She led him to the back of the house and showed him the work she’d already done. “I replaced these,” she said, showing him the fresh lumber. Then she pointed higher, at the parts just out of reach. “I’m having more trouble with those.”
He ran a hand along the boards. “Your husband did a good job. Nice and even. Hardly any space in between the boards.”
“I don’t have a husband,” she said bluntly. “Like I said, I did those boards.”
He continued staring at the boards for a moment. Then, he said slowly, “Sorry ‘bout that.”
God, she felt so awkward. Everything was so damn awkward. “I should apologize to you. Maybe we should start over.” She shoved her hand out in his direction. “Hi, I’m Emily Allard-Smith. I called for a handyman.”
He looked over at her with a wicked grin that seemed to curve only one half of his mouth (oh heavens) and put his hand in hers. “Name’s Jericho, but you can call me J if you like. And I just so happen to be a handyman and plumber.”
She found herself warming to that smile. He was pretty, with gorgeous eyes and a killer smile. Why did he ruin his appearance with tattoos and that awful hairdo? “It’s nice to meet you. Let me show you my eaves.”
“Please do. I love a nice set of eaves.” He gave her hand a squeeze before pulling his away.
Emily couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Why does that sound so incredibly dirty?”
He mock clutched his chest and feigned putting a hand to his forehead. “Heavens to Betsy. Whatever do you mean?”
She just rolled her eyes, amused. She liked this man’s sense of humor. “I showed you my eaves. Now show me what you can do with them.”
“I love a challenge,” he said with a wag of his dark brows. “Let me take a look and I’ll write up an estimate for you.”
Jericho kept her laughing with his silly quips while he inspected the work and pried up one of the old boards, examining the rot. When he was finished assessing, he headed back to his motorcycle and returned with a clipboard and pen, and wrote out an estimate for the work.
It was cheaper than she’d expected. “Are you trying to give me a discount?”
“Because you’re cute and single? No ma’am. Though you are both.” He gave her another wicked grin. “I’m just happy for the work, and I figure if you’re a satisfied customer, I can get more work and hopefully some word of mouth.”
His comment about her being cute and single left her a little flustered. It wasn’t something she got called often. Because she owned the Peppermint House, she seemed to fall into that ‘matron’ or ‘mom’ category despite not being a mom. And she rarely ever got hit on, especially not by guys in mohawks. She didn’t know what to think of that. So she steered things toward a safe topic: lunch. “If you can do all this work for that price, I’ll even make you lunch.”
“Now you’re talking,” he said. “Got a ladder?”
They were both quiet as she led him to the back shed where she kept her tools. He plucked the ladder from the wall with effortless grace and carried it back to the porch, where her rotten eave was. Emily watched, trailing behind him awkwardly. Should she leave him to his work? Or talk to him some more? What was the polite thing to do?
In the end, he solved the problem for her. As Jericho climbed the ladder, he called down, “So what’s on the menu?”
“For lunch? I was thinking homemade chicken and dumplings?”
“Never had it,” he admitted. “Any good?”
“You’ve never had chicken and dumplings?” She stepped to the side as he pried one of the old boards off and a shower of sawdust rained down.
“I have not. Unless you can microwave it, I probably haven’t tried it. My family wasn’t much in the way of cooking, unless it was meth.”
She blinked.
He looked down at her and grinned. “That was a joke, by the way.”
Emily laughed nervously. “Very funny.”
“Yeah, it never ceases to get a reaction,” he said with a chuckle. “Seriously, though, whatever you cook is great. Not a lot of fast food around here so I mostly do a peanut-butter jelly thing.” He patted the side of his jacket.
“That sounds awful.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Feeds me. Can’t complain.”
If there was one thing Emily was proud of, it was her skill in the kitchen. And for some reason, she wanted to impress this man. If she didn’t cook up a good batch of chicken and dumplings, he’d be turned off of the dish for the rest of his life. And wouldn’t that be a shame?