Irresistible Bachelors: Books 1-5 by Landish, Lauren (bts books to read TXT) 📕

well, I think it was popular during the disco era. “I said I wanted a night out, not a night being handheld!”

“Ivy Jo, I’m not your chaperone,” I protest, giving her just a little bit of sass. It keeps her on her toes. “I’m here to protect all the men from you. I know how you are, remember?”

“I remember. I remember your being almost as much fun as I was at your age,” she says. “Okay, I guess.”

I get her a drink, a watered down Rob Roy that she sips at, sighing happily. “Get yourself a drink, girl!”

“Sorry, can’t while on the clock,” I tell her, “but if you don’t mind, I’ll go for something virgin.”

“I’d like a virgin too, but at my age, I’ll take any damn thing I can get,” Ivy Jo cackles, and I have to snicker. I get myself a Moscow Mule mocktail and sit down next to her as the early clubgoers start to come in and the DJ starts spinning tunes. “So, talked with Mindy the other day. She said you’re going to work for Oliver?”

“Yep,” I agree, sipping my mule and wishing it had just a bit more ginger flavor. “Oli’s got a place for me. And I’m gonna earn it too. I plan on working my ass off.”

“No doubt,” Ivy Jo says. “Hey, what about that tall drink of sexy you were teasing all over the damn place when we all went out to Hawaii? What’s his name—Calvin?”

“Caleb!” I say with a laugh. Caleb Strong is many things, but I could never, ever imagine him being named Calvin. “What about him?”

“Doesn’t he work for Oliver too?” Ivy Jo says with a twinkle in her eye. “You two looked like you got along well.”

“We got along like cats and dogs, but we had fun. That’s about it though,” I reply, not admitting to her that yeah, I’ve sometimes thought about having a different kind of fun with Caleb. “He still kind of works for Oliver, but he started his own thing, Strong Services, although he’s mostly known as ‘Mr. Fix-It’ to his customers.”

“Handy, huh? I used to be a girl who was very much into handys,” Ivy Jo says, making me half choke on my drink. “You sure that drink is virgin?”

“I’m sure,” I say with a laugh. “But no, there’s nothing there. I haven’t seen him since the wedding, and we mostly just send each other inappropriate jokes and memes these days. We’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Ivy Jo says, unconvinced. “Honey, in all my years, I ain’t saying that men and women can’t be just friends. But I saw the sparks between you two, and two people who start off in the friend zone with those sparks either hate each other eventually or . . .”

“Or what?”

Ivy Jo finishes off her Rob Roy, grinning. “I won’t ruin it for you. Hell, maybe I’m wrong. Let’s go find me a man a third my age to shake my hips with. Left one’s brand new. Gotta get some use outta it before the rest of me breaks down!”Caleb

Sweat stings my eyes as I reach down into the hole, working by feel. I could have dug something wider. I know quite a few of the contractors around town who damn near rip up an entire back yard for a job like this, but that’s not me. I take a lot of pride in my work, and that includes creating as little collateral damage as I can.

“Come on, you stupid son of a—” I grunt, twisting the connector to the right. I’ve only got a tiny window, and I have to reset after just a moment, evaluating my progress as I do. Not bad. A few more and I’ll have it done.

I reach down again, but just as I do, my earbud works itself loose and I curse under my breath. Sitting up, I use the opportunity to wipe my forehead, but it’s just too hot. To hell with it. I take my other earbud out and pull my t-shirt off, whipping it around my head in a quick do-rag-like getup that looks stupid as hell, but at least it keeps my eyes clear. I readjust my earbuds and the thrilling, driving voice of Roxy Stone fills my ears. It’s not a CD yet—she’s still working on the final arrangements—but I’ve been able to listen to all of her covers as she works on them. Advantages of being a friend of the family, and her version of Hallelujah fucking rocks.

My adjustments complete, I reach down and twist the wrench again, then again. Grabbing my flashlight, I look the whole thing over, from the pipe tape I used on the threads right down the pipe itself. “That oughta hold you,” I mutter, getting to my knees. I go over to the side of the house, turning the water back on, and head back to the ditch, squatting down and staring intently at my repair. The pipe’s good, no leaks at all, and I quickly finish up, filling in the dirt and tamping it down before putting the turf back on top as best I can. Packing my bag, I look over the whole job, nodding in approval. “Nice,” I tell the afternoon cicadas as I take off my earbuds and put them in the pocket of my work jeans. “Mrs. Barnes is going to have no problems with water leaks or her petunias for the rest of the summer at least.”

I dust off my hands and pick up my tool bag before heading to the back door of the small but trim cottage house that I’ve been working outside of for the past four hours. Knocking on the frame next to the screen, I take a moment to admire the blue house with white trim, while at the same time noting that a lot of the trim on the north side of the house is looking sun-faded. It might need to be redone soon. “Mrs. Barnes? I just