As Alonso investigated the case, they became friends, and he started helping her get over her fears and to physically as well as mentally train her. He was a wonderful man and a great person. She smiled just thinking about him and then laughed. They had thought about dating, but it didn’t work out. They realized after one kiss that they were better off as friends.
Her first weekend working at The Station had been a lot of fun. Surrounded by first responders, mostly firefighters and EMS workers, she laughed a lot and found their professions admirable. So many men had also never hit on her in one night. She was a bit surprised to find out that the sheriff’s father owned the place along with his longtime partner, Jerome.
Burt McCurran found out about the incident at the sheriff’s department and had a chuckle over what she had done. She, however, was hoping to avoid being noticed, and her plan to stay under the radar blew up in her face. Now here she was trying to make the small, near-condemnable house into a home. But she was good at handiwork like this. She had learned a lot from her father years ago and his construction business, long before his alcoholism and disability took his life.
Sighing, she pulled back the last layer of crappy Sheetrock and stared around at the mess. She wished that damn Dumpster was closer to the house, but since the abandoned car still remained in the driveway and she hadn’t heard from the sheriff with a resolution, she had to haul all the scrap to the road. Just her luck.
At this rate she wouldn’t need to find a gym to join.
Michaela pulled the wiring from between the beams and gathered it along the way to the outlet. The wires were crap, the outlet needed to be replaced, and electrical work was not something to take lightly. She knew basics, but as she pulled the wires from the connection, knowing she had shut off the power box downstairs that supplied power to this area, she was shocked when it sparked.
It sounded like little firecrackers going off, and soon the damn thing was on fire, spreading a thin line up the wall the rest of the length of the wire she just pulled.
“Fuck!” she yelled out as she slammed the hammer against the wire, trying to stop it from igniting. That wouldn’t work, so she reached back and pulled the small fire extinguisher from the bag of supplies she’d just bought at the local Home Depot. She peeled off the plastic covering, cursing a mile a minute as it wouldn’t budge so she bit into the plastic, spit out pieces, and bit into it again as the flames increased.
“I don’t need this shit.” She just got the plastic off and aimed the fire extinguisher at the small fire when she heard the voice.
“Oh shit.”
She had been spraying the flames, putting them out, but as she heard the voice, she turned, her hand still squeezing the device and shot the sheriff with the chemical.
“What the hell!” he yelled out, covering his head and ducking around the corner.
She had stopped pretty quickly but not quickly enough to avoid getting the stuff on his shirt and his pants.
“I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, half looking over her shoulder, making sure the fire was extinguished and half cringing from shooting the sheriff with the stuff.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, walking closer to her. She was still holding the fire extinguisher, and the sheriff was wearing regular clothing, not his uniform. He looked incredible. She pressed her hand down her dusty shorts, self-conscious about her outfit. Standing up, she realized how much taller the man was in comparison to her.
His arm muscles were huge, his chest wide and intimidating, and his hands extra large as they slowly took the canister from her hands.
“I’ll take that. What the heck happened?” he asked, looking at the damage as he set the extinguisher down near the doorway and brushed off his black camo pants. Her eyes had a mind of their own as they trailed over his ass, snug and sexy in the military pants. Was he in the military at some point? Or was he a wannabe? She wondered.
“The freaking place is wired all shitty. I disconnected the power from the circuit box downstairs, but I guess it is labeled wrong or just all messed up.”
“You need some help figuring that out?”
She stared at him with her hands on her hips as he looked her over. She was glad that the tank top covered her scar along her chest. She didn’t want to get asked all the questions, and she wasn’t going to tell anyone what had happened.
“What are you doing here?” she asked with a bit more attitude than she intended.
“I came by to let you know that I took care of the car situation. Got the title right here, and you can get it towed out first thing Monday morning. I wrote down a name of a friend of mine in town who has a tow truck service.” He handed her the paper. When she took it from his hand, he held hers firmly a second longer.
He glanced around the place as she looked over the letter.
“This is great. I wish it came earlier though. I had to have the Dumpster parked in the road.”
“No one complained, did they?” he asked.
“The neighbors? No way, they seem thrilled that I’m going to clean up the place. It is an eyesore with no curb appeal.”
“Why did you buy this place?” he asked, looking around the room. He trailed his hand along the wood railing that separated the entryway from the living room.
“I think it has charm, or at least will have it when I’m finished.”
“I thought you said you hired someone to do the renovations.”
“I said the person was local. It’s me.” She took the letter and placed it in a drawer by a desk that was neatly set up by the front hallway. She had done that area first, wanted to do the living room and then the kitchen. Hopefully the bedrooms after that.
“You’re doing the construction yourself?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, not even realizing she made her boobs stand out more until the sheriff’s eyes grazed her cleavage and then looked up toward her face.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Didn’t seem that way when I got here,” he teased and winked.
She shook her head. “Totally not my fault, but it’s to be expected in a dump this old.”
“How about the circuit box? You need help labeling it so something like this doesn’t happen again?”
“I can handle it. Thanks.”
“How can you check and label if the circuit breaker box is in the basement and all the rooms and lights are upstairs?”
Duh, he was right. She couldn’t. “You don’t need to be anywhere else right now?”
“Nope. I’m off today, but I know how desperate you were to get rid of the car.”
“I appreciate that. Let me just grab something to label the switches with. You can turn the stuff on and yell down to me.”
“I think I’ll bring along this fire extinguisher,” he said and winked.
* * * *
It had taken them a good thirty minutes to label all the circuits and secure them. It had given Jake an opportunity to try and see who Michaela was. She didn’t have a lot of belongings, but she did have books out on renovating old homes and other things like that, and her bedroom was meticulous. He could smell the fresh paint on the walls, and what looked like a work in progress of a mosaic on one wall of the room. Whatever it was going to be, it was already impressive.
“Hey, who did this painting?” he called down to her again, as she said they had gotten the last switch identified.
He heard her footsteps as she climbed the old staircase. He noticed she had a book on restoring that as well.
“What did you ask?” She stood in the doorway but didn’t enter. He motioned with his hand.
“This, whose painting is this?” he asked.
She walked in, but she appeared guarded, as she uncrossed her arms.
“Oh, it’s nothing, just something I’ve been working on.”
“You painted this?” he asked and then squatted down to view the bottom half of the scene. “It looks like something from Italy.”
He glanced up at her and she squinted her eyes and looked unimpressed. She obviously was a hard critic of her own work. Her talent, and also her ability to take on the house in its condition, impressed him.
“What, you don’t think so?” he asked, standing back up.
“It’s nowhere near completion. It was just an idea I had in my head. I might paint over it anyway.” She headed out of the room.
“Don’t even think of doing that. It’s really good, Michaela. How long have you been painting for?”
She rubbed her left arm, something she seemed to do whenever he asked her something personal. It seemed to be a nervous twitch. But what would a young, beautiful woman like Michaela need to be worried about?
“It doesn’t matter. I have so much to do with this house. And now it seems like I might need an electrician.” He followed her out of the bedroom and down the narrow hallway. Up here, she looked really petite in comparison to him. And young. Too damn young if he could resist her beauty and interest.
Her long brown hair was pulled into two braided pigtails, making her seem even more youthful, but a gaze over her round, full ass, slender hips, and of course her large breasts, and he knew damn well she wasn’t too young. Her personality, physical appearance, and more natural beauty, were the complete opposite of Lisa.
He felt only a slight tinge of guilt and sadness thinking of her at the moment and comparing her to Michaela. They were so different and he couldn’t think of one thing so far that the two women had in common.