Page 2 of Debt of My Soul

“Yeah. Trying to figure out what I need for a small project.” I offer a flat smile, secretly wishing this floor would open up and swallow me whole. His face lights up when I engage him, and my heart picks up its already fast pace.

“Small project?” The man crosses his arms, letting the bulk of his biceps rest on full display, and he casually leans against the plumbing shelf I’m sick of staring at.

“Well,” I say, standing. “More like a massive undertaking, and I have no idea what I’m doing.” I motion to the cart full of plumbing items.

“Do you want me to get someone to help you?”

“No!” I blurt out. “I mean … no, thank you. I’ll figure it out.”

He smirks at me but doesn’t say anything else as he strolls to my cart and lifts out the items my father told me to get. “Kitchen sink trouble?”

I pick at a loose thread on my holed pants. “Actually, yeah.”

He extends his hand to me. “I’m Adam.”

“Fleur,” I say as I meet his calloused hand and give it a slight squeeze.

His eyebrows rise. “Are you new in town, Fleur?” He grins with the question, but the smile is lost on someone like me. Moving here wasn’treallya choice. More like a necessity.

“For now.”

“Well,” Adam says, reaching into his back pocket, “I’m in the business of helping people with projects around their homes. I’d be more than happy to give you a hand.”

He passes me a business card. It names him the local handyman, with his number attached. Heat licks my cheeks, and I flick my eyes to his before staring back at the card again. I don’t have money to pay someone, especially since I haven’t started working at the bed-and-breakfast yet.

“Thank you. I-I unfortunately don’t have a ton of extra cash right now. I’m planning to do most of the renovations to the farmhouse myself.”

He blinks. “Farmhouse?”

Dang. Oversharing again, Fleur.

“Uh, yeah. It’s outside of town. Anyway, I appreciate your?—”

“You mean that old farmhouse right on Highway twelve? Across from the Mason Farm’s cornfields?” he asks, brows drawn together. His face is smooth, but the wrinkles from his confusion make him look older than he probably is. Maybe in his thirties?

I study his expression, my gaze drawn to his bare chest peeking out from behind the partially unbuttoned blue andgreen flannel, forming a tempting V shape. Despite myself, there’s a flicker of attraction.

I don’t know who the Masons are. Honestly, I wasn’t even aware someone owned the acres of field across from my new place. But I nod, acknowledging the place as mine, and move to pocket his card.

“Wow,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize anyone had bought that. I’ve always wished someone would restore the place. If I had the money, I’d definitely do it.” He moves across the aisle to pick a few items off the shelf.

I smile at his enthusiasm for my project—the excitement in his voice confirming my impulsive decision to purchase the property.

“I have big dreams.” I grin. “But the know-how is a bit lacking.”

He transfers the items he plucked from the shelf into my cart, rearranging a few pieces before taking others out and returning them.

He stands from his hunched position and brings a hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing it while his eyes rake over my attire.

I don’t look cute, and Adam has probably noticed. The ripped jeans I put on to work, coupled with the bulldog mascot shirt I stole from Chris before I ran, all look like they’ve been plucked from a trash bag. My hair is braided over my shoulder, with one of my dad’s pale-yellow bandanas folded up over my head. Although it basically blends into my blond hair, so much so that it isn’t even noticed.

“Listen, I’ve been wanting to see the inside of that place forever. How about I follow you back to your house and fix your sink in exchange for a tour?” His eyes sparkle with his request, and I can’t seem to look away.

I’m pretty sure there’s a horror movie in the making here. A random guy offers to come back to my house to fix my sinkfor free. I look down the empty aisle, then glance at my cart with almost all new items I don’t recognize. Desperation must make my judgment questionable because my heart pounds with anticipation. The idea he would work on my sink is … beyond helpful. I’ve been doing dishes with gallon water jugs, refilling them at the local grocery store every day since I’ve been here. For a week.

As quickly as the joyful prospect of a working kitchen sink enters my mind, so does the realization that I’m going to have to show this man my current living conditions.

When I bought the place, I knew I’d have to resort to living in construction. I cleaned out the master bedroom and the kitchen the best I could, intending to only utilize those two rooms. My first project to tackle is the guest bathroom. It’s a compact powder room with a toilet, a small vintage vanity, and a tiny shower. My plan is to get that renovated first so I have a facility to use while I upgrade the master bed and bath.

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