Page 8

CHAPTER 7

I f she didn’t know better—if it weren’t physically impossible—Star would’ve sworn she floated up the stairs after Ethan left.

He wanted to date her. Ethan Wolf wanted to date her.

A giddy smile spread across her face as she twirled in the hallway like a kid on Christmas morning. She spun past the gaping holes in the drywall without glancing at them. The uneven baseboards and patchy flooring didn't register either. Not today. Not when the impossible had just become her reality.

Still grinning, she practically ripped off her clothes and hopped into the shower. Warm water cascaded over her skin as she grabbed a nail brush and attacked the color clinging to her fingers. It took nearly twenty minutes to scrub away the stubborn remnants of her morning mishap, but she didn’t care. The day had transformed from disaster to dream come true in record time.

Ethan Wolf. The man she’d fantasized about for months—the one who haunted her late-night dreams and starred in more than a few X-rated mental scenes—wanted to date her.

She ducked her head under the stream of water and frowned. “ Why does he want to date me?” she whispered.

The poor man had been the direct victim of her never-ending mishaps. She could list the top five from memory:

The time she’d gotten her scarf caught in her car door, and Ethan had to free her because she’d dropped her keys and was choking herself trying to reach them.

The incident when she tripped over her own feet and knocked him—coffee and all—into a planter on the sidewalk.

The great squirrel debacle when a terrified rodent she’d chased through the house and finally locked in her kitchen had launched itself at Ethan’s face when he came to help.

The infamous “pipe explosion” that had left Ethan covered in rusty water when he’d scared her when she was changing out water heaters.

And today’s grand finale: Enthusiastically blotting his coffee-soaked crotch while kneeling on her kitchen floor.

Yet … he still wanted to date her.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind: “When the right man comes along, sweetheart, the curse won’t matter.”

“Maybe Ethan is the right man,” she murmured, running conditioner through her hair. Lord knew that kiss still tingled on her lips.

To say the man turned her on was an understatement. He was everything every romance novel promised and everything her parents had told her to look for in a man.

She rinsed her hair and tilted her head back, closing her eyes as she remembered their advice. It hadn’t made sense as a teenager, but it resonated now.

Her parents had set the bar high—especially when it came to relationships. They’d taught her that love wasn’t all fireworks and passion. It was built on respect, trust, and shared values.

Her mom had once said: “Relationships aren’t always fifty-fifty, honey. Some days, your dad has nothing left to give, so I give a hundred percent. And some days, I’m running on empty, and he carries the weight. That’s what real love is—balance, not perfect math.”

She reached for the loofah and scrubbed absently as more memories surfaced.

Her mom also taught her the most important lesson: “Resentment grows in dark places. If you’re upset or hurt, bring it into the light. Talk about it. Listen—really listen—to the other person. Resentment is the cancer of relationships, Star. Never let it grow. And never expect someone else to change who they are to make you happy.”

Star finished rinsing, turned off the water, and stepped onto the bathmat. She swiped a towel over the fogged mirror and caught her reflection. Her damp, sandy-brown hair clung to her shoulders, and the hot water flushed her cheeks.

She smiled softly. “ You’d like him, Mama. ”

The ache of missing her parents hit like a punch to the chest. As an only child, their loss had shattered her world. It had taken years of grief, stubborn resilience, and more than a few disasters to rebuild her life after their deaths.

The silence of the house no longer suffocated her. In fact, she’d learned to cherish it. Solitude helped her focus—especially on her work.

Wrapping the towel around herself, she padded into the bedroom. ADHD had made her childhood a whirlwind of unfinished projects and forgotten homework assignments. She hadn’t been diagnosed until college, but once she’d received it, things had started making sense.

Her hyperfocus on work? Her compulsive need for lists and color-coded spreadsheets? The endless documentation of every home improvement project? All perfectly explainable now.

Her mom had helped her find ways to manage her workload, turning overwhelming tasks into manageable goals. While she might trip over her own feet and wreak havoc on innocent hardware stores, she excelled at her transcription work.

She combed out her hair, secured it in a loose braid, and stood in front of her desk.

The small workspace was simple: a well-worn chair, a reliable computer, and noise-canceling headphones. She glanced at the clock: Nine a.m., right on schedule.

With a quick stretch, she powered up her transcription software and hit play.

Soft classical music filtered through the speakers as she opened the first medical dictation file.

Time to focus.

Some time later, Star paused mid-sentence, her fingers hovering above the keyboard as a faint, rhythmic thunk echoed through the house.

There it was again. A hammer?

She pulled off her headphones and glanced at the clock. “ Dang, ” she muttered. It was nearly four o’clock. She’d tunneled so deeply into her work that she’d gone past her usual hours without realizing it.

With a sigh, she hit save , double-checked that the files had been uploaded to the shared drive, and then backed everything up to her external drive. She was meticulous in her transcription work.

Stretching, she rolled her stiff shoulders, then headed downstairs. As she passed through the kitchen and opened the back door, sunlight streamed across the porch steps—and the scene before her made her stop short.

The old, crumbling wooden stairs were gone. In their place, a brand-new set of risers had been installed and bolted into the concrete foundation. The skeletal frame of new steps stretched out like an incomplete puzzle.

How in the world did I miss that much noise?

She looked to the right, then the left, scanning the yard.

“Hello?” she called.

Ethan rounded the corner of the house, carrying a wide, thick board across his shoulders. He wore a leather work belt slung low on his hips, his jeans dusty and clinging to his thighs. His chest was bare, glistening with sweat in the late afternoon sun.

Star’s mouth went dry.

“Hey,” Ethan said, lowering the board into place. “You must’ve been concentrating hard. I was worried I might’ve disturbed you.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but her gaze got stuck on the flex of his biceps as he pulled a hammer from his belt. He set a nail against the board and drove it into place with three solid strikes.

Star’s jaw dropped.

He glanced up. Their eyes met. Star snapped her mouth shut so fast her teeth clicked.

“No, I’m done,” she blurted. “Work, I mean. I’m done with work. Not done in general. I just finished for the day. Yeah. That.”

Ethan’s lips quirked into a knowing grin.

“What are you doing?” she asked, forcing herself to focus. “I thought you said just a couple of boards needed replacing.”

He reached into his tool belt for another nail. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But when I removed the boards, I found the structure underneath was riddled with dry rot. It’s safer to replace it all and do it right. Don’t want to break a leg coming over to visit you.”

He pointed the hammer at her, his smile turning into a full-blown, shameless flirt, and her face ignited. She could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks.

Oh my God, he’s flirting with me.

Star slid down the door frame until she sat cross-legged on the kitchen threshold. She folded her arms on her knees and watched Ethan position another board and drive the nails home with effortless precision.

“Did you find out anything about the conversation?” she asked, trying to focus on why he’d been working on her steps in the first place—and not on his ridiculously broad shoulders.

“I did,” Ethan said, driving another nail with two sharp strikes. “I’ll fill you in when I finish up here.”

“Where did you get the lumber?”

“Hardware store.” He reached for another board. “Ran into Kyle while I was there.”

Her stomach dropped. “Oh?”

Ethan leveled the board, then nailed it into place with mechanical efficiency. “Yeah.” He gave her a lazy smile. “I believe Kyle now understands you don't want to go out with him. I don't think he'll be bothering you again.”

Star's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “ What did you do?”

Ethan didn’t look up. “I just explained that I didn’t appreciate him hitting on my woman.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Am I ? ” she asked softly. “Am I your woman? When did we decide that? ”

Ethan finally lifted his gaze but didn’t say anything as he grabbed the next board. Only when he was kneeling to secure it did he answer, his voice casual but firm. “This morning, when I told you I wanted to date you.” He lined up the board and drove the nail in with three measured strikes. “I'm assuming that when you date me, you won’t be dating anyone else at the same time. But if I’m wrong, you should probably let me know.”

“Oh no! No, that’s not wrong!” Star sat up straighter. “I don’t date multiple people. Heck, I don’t really date at all. Or ever, really. I mean, I have dated—like in college. But that was before, you know, my parents died. And after that, I’ve just been … well, working mostly.” She winced. “But I have gone out with people. Like, to dinner and stuff. I just haven’t … dated-dated.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “ God , I’m blowing this, aren’t I?”

Ethan laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made her peek through her lashes.

“Dated-dated?” he repeated, his grin widening. “Let me guess—that means you haven’t been serious with anyone since college?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes! Exactly! What you said!”

Ethan’s laughter rolled through the backyard as he placed the last board and secured it with his usual efficiency. Star exhaled and ran a hand over her flushed face. Smooth, Star. Very smooth.

She watched him work, marveling at how easily he handled the task. Each movement was purposeful and confident. There was something undeniably sexy about a man who knew how to build something with his hands. A few minutes later, Ethan stepped back, hands on his hips, and surveyed the completed steps.

“Okay,” he said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’ll replace the handrails tomorrow. I need to grab a couple of four-by-four posts from the hardware store.”

“Be careful,” Star said with a laugh. “Kyle might ask you out next.”

Ethan chuckled as he headed toward his toolbox. “If he does, I’ll let him down gently.”

Star smiled and pushed herself to her feet. She started toward the steps, then hesitated. “Wait … you said handrails tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

Her gaze dropped to the open sides of the new steps. “So, no handrails today?”

Ethan turned around and arched a brow. “You didn’t notice until now?”

“I was distracted by the, um, craftsmanship,” she mumbled, gesturing vaguely at the steps. “ You are the craftsmanship.”

Ethan's eyes crinkled at the corners. “ I'm the craftsmanship?”

“Yep.” Star backed toward the door. “So, I’m just gonna go inside now. You know. For safety reasons.”

Ethan shook his head with a laugh as she took a step into the kitchen, muttering about gravity, physics, and how the Star Curse had better not strike today.

Ethan gestured toward the new staircase. The steps were solid, secure, and built to last. “I know you want to keep the Victorian feel,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Once I get the railing up, I can check with some suppliers to find a design that matches the front porch railing. I'm no woodworker, so I won't try to replicate it myself. Safety over aesthetics.”

Star smiled, crossed her arms, and leaned against the door frame. “I have a source for the rails. If you give me the measurements, I can order them tonight.”

“Easy enough.”

She chewed her lip and added, “I was also thinking about replacing the front railing. The steps out there are a little weak.”

Ethan straightened, concern flashing across his face. “Weak? I didn’t notice any issues when I came up them this morning.”

“They’re nothing like the back steps were,” she said quickly, holding up her hands as if to physically stop his next offer. “Seriously, Ethan. I don’t need you to rebuild those. I’ve been avoiding the soft spots just fine.”

He gave her an amused look, lips quirking at the corners. “ Avoiding soft spots? That sounds like famous last words.”

She laughed softly. “ Probably. ”

His expression shifted. “Speaking of this morning—did you lock your doors after I left?”

Her smile vanished.

Shit.

The morning had been a whirlwind of emotions, and after Ethan had left, she’d floated up the stairs on a cloud of giddy bliss. Locking the doors? Yeah, that hadn’t even crossed her mind.

She grimaced and rubbed her fingers over her lips—the spot where Ethan had kissed her still tingled. “ No. ” Her shoulders sagged. “I … got distracted.”

Ethan’s eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. “Gotta get better about that, Star.”

“I know. I know.” She shifted uncomfortably. “ You let someone kiss you like that and see if you remember mundane safety protocols.”

His slow, knowing smile made her stomach dip.

Ethan sat down on the steps and stretched his long legs out in front of him before patting the spot beside him. Star walked down the new steps and plopped next to him.

“So,” she said, leaning her elbows on her knees. “Tell me what you found out.”

Ethan shifted, resting back on his arms. The move stretched the muscles across his chest and shoulders, and Star barely managed to keep her jaw from unhinging.

“Well,” he said, “you were right about one thing.”

Her head snapped toward him. “ Which thing?”

“The men you overheard in the hardware store are connected to the Mafia.”

Her stomach lurched, and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth, biting down. “ That's not good,” she whispered. “That’s really not good, is it?”

Ethan leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he stared across the yard. “I’m not going to lie. These guys are bad news. They’ve got connections to some pretty unsavory people.” He shifted his gaze toward her. “I don’t think they realized you recorded their conversation.”

Star shook her head, still trying to wrap her mind around the revelation. “How did you even figure out who they were?”

He chuckled softly. “Star, this is what I do.”

“Yeah, but … still. That was fast . Should I be paying you for this? I mean, I’m taking time away from your job.”

He shook his head. “This took maybe ten minutes. Tops. It’s fine.”

“So, what should we do?”

Ethan rubbed his palms together. “Common sense says we should drop the whole thing. If we don’t act suspicious, they’ll have no reason to think they were overheard.”

Star dropped her head into her hands, fingers raking through her scalp. “But I can’t do that, ” she mumbled.

Ethan sat up straighter. “I can’t either,” he admitted.

She lifted her head. Their eyes met. “ S o, what are we gonna do?”

Pointing back and forth between them, he said, “ We aren’t going to do anything. I'm going to use my contacts and resources to figure out what these guys are planning, then foil those plans.”

Star frowned and narrowed her eyes. “ Who says that?”

Ethan blinked. “Who says what?”

“'Foil their plans.’” She snorted. “Who says that ? What are you, some mid-century villain hunter? ‘Ah-ha! On guard, ye swashbuckling cad! ’”

She extended an imaginary rapier and flicked her wrist in a mock duel.

Ethan's laughter filled the backyard as he slung an arm around her shoulders. She instinctively leaned into him. His skin was warm, smelling of sawdust, sunshine, and something that was just … Ethan .

“Well , ” he said, matching her sword-flick with his free arm, “this ‘swashbuckling cad’ says it. So, there.”

She laughed and nudged him with her shoulder. “So, what happens next?”

“I’ll keep digging into the situation. I’d like you to stick close to home for a few days while I figure out exactly what’s happening.”

Star winced. “I have to go into Manhattan tomorrow. Semi-annual meeting with the private practice I transcribe for. I’m taking the Q train.”

He frowned. “It can’t be rescheduled?”

“It’s only twice a year, Ethan.” She shrugged. “Besides, I like the subway. The chaos. The people-watching. Well, except for that one time when a guy’s body odor was so bad I started crying involuntarily. But usually, it’s fun.”

“No displays to knock over? ” He smirked.

Her jaw dropped. “ I didn’t actually knock over that display. It was more of an assist.”

Ethan turned his head slowly and arched a brow. “Star … I had access to the hardware store’s security cameras.”

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I’m not going to ask if that’s legal. ”

“Smart.” He laughed. “You're lucky you didn’t end up in the hospital. Those cans were heavy. It’s honestly bizarre that not one hit you.”

She shrugged. “Things break around me. Always have. But I’m usually fine. I go months without an incident sometimes. But when it does happen? Boom. Total mayhem.”

Ethan tilted his head. “What’s the longest you’ve gone without an incident?”

She didn’t even have to think about it. “Four years. Right after my parents died. I was so depressed I barely left the house. Worked with a therapist. Sold the family home. I didn’t go out or socialize. No people meant no disasters.” Her laugh was hollow. “Maybe I should just lock myself away for everyone’s safety . ”

Pulling her closer, Ethan rested his chin atop her head and squeezed gently. “No need to lock you away. Maybe some bubble wrap. And a designated clear zone.”

Star giggled. “Thanks . ”

“Hey,” he said softly. “My life wouldn’t be half as interesting if you hadn’t moved in next door. Just … be careful tomorrow.”

“Believe it or not, I try to be careful.”

“I believe you.”

She tilted her face toward him. He lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss. It wasn’t soft or tentative like the morning’s kiss—it was deeper, slower, more deliberate. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened for him with a low sigh.

She wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but she ended up straddling his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, completely lost in the moment.

When Ethan broke the kiss, his eyes were dark with heat. “You,” he whispered, “are going to be trouble.”

Star met his gaze and slowly nodded. “I’m gonna be all the trouble you can handle.”

His brows lifted. “Sounds like a challenge.”

She shook her head. “Not a challenge. Just a fact. I'm a living, breathing, hot-blooded American woman.”

He grinned and lowered his head to kiss her again. Just before his lips met hers, he murmured, “Thank God for that . ”

Yep. Star’s brain melted.

She was officially living the dream.