Dirty Work: A Bad Boy Romance

Dirty Work: A Bad Boy Romance by Sophie Brooks Page A

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Authors: Sophie Brooks
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that nicely.  
    I followed him into the living room and reached for my purse. I pulled out forty dollars, effectively halving the amount of money I had for the rest of the week. Unless I hit the ATM before then, which would be a very bad idea. For about the thousandth time in the past year, I wondered if I should’ve stuck with renting. This house was a money pit.  
    Jake took the cash and raised an eyebrow.  
    “What?” I said.  
    “What else?”  
    “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, even though I did.  
    “I mean, Fiona , if you want me to do something else, show me now. Don’t pretend to forget and then call me while I’m at the hardware store. Don’t wait until I’m walking out the door and then say ‘Oh by the way.’”  
    “That’s the only thing. Really.” I said. “Mostly.”  
    He rolled his eyes again. “Do you have to waste my time and insult my intelligence? Maybe do just one or the other, but not both.” Jake had always had the ability to sound sexy and sarcastic at the same time.
    “Well ... okay. One of the cabinet doors pops open and won’t stay shut. Almost knocked me out the other day.”  
    I followed him into the kitchen and watched as he ripped off the tape holding the cabinet shut. Sure enough, the door opened on its own, coming to rest at a ninety-degree angle.
    "I’ll get a magnetic catch. Anything else?”  
    “Nope. That’s it. Thanks.”  
    He nodded and headed toward the front door.  
    “Well ... ”  
    He sighed and came back into the kitchen.  
    Forty-five minutes later, Jake was back with the new window crank and the other things I’d needed. Apparently, he hadn't had any qualms about spending the rest of my money on food. The scent of fried chicken had preceded him through the door.  
    We ate on bar stools at the kitchen counter which the real estate agent had told me was a ‘breakfast nook.’ She’d been much more truthful about nice features like the breakfast nook than she’d been about how much upkeep the place needed.  
    “How’s work?” Jake asked.  
    “Pretty much the same.” I’d been an assistant at the local library since graduating from college three years ago. “How’s your job?” He was a contractor who did a lot of construction work.  
    “Not bad. Getting some overtime.”  
    “Good, then you can pay for the chicken.”  
    “I’m cheap labor, Red. Cheap, but not free.”  
    I nibbled on a chicken wing, though I never much saw the point of those unless they were smothered in barbecue sauce. A question rose in my mind and escaped my lips before I could pull it back. “Are you seeing anyone? I heard something about Stacie.”  
    He took his time, scraping the dark meat off a leg with his teeth. Finally, he put the bone down, stood up, and washed his hands at the sink. “I see a lot of people,” he said.  
    Which, of course, was true but not what I meant. My friend Alison had seen him with Stacie a time or two at a local bar, but she said they hadn’t been all over each other. Not like Jake and I used to be. Lisa, whose husband was friends with Jake, didn’t know if they were a couple, either. It was maddening.  
    Jake worked on the cupboard door while I cleaned up. Then I grabbed a new book from the stack I’d borrowed from the library today. I had to get my mind off Mr. Tall, Blond, and Evasive, or I’d go crazy. But first I asked if there was anything I could do to help.  
    “No,” he said. "Okay if I go down in the basement when I’m done? I left my miter saw down there.”  
    “Of course,” I said, and walked through the house to the front porch, settling on the creaky wooden swing. How unfair that Jake wasn’t just eye candy. And he wasn’t just a handyman or cheap labor either. He was my ex-boyfriend, and until three months ago, he’d lived here with me. And now he didn’t, and he might be seeing someone named Stacie. Maybe.  
    Life would be so much easier if I could afford to hire a

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