Page 49 of The Matchmaker
My sneakers sink into the soft earth as I round the back of the house, throwing open the gate to find him hunched over the hedge bordering our property.
“I’m going to need you to stop whatever she’s got you doing,” I call, once I’m in earshot. “Because we don’t have the money to—”
He whips around at the sound of my voice, and I come to a halt a few paces away, my attention zeroing in on the colorful tattoos wrapped around his left arm. Intricate Celtic knots start at his wrist, covering every inch of skin until they disappear into his T-shirt. It’s not like I’ve never seen a guy with tattoos before, but he was wearing a coat or sleeves the last few times we met and a hoodie in the house, so these are…
These are new.
“Pay me?”
“What?” I drag my attention away from the design and tug my cardigan tighter over my chest. “Yeah.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do,” I say, clearing my throat. “She does this. Granny. If she thinks she can get you to do something for her, she will. And she’ll say whatever she needs to get you to do it.”
“You mean it’s not her dying wish for someone to dig up her weeds?”
“I can’t pay you.”
“Then I’ll be sure to only do a half-assed job. I promise.”
“But—”
“I’m not going to fight with you on this.”
“We’re not having a fight.”
“Not yet.” He raises a brow. “But you’re looking for one, aren’t you?”
I open my mouth to retort before snapping it shut again. He’s right.
When I don’t reply, he turns back to the hedge, picking up a handful of fallen branches and tossing them into the wheelbarrow.
“I’m just assuming this dog is yours, by the way.”
“His name is Plankton.” And he doesn’t seem to even know I’m here, too enamored with the stranger to notice the person who feeds and shelters him standing two paces away. The little traitor.
“Plankton, huh?” Callum reaches forward to scratch the dog’s head. “I think he likes me.”
“Well, he also likes fox poop, so…” I trail off, watching as he tears a particularly stubborn root from the ground. His arm flexes as he does, and I let myself stare at it for a beat before flicking my gaze away. “Why are you even here?”
“We need to block off your road for a series of deliveries next Wednesday. Had to inform the residents.”
“Granny and I are the only residents on this road.”
“And you’ve been informed.”
“You couldn’t have just sent a letter?”
I catch the edge of his smirk before he ducks his head. “We’ve seen what happens to our letters,” he says, and I know he’s referring to Jack’s face all over the dartboards. “Anyway, I thought it was supposed to be a five-second job,” he adds. “I didn’t expect your grandmother to be so persuasive. She also had me put up some shelving over your boiler.”
“I was getting to that,” I mumble, a little bit of house embarrassment creeping in alongside the whole almost-naked embarrassment. What else did she point out to him? Did he see all the mold along the windowpanes? The peeling paint in the hallway that I still need to do something about? Isn’t it enough that the guy got a peek at the goods? Now he has to see how behind on everything I am?
“I don’t mind,” Callum continues, mistaking my sudden awkwardness. “I like renovating. I try to take on a house a year between site jobs. Buy it cheap, do it up. That kind of thing.”
“Sounds time-consuming.”
“I enjoy it.” He straightens, wiping his forearm across his brow and leaving a smidgen of dirt there in the process. “So, are you going to help me or are you just going to stand there?”
