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“Practical with flair.”

He crouched beside me. His hand covered mine on the wrench. “You did good.”

I grinned at him with pride. “I had a decent teacher.”

“Decent.”

“Don’t fish for compliments. It’s unattractive.”

His chuckle made me grin. “You’re unattractive.”

“You’re full of shit.” I stood and gathered my tools.

The fourth repair was a light fixture in the hallway on the third floor. The same one I’d fixed already. The bulb had burned out again, which meant something was wrong with the wiring. I didn’t know enough about wiring to fix it properly.

“Hypothetical question,” I said.

Deadeye was already pulling out his phone. “Flickering or dead?”

He played along like this was a call instead of him standing at my side. I loved that about him.

“Dead. New bulb didn’t last for shit.”

“Could be the ballast. Or the connection.” He opened a search on his phone and handed it to me. “Read. I’ll hold the stool.”

The article was straightforward, written for people with minimal electrical knowledge. It explained how to check the wiring, how to test the ballast, how to know when to call an actual electrician instead of faking it.

Following the instructions, I removed the fixture cover and examined the inside. The wiring looked old but intact. The ballast had a dark spot on one end that probably meant it was failing.

“I think it’s the ballast,” I said.

“You sure?”

“Reasonably sure. Which is more sure than I usually am.”

“Order a replacement. We’ll install it when it comes in.”

“We?”

“I’ll help.”

I climbed down from the stool and handed him back his phone. “You’re going to help me with all my repairs forever?”

“That’s the idea.”

“What about your mechanic job?”

“If Preacher needs me, I’ll show up. Money’s not a concern for me.”

“Must be nice.” It hadn’t been for me until I refused to let it be weaponized against me. “I’m nosey as hell and dying to ask.”

“Grandma left me some money a few years ago. I haven’t touched it. Didn’t really need to.”

Which meant she’d passed away. For the first time since meeting him, Deadeye sounded a little choked up.

I threw my arms around him, squeezing tight. “I’m sorry you lost your granny.”

Instead of playing it off, Deadeye returned the hug, holding onto me for several minutes. “Thank you, sparkles.”