The Renovation: A Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  There were no signs of Lance or any other guy.

  Maybe she’d killed him. And stuffed him through the hole in the floor in the living room.

  Kidding.

  I could help them with their house. Every contractor’s dream was to tear something to the studs and build it anew. But my dad had always said to be careful who you do business with and to try to stay away from friends and neighbors. If, god forbid, anything went wrong, there would always be bad blood.

  So I came up with another idea.

  “Hey, I know a lot of contractors. I could recommend a couple.”

  She turned from whatever was sizzling on the stove. “You’re the contractor. Why aren’t you suggesting yourself?”

  Think fast.

  “Oh, um, because I’m pretty much booked. I know lots of other good folks, though.” Whew, that was close.

  She shrugged. “Eh, it’s okay. I don’t have the money for it anyway.”

  What? “You have to have money to reno the house. Unless you can do it yourself, which it doesn’t look like you can.”

  She set the food on the table, and it smelled freaking delicious. ‘Course I’d been eating so much takeout, anything fresh would have looked like a gourmet meal. And to sit with this beautiful woman, whose boyfriend was MIA.

  Jackpot.

  I reminded myself to behave. Part of the reason I’d barely spoken to her the whole time she’d lived there was that she was with that guy.

  I wasn’t sure I believed the “business trip” story. But I did know I had a thing for this woman, and if the douchebag was stepping aside, I was going to look into stepping inside.

  Chapter 3

  JAYMA

  I’d never paid much attention to my neighbor Carter before, but damn, he was a good-looking guy with his deep dimples and sparkly blue eyes. He’d always seemed friendly enough, but Lance was never into getting to know the neighbors, so I’d just never bothered with any of them, either.

  Maybe things would be different now.

  It was nice to have company for dinner. The place had been awfully empty lately and even more dumpy than ever with Lance out. Not that I was sorry he was gone. I was only sorry I’d spent part of my life with his lame ass, having let him talk me into putting this mess of a house in my name because he had too much debt from law school. And he’d left me with his cat. Although I did like the cat.

  He’d been making seventy-five percent of the monthly payment, and I threw in the other twenty-five. It was pretty equitable when you looked at both our incomes. Then, he paid the bills from our joint account. Except for when he didn’t. Like the last few months, apparently.

  And now a handsome neighbor sat across from me at my dining table, instead of Lance. I probably should have been embarrassed to bring him in the house, but it was so obvious it was going to be renovated that it didn’t matter what the “before” looked like. Only with the way things were going, there was going to be no “after.” The “before” would continue as the status quo. And I’d get kicked out and have to move in with Shelle. And her dogs.

  “Thank you for dinner,” Carter said, taking his plate to the sink.

  The only time Lance took his plate off the table was when I asked him to. Which I had to do all the time.

  Carter leaned back against the kitchen sink. “That was a great dinner, thank you. Wanna walk down the street for ice cream?”

  “Oh, yeah. Let’s do it.” Nice, thoughtful.

  On the way to the corner store, Carter’s hand brushed mine. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like it might have been on purpose. It had been so long since anyone besides Lance had touched me, it felt strange. Like putting on a new pair of shoes. Foreign. Different. But okay.

  Once we were served, we stood outside the shop in that ice cream coma people get where they just lick their cones. The one where they stop talking and just look off in the distance like they’ve been transported to a better place by their tasty treat.

  “Hey. Can I tell you something?” Carter asked.

  “Um, yeah. Sure.” A drip of chocolate coconut ran down my hand, and I licked it off. Never waste ice cream.

  “I’d always thought about asking you out, except you had—I mean, have—a boyfriend.”

  What? Shit. Did he know something? Ugh. I didn’t want him, or anyone besides Shelle, to know Lance had dumped me. I was just too embarrassed by the whole thing, and explaining what had gone down would have been excruciating. I’d have to do it at some point, but I wasn’t ready yet, and besides, this guy was pretty much a stranger anyway.

  I stopped licking my cone long enough to look at him. His light brown hair shone in the streetlights. I didn’t know the guy from a hole in the wall—I mean, I’d met him before, sort of. But I was beginning to like what I saw.

  Good thing it was dark, because I felt my face flushing. “Thank you, Carter. That’s sweet.” It felt so old-fashioned, to be standing on the curb, eating ice cream under a streetlamp, and have a boy say something nice. It took me away from my worries for a moment.

  He looked up at the dark sky. “Yeah, well.”

  We headed home, and wouldn’t you know, his hand brushed mine again, not once, but twice. As if he were testing me.

  Could he know Lance was gone? No. No way.

  And he certainly didn’t know the house was on its way to foreclosure. He couldn’t know Lance had skipped the last few payments. Unless he was some sort of mind reader.

  This guy might have thought he wanted to go out with me, but that’s only because he was blissfully unaware of the shit situation I was in the middle of.

  We stopped at the end of my driveway, ice cream long gone. Carter stuffed his hands in his pockets and raised his shoulders as if he were stretching.

  “I have an early morning. Thank you for dinner,” he said, moving his gaze toward me.

  Wow. Awkward. But why? I thought to shake his hand but mine was all sticky from the ice cream. Plus, it would just be weird.

  “I’m glad you could join me. It was nice getting to know you.”

  He nodded and just stood there.

  “Well, um, Jayma. Would you like to go for a drink sometime?” he asked.

  Good grief. Either he’s an asshole for hitting on another dude’s girl, or he figured out Lance bailed and that I’m sad and lonely.

  So I decided to test him.

  I raised my eyebrows. “But, you know about my boyfriend, Lance, right?”

  “Yeah. What about him?”

  He gave me a look that could only be described as seeing right through my bullshit.

  Damn.

  I looked everywhere but at him while I gathered my response.

  “You know, don’t you?” I asked.

  He just gave me a little smile.

  Busted.

  “Okay. Lance is not on a business trip. Well, he could be on a business trip, but when he returns, he’s not coming home to me.” Sadness caused a little strangling sensation in my throat. I had to get inside. I couldn’t cry in front of some guy I barely knew.

  Carter tilted his head and said, “I know.”

  I nodded. “You know.”

  “Yup,” he said.

  Okay. Wow. Caught in a lie.

  “How’d you figure it out?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t hard. First of all, you invited me over. You wouldn’t have done that with someone like Lance in the picture. Second, there were no signs of him in the house.”

  I looked at the ground for a moment, feeling like an even bigger loser than I’d felt before Carter came over to look at my falling-apart house. Wait ‘til he found out I was about to be homeless.

  “You’re a smart guy there, Carter,” I said.

  He raised his hands in that what can I say? gesture.

  “But I tell ya what,” I continued. “You’re my neighbor, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea to, you know…” I sputtered, “go out.”

  “All right. If that’s how you feel…” He smiled and s
hrugged. “Thank you again for dinner. I owe you.” He turned to walk up to his own house.

  Well, shit.

  “Carter,” I called.

  He turned slowly. I couldn’t see much in the dark, but he sure was hot in his baggy work pants.

  “Yes.”

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes, let’s go for a drink.”

  “Oh.” He nodded slowly. “Cool. Next Wednesday night?”

  “Yeah. That would be great.” I watched him walk up to his house and close his front door. His porch light flicked on.

  I walked up to my house and went inside. I flicked on my porch light, too.

  ‘Course, it didn’t work.

  Hey, girl!” Shelle said, flying into the hip Distrikt wine bar like a slightly breathless mess. She grinned at me with her adorable gap-toothed smile and threw me a hug.

  “What can I get you?” I asked her.

  “Um. Beer. I feel like a beer.” She settled onto her stool and turned to face me while I waved the bartender over.

  “This is a wine bar, Shelle.”

  “Right. Right. Wine. White wine,” she said, batting her eyes at the bartender. “You pick for me, okay?” she asked him.

  She captivated everyone, and this guy was no exception. He pulled several bottles from the cooler, an indication he was going to let her do a little tasting.

  He hadn’t offered to do that for me.

  “So, how’s the business?” I asked her.

  She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. “Growing. Like crazy! I think I’ll have to hire some helpers.” She turned to sample the wines the bartender had poured.

  “Oh, this one is good. I’ll have the sauv blanc,” she told him, and he dutifully poured her a huge glass.

  “I got my license and am now a certified dog walker!”

  Who knew there was a certification for walking dogs?

  “So what does that mean?” I asked. “I guess it’s better for the business?”

  “Absolutely. First, I get a little break on my insurance.”

  “You have to have insurance for walking dogs?”

  “No. You don’t have to. But I’m making it one of my competitive advantages.”

  She’d always had a certain level of ambition.

  “That’s so awesome, sweetie. I’m really happy for you.”

  “What about you? Heard from Lance? The asshole. I never liked him, you know,” she said. “Mmmm, this wine is really good. Wanna taste?”

  Why do people never tell you they don’t like your boyfriends until after you break up?

  “He packed up his shit. He’s gone. Including his portion of the mortgage payment. Which I cannot cover.” Shit, that familiar lump in my throat was back.

  Shelle reached for my hand.

  “I’m sorry. The whole thing is just so shitty.”

  “Yeah. I have thirty days to get current on the loan. I thought he’d been making the payments, but he’d stopped a few months ago. Fucker.” Damn. The tears began to fall.

  Shelle dabbed my face with a bar napkin and handed me another in anticipation of a runny nose.

  “Okay, then. What about selling it? I mean, can you make some of the improvements quick enough to get a decent price?”

  She had a point. I wondered if anyone would help me with the house and let me pay them after it sold with the proceeds.

  “The whole point of buying the house was that we could flip it quickly. There’s a lot to be done, and I’m not sure we could do it before the bank comes to take it. But maybe…”

  “All right. Now we’re cooking with gas.” She loved sayings like that.

  “On a positive note, my neighbor asked me out.”

  She slapped my thigh.

  “Damn! You’re not even single a week and look at you with a date.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Well. I wouldn’t say I have a date, per se. I mean, I guess it’s a date. If you want to call it that.”

  “Who’s the guy? Have I ever seen him over there?”

  “No. I never really knew him until the other day. He’s hot as hell, though. Tall, with dimples. Super buff. He’s a contractor.”

  Shelle looked at me like she’d won the lottery.

  “What? What did you say?”

  “Oh, you know, that he’s tall. Pretty eyes. Really long eyelashes—”

  “No, you idiot. You said he’s a contractor.”

  Oh. I get it.

  I shook my head hard. “No. Shelle, I can’t ask him to work on my house. It would be too weird.”

  She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Girl, you have a lot on the line here. Use your head. Or maybe another body part.”

  She threw her head back and laughed with her gap-toothed grin.

  Chapter 4

  Tanner

  How did I get into such a situation?

  I was the only dude in the room. That, in itself, was not a problem. The advertising business had more women than men, generally, so that was business as usual for me.

  But to be the only guy in a room of eleven women discussing tampons?

  Fuck. I did not sign up for this. I mean, did I really need to know which of my coworkers had a heavy monthly flow? Or which ones got sore breasts? Or what size tampons everyone preferred?

  I didn’t even know they came in sizes.

  Are you even allowed to talk about shit like this at work, anyway?

  But I guess when your client is the world’s biggest tampon brand, then period talk was a given. If you can’t stand the heat, then get out of the kitchen, and all that…

  I got a few glances during the meeting, but my presence did nothing to hamper the conversation.

  The stuff of my nightmares.

  And I’d already asked my boss to take me off the account.

  “Marilyn, why do you want a guy working with a tampon client? I mean, what could I possibly contribute?” I asked her.

  “First of all, there is nothing wrong with menstruation—”

  “I didn’t say there was! It’s just that since I don’t menstruate, I don’t see what value I’d be adding to the discussion.” Jesus Christ, get me off this fucking account.

  “Tanner,” she started, using her patient voice that was code for I’m going to get pissed if you don’t back off, “you are the best media buyer in the company. This client is a huge win for us, and I put together the strongest team we have. A little period talk won’t kill you.”

  She turned back to her computer, code for this discussion is over.

  I’d worked with her for a long time. I knew her codes.

  Shit.

  I exited her office, steeling myself for a new life immersed in feminine hygiene products, when a loud voice boomed from the office’s reception area, nearby. It wasn’t a happy one.

  “I told you I needed this done right away,” a male voice bellowed.

  A subdued female voice responded. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I had a feeling she was in what they called “a one-down position.” You know—powerless. I poked my head into the reception area.

  “Hey, guys. All good here?” I asked.

  Standing there was Bob, the douchebag from finance, and our receptionist, whose eyes were wide in her bright red face. One might say she looked terrified.

  What was her name again?

  Bob opened his big trap to start mouthing off again but seemed to think better of it. In a huff, he brushed past me and headed back toward his office.

  The receptionist, whose name I suddenly remembered—Jayma—was blowing her nose and dabbing her red eyes.

  “What happened, Jayma? Are you okay?”

  She sniffled.

  “Yes. I’m fine.” She shuffled papers around on her desk to avoid looking at me. “I’m really fine. Thank you.” She looked up at me. Mmmm, cute with big brown eyes.

  “Okay. Okay. I can punch him out for you, if you like. Or just fuck up his email.”

  She looked at me, brows knit.
r />   And she burst out laughing.

  My specialty. Breaking up tension. Making people laugh. Talking about periods.

  She took a deep breath. “It’s all good. It was just a misunderstanding. Of course, I’m happy to help Bob.”

  Shit, I don’t know why I’d not paid more attention to this woman before. She was fucking gorgeous with her crazy red hair and freckles.

  “Jayma?”

  “Yes?” she asked brightly.

  “I’m Tanner.”

  “I know you’re Tanner,” she said.

  “Right. Right. How long have you worked here?”

  “Um, let’s see. Nearly two years.”

  “Geez. I don’t think we’ve ever had a receptionist stay that long.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m hoping to have the chance to work on some accounts at some point. You know, move up the ladder.”

  Cool. She had some ambition.

  “You know, I started in the mailroom,” I said.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She smiled like she’d been busted. “I guess I’ve made it a point to learn how all the senior management got to be so successful.”

  “Tanner?”

  I whipped around to see Marilyn.

  “Are you joining us in our next meeting? Or do you plan to stay out here and chat all day?”

  God, she could be a bitch. She was good at what she did, but she kicked me in the balls every chance she got.

  “Be right there, Marilyn,” I called over my shoulder.

  I turned back to Jayma, who was trying to keep a smile off her face. I couldn’t blame her. I’d laugh, too.

  “So, you coming to the work happy hour tonight?” I asked.

  She frowned but then immediately brightened up. “Yeah. Yeah I am. Do you know where it is? I can’t remember.”

  “Um. Belden’s. It’s at Belden’s. Well good, then. I gotta run.”

  “See ya.”

  I finally had a meeting where I was not the only man, this time for a client who made automobile air filters. Car parts were about as unsexy as you could get, but it was nice to work on a manly product after two hours of tampon talk. And the cool thing was, the filters were in every car and truck, and when they wore out, they needed replacing. Point being, the market for them was huge, and there was a ton of money to be made. And they’d just hired us to run their ad campaigns.