Page 10 of Summer Heat
I had a reputation, and women like her didn't go for guys like me. I picked up women at bars who thought construction workers were hot.
Lately, I preferred a quieter life, hanging around my grandmother's home that reminded me of her. "My grandmother would have wanted you to stay here."
A smile spread over her face.
I wasn't sure why I admitted that out loud. But Grams was the one who believed in me. She called me a sweet boy and defended me in front of my brothers and dad. It was why we had such a close relationship.
She didn't criticize me or say I was different. She just accepted me for who I was and seemed to see things that no one else could. She said I had a huge heart, and maybe that was on display now.
I wondered if Kinsley could see something inside me too. Or if she was like everyone else, assuming I couldn't do things because my brain was so scattered.
"You must have been close with your grandmother."
My chest tightened. "She was the best."
"You like living here with her things?"
"I want to continue her legacy. I want to bring this place back to life while modernizing it at the same time."
"You can do both. Maintain your family history while renovating the space."
"I think so too. And now that you're living here, you can help me."
Kinsley shook her head, laughing. "I can do that."
I raised a brow. "You're really going to help me?"
"It's about time I followed through on my end of the deal."
I let out a breath. "I'd appreciate anything you could do."
"Should we record our discussions and your progress? I can edit the videos and put them on social media." At my sharp look, she shrugged. "It's my job, after all."
I was against the idea of videotaping myself. If people had criticized me my entire life, why would showcasing my faults on TV be a good idea? "I'll have to think about it. I'm going to get ready to go and check on the munchkin."
I headed upstairs, and down the hallway.
Maya's door opened, and she ran out of the room at full speed into me.
"Whoa," I said as I attempted to catch her.
"Are we leaving yet?"
I placed my hands on my hips. "That depends. Did you brush your teeth?"
She blew out a breath. "No."
"Let's get some toothpaste on your brush. Then we'll talk." She'd borrowed one of my spare brushes last night.
I squeezed the paste on the brush and held it out to her.
"I can do it."
"You can do it next time."
She lifted her brush to her teeth, then dropped it. "Why do I have to brush my teeth?"
Here was my first test. "So your teeth won't rot and fall out."
