Chapter 3
Of all the sexy handymen in the world, he has to be mine?
Sophia
I stretch as I wake up. I frown when I feel the warm sun shining on my face. Did I forget to close the curtains last night?
I force my eyes open. There are curtains on the window but those aren’t the black-out curtains I have hanging up in my bedroom in my apartment in Atlanta. These curtains are frilly and not what I would have chosen.
Oh, right. I’m not in Atlanta anymore. I’m back on Smuggler’s Hideaway.
I glance at the clock. Eight a.m. Entirely too early to be awake after driving all weekend to get home.
Home? The island of Smuggler’s Hideaway is no longer my home. It hasn’t been in over a decade.
Except I agreed to come back home and work as the marketing manager for Five Fathoms Brewing after I got fired from my previous job. Nepotism is the worst.
That campaign was my idea! I worked on the pitch for a month. Stupid Shane and his big lying mouth. My boss knew darn well the idea and work was mine. And yet he refused to defend me.
Enough! I can lay here and feel sorry for myself all day, or I can empty my car and unpack.
Since I’ve never been one to lie around and feel sorry for myself – revenge is a better option in my opinion – I roll out of bed and get ready for the day.
I spend the morning unpacking my things. I left my furniture in Atlanta – it was mostly cheap stuff I bought after graduating from college and in need of replacement anyway – but I have plenty of clothes, bedroom stuff, and kitchenware to unpack.
My stomach growls as I finish putting my dishes away in the kitchen. I check the time on the oven. Nearly noon. No wonder I’m starving. I debate eating before I shower but I’m a sweaty, stinky mess. Shower it is.
I dig my toiletries and a towel out of a box before making my way to the bathroom in the hallway. I’d love a bath to soak my sore muscles, but I don’t have time to be lazy. I have clothes to unpack.
I switch on the shower and let it warm up while I strip. I step into the tub and groan when the warm water hits my shoulder muscles. I should probably start working out if a morning of unpacking feels this strenuous.
I wet my hair and massage the shampoo in. I’m rinsing my hair when the water suddenly turns cold.
“EEK!”
I open my eyes and shampoo pours into them.
“Burn. Burn. Burn.”
I slam my eyes shut and bat at the faucet until the freezing cold water switches off. I grab my towel and wrap it around my body before using one corner to wipe my eyes. They continue to burn but at least I can see enough to climb out of the tub without ending up on my ass.
I pick my phone up from my dresser where I left it and dial the apartment building manager. “This is Sophia in apartment 7b. My water is freezing cold.”
“I’ll send someone over to deal with it.”
“Can they come soon? I was in the middle of a shower and my hair is full of shampoo.”
“I’ll send someone ASAP.”
“Thanks. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
I throw my phone on my bed and return to the bathroom. I need to deal with my eyes before I do any permanent damage. I duck my head under the faucet and let the cold water soothe the burn.
“Hello!” someone yells.
I switch off the faucet so I can hear them better. “In here!”
I wet the hand towel with cold water and place it over my eyes.
“Thank goodness you could come so quickly,” I say when I hear someone stop outside the bathroom door.
“Soph?”
Soph? No one calls me Soph except… Oh shit.
“Flynn?” I lift the towel from my eyes to confirm my suspicion.
It is him. All six-foot-two inches of him. It’s been a few months since I saw him at Christmas dinner, but he hasn’t changed. Brown, wavy hair that looks as if he spent ages working on it. But I know he wouldn’t be caught dead using product in his hair.
Blue eyes, the color of the ocean he loves to surf in. And muscular arms I want wrapped around me. Preferably while he’s naked. What I wouldn’t do for a glimpse of his strong muscles without any clothes hampering my view.
He growls. “Why the hell did you leave your door unlocked when you’re naked?”
“I was waiting for the handyman to show up. Oh shit. You’re the handyman.”
“I own this building.”
Of course, he does. It’s not enough he’s won the sexiest man on the island five years in a row. He also has to be a successful businessman while my career went up in flames. So much for returning home as a success and showing Flynn Ryland what he’s missing.
“Now, answer my question. Why are you naked?”
“I’m not naked. I’m wearing a towel.”
“A towel is not dressed. Anyone could have barged in here and taken advantage of you.”
And there we have it, folks. The reason why all my fantasies of Flynn will never come to fruition. The man considers me his little sister. Whereas my feelings for him do not resemble any feeling I have for my actual big brother Weston.
“No one’s going to attack me. We’re on Smuggler’s Hideaway. Hardly anyone locks their doors during the day.”
“Most people don’t prance around their house naked either.”
“Prancing? I’m not prancing. Besides, it’s your fault I’m in a towel.”
He rears back. “My fault. How is it my fault you’re in a towel?” His eyes narrow. “You’re not trying to seduce me again, are you?”
I glare at him. My eyes sting from the residual shampoo but I ignore the pain. “I did not try to seduce you. I was eighteen and had never been kissed. I didn’t know what seduction meant.”
And why had I never been kissed? Because I had a crush on my older brother’s best friend and didn’t want any other boy. In other words, I was a fool.
He squeezes the back of his neck, and I can’t help but be enraptured by the flex of his biceps. I bet he could pick me up and hold me against the wall without straining himself.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said seduce.”
My anger flares at the reminder of the aftermath of our one kiss. I stomp to him and poke his chest. “You know what else you shouldn’t have done? Told the entire town what happened.”
I was humiliated. He told everyone I threw myself at him and he rejected me. As if the look of disgust on his face after we kissed wasn’t enough. While I thought the kiss was the best kiss of my life, he was disgusted.
Flynn captures my hand and holds it against his chest. I can feel how warm he is, how hard his muscles are. My fingers itch to explore. To fulfill all of my fantasies about this man.
“I’m sorry. I only told Weston.”
He didn’t simply tell my brother we kissed. Nope. He told my brother I came onto him. He made me out to be some kind of hussy. I was an innocent eighteen-year-old with a crush.
I wrench my hand away from him. “Whatever. Are you going to fix my water or what?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but I ignore it. He has no right to be angry with me. I was the one who had to flee the island to get away from all the humiliation. I was the one who couldn’t enter a store or restaurant in Smuggler’s Rest without everyone in the place laughing at me.
“Go put on some clothes while I have a look.”
I motion to the shower. What I don’t do is put on clothes. My towel covers all of my private parts. It’s more than I wear to the beach.
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve changed my mind. My towel is now covering my wet, soapy hair and I’m wearing a pair of sweats while I unpack my clothes.
“Bad news,” Flynn announces as he steps into the bedroom.
I groan. “Don’t tell me. The water pipe is broken, and I’ll never get warm water again.”
He chuckles. “You always were prone to exaggeration.”
I raise my eyebrows. “But am I wrong?”
“I’m not certain what’s wrong. I need to gut the bathroom.”
“Gut the bathroom? But I don’t have another bathroom in the apartment. I can’t live here without a toilet and shower.”
He shrugs. “You can stay with your parents while I get this fixed.”
“No thanks.”
Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents. They’re awesome.
But I’m thirty years old. It’s bad enough I had to come crawling back home because my career was ruined. I don’t need to heap any more humiliation onto the existing pile.
Lucky for me, I have an excuse to not live with my parents.
“Mom turned my childhood bedroom into her craft paradise.”
He chuckles. “Isn’t the room covered in dust by now?”
I nod. It is. Mom saw some documentary about crafting and decided she was going to craft despite not having a creative bone in her body. No one besides her is surprised she never uses the room.
“You can sleep in Weston’s old bedroom.”
I shiver. “The things his mattress has seen. No thanks. I’ll stay with one of my girlfriends. It’ll be fine.”
“Your choice. I need to go. Make sure to lock up after me.”
Those words burn as they hit me. I’m not an eighteen-year-old innocent girl anymore but it doesn’t matter to Flynn. He will always think of me as a little sister. Someone to be protected and nothing more.