Lizzy pov
The boys burst through the shop door like a storm I should have seen coming.
"Mom, I'm starving!" Evan announces at full volume, already halfway across the room before I've even stepped properly inside.
"Can we have brownies?" James adds, dropping his bag with a thud that makes me wince instinctively.
The quiet, cozy atmosphere of the shop shatters instantly under their energy, laughter and noise filling the space in a way that feels both familiar and completely overwhelming.
I exhale under my breath, shifting the grocery bags higher on my arm as I nudge the door closed behind me.
Why I ever thought bringing them straight here after school was a good idea, I don't know.
"Shoes off," I call automatically, already slipping into routine. "And inside voices, please."
They ignore the second part completely.
Lindiwe appears almost immediately, moving toward me with an easy smile, reaching for the bags before I can even ask.
"Let me help you," she says, taking two from my hands.
"Thank you," I murmur, relief slipping into my voice before I can stop it.
"Hi boys," she adds brightly, glancing toward them as they hover near the counter, already eyeing the display.
"Hi, Lindi," James says, far more politely than his earlier entrance would suggest.
"Oh—Lizzy," she continues casually, shifting the bags onto the counter, "the handyman is here looking at the dishwasher."
I blink.
"What handyman?" I ask, turning slightly.
And then I see him.
Everything inside me… stops.
For a second, I forget how to move.
How to breathe.
How to think.
Because standing there, framed in the doorway of the kitchen like he belongs there—
is Wade.
And God, could this man possibly get any more beautiful?
The black Henley clings to him in a way that should honestly be illegal, stretching across his chest, outlining every sculpted line of his body like it was designed specifically to ruin women's lives. The sleeves are pushed up just enough to expose his forearms, and I can see the faint flex of muscle as he shifts his weight slightly.
My throat goes dry.
He lifts his hand in a small, almost casual wave.
Like this is normal.
Like he just… shows up in my life now.
Like he didn't completely turn my world sideways the last time I saw him.
"Boys," I say quickly, forcing my voice to work again, even though it comes out a little thinner than I intend, "go sit down. Lindi will bring you brownies and ice cream in a bit."
Their attention snaps to that immediately.
"Really?" Evan asks, eyes lighting up.
"Yes, really," I say, already ushering them toward the small table in the corner.
"Sit. Stay. Don't touch anything."
They rush off, whispering excitedly, and Lindiwe disappears behind the counter to get their snacks.
And suddenly, it's just me.
And him.
And the space between us feels… charged.
I start walking toward him, but it doesn't feel natural.
Like I'm moving through wet cement, every step deliberate, my body far too aware of him standing there, watching me.
My heart pounds so loudly in my ears I'm half convinced he can hear it.
When I reach him, I become painfully aware of everything all at once.
The way he's looking at me.
The way his gaze moves over me, slow, deliberate, unapologetic.
Not a glance.
Not polite.
He's taking me in.
Like he's committing it to memory.
"I am loving that skirt, granny," he says, his voice low, threaded with that same teasing warmth, a quiet chuckle following the words.
For a second, I blink at him.
"What skirt?"
And then realise in horror, he means my skirt. The ridiculous pink one with flamingos scattered all over it.
Heat floods my cheeks instantly, the realization hitting too late as I glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of myself.
When I look back up, he's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, those stormy grey eyes locked onto me like he hasn't looked away once.
The sight immediately reminds me of characters from all my favourite romance books. All he needs now is a scary mask and he would literally be my book boyfriend come to life.
"Uh, how did you become our new handyman?" I ask, aiming for light, but there's something underneath it that betrays me.
How could he possibly have know about the dishwasher giving issues.
He shrugs slightly, like it's the simplest thing in the world.
"I gave Lindi my number," he says. "In case anything else broke."
There's a pause.
Then his gaze sharpens just slightly.
"I figured you'd be too proud to ask for help yourself."
I huff out a quiet breath, folding my arms loosely across my chest, trying to ground myself in something familiar.
And of course he's right.
I would never have asked anyone for help.
I would have managed without the dishwasher, worked around it, cursed it under my breath until it frustrated me enough to finally replace it.
Because that's what I do. I handle things.
On my own.
"And you just… showed up?" I ask.
His mouth curves into that knee weakening smile and suddenly I'm way less upset with him being here.
"You needed help. So yes, I showed up."
My chest tightens. Because he says it like it's obvious. Like of course he would come.
Like of course he would show up.
And that unsettles me more than anything else.
Because Daniel wouldn't. He would have to me to replace it and that's it. He wouldn't even have checked if it was a small issues. I'm not sure he would have even known how to check.
My gaze drifts past him into the kitchen, where the dishwasher sits half-open, tools laid out neatly, everything methodical and precise in a way that feels so… him.
"You didn't have to," I say softly.
"I know. But I wanted to."
The answer comes easily.
No hesitation.
No expectation.
And something in my chest twists.
I shift slightly, meaning to move past him into the kitchen.
As I step around him, he straightens from the wall and his hand comes out almost automatically, brushing over my lower back as I step past him.
But my body reacts to his touch immediately. My breath catches sharply, the contact sending a sudden, unexpected spark up my spine that settles low in my stomach before I can stop it.
I freeze for half a second and turn my head to look up at him.
He's looking at me through dark lashes and I wonder if he knows exactly what he is doing to me.
I quick look back to the dishwasher, to the towel laid out with all the tiny screws and tools laid out so perfectly.
I step into the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter like I need something solid, my pulse racing in a way that feels completely disproportionate to something so small.
I take a few deep breaths through my nose and let them out slowly through my mouth.
Calm down Lizzy.
But the fluttering in my stomach and the uncomfortable heat building between my thighs is making it extremely difficult to focus on anything but the the six-foot-sonething man behind me.
"You're going to make this a habit, aren't you?" I ask, forcing the words out, trying to bring us back to something safe.
There's a pause behind me, then footsteps as he steps closer. My pulse spikes again.
His hand rests at warm and gentle at my lower back, and I can feel his breath on my neck as he leans down to speak near my ear
"If you let me."
The combination of his words, his hot breath against the shell of my ear, his hand at my waist all feels too much. It feels like I've stepped into a world so forgein from my own that I don't even know where I fit in anymore.
I hear Evan laugh in the shop and it snaps me right back. I turn around quickly but inside of being met with space, I'm met with Wade's face right in front of mine. His arm now around my waist.
My breath catches again and a sharp ache pulse low in my stomach.
I step back abruptly, almost knocking the shopping bags from the counter.
"We might need to set some ground rules of you're going to keep showing up like this." I say, a little out of breath.
He huffs a quiet laugh but he's smiling again.
"I can follow rules. Mostly."