman would have opened my door.”