☽Ⓛ❈Ⓒ☾

I pull my truck up in front of the country farmhouse and cut the engine. The vibrating stops and the cab stills. I really need to get this to the garage soon.

I grab my phone off the hands-free dock and double-check the address. This is it, Haven House, Willow Street. The customer; Miss Haven, requiring plastering and painting.

Miss, huh? Alone in this big house?

She better not have ten cats.

I'm allergic to cats.

( how sad to be allergic to cats! And don't judge someone for having ten cats that is #lifegoals)

Right, no problem.

I open my door and jump down from the cab, landing on the gravel in my work boots.

I slam the door shut, pocket my phone and walk up the wooden porch steps. I open the fly screen door and knock on the white door behind it. As I wait for the owner to answer, I shove my hands in my front pockets and admire the porch.

It's in good repair, which means they must treat the wood each year. There's a swing seat in the corner and I can just picture my sister taking a thousand snaps of it if she were here, calling it an 'insta moment'. She's obsessed with home decor content for her page.

The door opens and I spin around. I'm taken aback by the young woman who stands in the doorway. Barefaced with wet hair, she looks about twenty years old. She's wearing nothing but a cotton towel that is tucked under her armpits.

Her skin is almond brown, smooth all over and dotted with droplets of water. Her cheeks are flushed and her feet bare. Her breasts are round and outlined by the thin towel, which stops mid-thigh.

Her wet hair is almost black and is in almost matted, wavy strands, scraped back from her face.

Fuck.

Not who I was expecting.

Stop checking her out and say something, fucker.

"I'm Joss Walker, the handyman. I'm here to plaster some rooms."

She blinks for a few moments and then curses. It's strangely hot, hearing the cuss word come from her lips. They're rosy pink, full and kissable and she has the most arched cupid's bow.

Sexy fucking lips.

"Did we say eight? We did, didn't we? Fuck, I'm so sorry. I thought we said nine. Come on in."

She speaks hurriedly and holds the door open for me. Her voice is soft and sweet. It's oddly soothing. I make sure she hasn't got any rugs or carpets down and then step onto the hardwood floor in my dirty boots.

"I'm sorry that I got my timings mixed up. Give me five minutes and I'll get dressed."

She rushes up the stairs before I can reply to her. I only get a glimpse of tanned legs disappearing upstairs.

I run my hand down my face and try to get a grip on myself. Fucking hell, Joss, you're here to work, stop fantisising.

What the fuck would you be able to do to her anyway? Nothing because you're a fucked up failure.

I take the opportunity to look around the house. It's real nice. The foyer leads to an open-plan kitchen and dining room. On the other side of the hallway is the living room and what looks like a downstairs bathroom.

On a table in the hallway are a group of photo frames. One has an older couple in it, presumably her parents. The other has the three of them together, Miss Haven with her parents. She looks even younger in the photo, probably in her late teens. She's wearing a low-cut top that flaunts her luscious breasts.

Fuck.

Get a grip, Joss, you fucking pervert.

I force myself to look away and remain by the door. Miss Haven comes downstairs, now wearing a very short pair of track shorts, they look like booty shorts, and a tight vest that hugs her figure and shows off those fucking tits again.

She has braided her hair into two plaits and dried off. She looks fucking gorgeous as she smiles and holds out her hand to me.

"I'm sorry about that, I didn't even introduce myself! My name is Maya."

I awkwardly wipe my hand on my trousers before shaking her offered one. Her small, soft hand feels too delicate and clean in my callous, dirty one.

"Joss," I repeat my name.

Now that she has composed herself, Maya looks at me properly for the first time. Her green eyes travel all the way up from my boots, to my plaster-splattered trousers, to my snug t-shirt. Her gaze lingers a little too long on my muscles and ink.

She isn't trying to be rude or objectify me, her body is reacting the same way that I did to her. Sometimes, you can't help but look at something you find attractive. It's not you being lecherous or trying to make them uncomfortable, it's just human instinct to appreciate beauty.

She rubs her lips together and lets her eye trail higher up. I feel her gaze burn over my neck and up to my face. She takes in my stubble, square jaw, hard blue eyes and black hair, cropped short in a buzz cut with fade.

The attraction for me is obvious in the way her pupils dilate and her lips part ever so slightly.

You don't want me, princess. I promise you that.

"So, which rooms am I plastering?" I ask her, trying to draw her attention back to business.

It's no good for both of us is she starts fancying me. This is purely professional. I tell myself that again and again as I follow her up the stairs, trying not to admire the way her hips sway from side to side as she walks and trying to ignore her round ass in my face.

She leads me down a hallway to two open doors.

"It's these two rooms I'd like you to plaster, please," she says, gesturing at both spaces. "My parents recently moved out and into a static caravan by the coast. They've left me with the house and I'm hoping to redecorate. Add my own touch to it, you know?"

"Sure thing," I reply, keeping my eyes on the first room.

"After that, there's some tiling to be done in the spare bathroom and these rooms will need painting when the plaster is dry, but I'll help with that."

"Not a problem."

Please let this conversation be over so I can focus on my work and not your fucking gorgeous face.

"Great." She grins, making her even more beautiful. "Do you need any help carrying things up from your truck?"

I shake my head a little too quickly. "No, thanks. I got it."

"Okay. Well, I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Okay."

I watch her walk away, cursing myself when my eyes drop to her ass. I can't believe we're alone in this house for God knows how long.

Good thing you're too damaged to do anything about it, Walker.

I get my head screwed on properly and stop thinking about my client. First, I bring all my kit up from the truck. I lay down tarps on her floors to protect them from any spillages and my dirty boots.

I prep the walls for plastering and mix the plaster outside on her drive on another tarp. Once it's all good to go, I blast the radio in the empty room and begin plastering the walls.

I'm a few hours in when I hear someone calling me over the radio. I put down my kit and turn the volume down. Maya is stood in the doorway. Her hair has dried into corkscrew ringlets that reach her shoulders and fan out like an afro. She definitely has Black heritage. She's fucking stunning.

"I'm making lunch. Do you want anything?" She asks breezily.

I consider trying to eat around this hottie and immediately push the idea from my head.

"No, thanks. I've brought my own lunch."

"Okay, not to worry. Are you sure I can't get you a drink, though? Even a coke or glass of water?"

"Uh, a diet coke would be great, thanks," I respond awkwardly.

She smiles and goes to fetch it as I mentally curse myself. Could I be any more awkward? Why do I always have to be such an idiot around women? Fucking damaged goods.

Our fingers brush when she hands me the coke can and the strangest thing happens. There's a twitch of life in my cock from inside my boxers. I nearly drop the fucking can I'm so shocked by it.

"You alright?" Maya asks, clearly picking up on my discomfort.

"Uh, yeah. Static, I think," I lie quickly.

She scrunches up her nose in the most adorable way. "Ugh, I hate that. Anyway, I'll let you get back to work. Shout if you need anything."

I pick up my palette to start up again and pause when I can still feel eyes on me. I turn to my radio to raise the volume and peek at Maya out of my peripherals. She hasn't left the doorway and is still watching me.

Her cheeks turn pink and she scurries down the hallway, knowing that I've caught her checking me out. I'm not being cocky, but it's not hard to miss that she fancies me, or at least, is showing interest.

Too bad, princess, never going to happen. I couldn't fuck you even if wanted to and man, do I fucking want to.

I have barely been able to get hard for a woman in over a year, let alone stay hard enough long enough to fuck her.

Like I said, damaged.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆✥⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

What do we think of Joss's secret?

Really into writing this story already, I love a labourer 😍