Free Husband for Hire by Susan Crosby Page A

“I’m not. And I don’t want to talk about it again.”
    Her decision to stay single pained her, he realized. Deeply. What drove you to choose that, Becca?
    He leaned over and kissed her, as if he had no control over his actions. Maybe he didn’t.
    â€œHave a good day, honey,” he said, attempting to make her laugh, to lighten the moment.
    But as the door closed, she only looked confused.
    Join the club, he thought as he walked back to her unit. He found Shana sketching, a measuring tape in hand. He became her assistant, and she kindly asked no personal questions.
    He didn’t let on about his doubts she could handle a job this big. But more than most people, she needed someone’s vote of confidence, and he needed to give it.
    He hadn’t spent this much time with Shana in years—for as long as he could remember, actually. Maybe ever. He’d thought their sister Dixie had gotten all the organizational skills in the family, but Shana surprised him. She came up with a plan before they left the loft, and by the end of the very long day, she’d ordered everything except a light to go overthe new dining-room table, and a few accessories. Deliveries would start the next day. She would come back Friday night to stage the rooms.
    â€œThis has been fun,” Shana said as they dropped onto the sofa to share chips and salsa at the end of the day.
    â€œI don’t know how you keep track of it all. My head’s spinning.”
    â€œI already see it finished. There’s a spot right over there—” she pointed to the wall behind where the dining set would go “—that will need filling. I could pick out something, but I think she should. Maybe she has some art that would fit.”
    â€œShe has photo albums and pictures in frames.”
    â€œIt needs something colorful. A painting, maybe, but a sculptural piece with some depth is better. A touch of burnt orange would be good, too, to go with some of the other accessories. Can you take her shopping?” She set her heels on the coffee table and crossed her ankles.
    â€œI guess.”
    â€œA new glass-tile backsplash in the kitchen would be perfect, just along the far wall. It’s a pretty small space, so it’s doable,” she said, looking around. “And she really should paint the living room/dining room space, but I don’t think there’s time for either of those things by Saturday. It’s almost impossible to line someone up that fast. I’m totally booked, or I would do it myself.”
    â€œI could do it.”
    Shana laughed.
    Gavin took offense. “Why is that so funny?”
    She picked up his hand and ran her fingers over it.
    â€œSoft. Smooth. Hands that don’t do manual labor.”
    It was all the challenge he needed. “You pick out the paint and tile. I’ll have it done by Friday at noon.”
    â€œThis I’ve gotta see.” She grinned. “What are we betting?”
    â€œWhat do you want, if you win?”
    â€œA tune-up for my car.”
    She continued to smile but her unfrivolous request stabbed at him. She traveled a lot of miles every day, almost always commuting to Sacramento, two hours, round-trip. She should be driving something reliable, not the heap she owned. Barring that, it should at least be maintained well.
    â€œDeal,” he said. “And if I win, you owe me a thorough cleaning of my place in the city.”
    â€œWell, that’s win-win for me,” she said. “At the very least, I’ll get to spend a couple of days in San Francisco. Let’s shake on it.” She stood. “And on that note, I’ll take off before you fully realize your generous mistake. I’ll stop by the store on my way out of town to choose the paint and the tile. If they don’t deliver, maybe Becca can pick it all up at lunch tomorrow.”
    She almost skipped out the door. Gavin grabbedhis cell phone and placed a