fan in the living room while Birdie went up to investigate the AC problem.
A few minutes later, Birdie came back, shaking her head. “Something’s wrong with it all right—not that I didn’t believe you. I’ll have to call in an expert.”
Mia sipped her iced tea, finally starting to cool off a little, while Birdie called someone named Wyatt and explained the problem.
“Good news,” Birdie said when she got off the phone. “Wyatt’s coming right over.”
It didn’t surprise Mia that Birdie knew someone who did AC repairs and was willing to drop everything and come over straight away. Birdie seemed connected to nearly everyone in town through an elaborate barter economy. Much like her arrangement with her beekeeping neighbor, Arlo, there was a dairy farmer named Buzz who kept her in fresh cow’s milk, a woman named Jeanette who dropped off lemons and limes from her trees, and a guy named Dwight who’d come over last week to give Birdie’s Subaru a tune-up.
Wyatt the AC guy was as good as his word, because fifteen minutes later Birdie’s front doorbell rang. By then, Birdie was in the middle of making dinner, which she’d insisted on sharing with Mia. So it was Mia who went to answer the door.
She had carelessly assumed Wyatt would be middle-aged, pot-bellied, and balding. Possibly with BO and a case of plumber’s butt. It was an unfair stereotype, but one supported by most of her previous experiences with repairmen.
Wyatt was none of the above.
Au contraire. This AC repairman was, as the kids liked to say, a total snack.
He was not only young but fit enough to give any Hollywood star a run for his money and blessed with the sort of face that probably caused women to spontaneously ovulate when he walked into a room. Eyes as blue as a tropical ocean, cheekbones straight out of central casting, and a jaw fit for a comic-book superhero.
He reminded Mia of her friend Brooke’s model boyfriend, Dylan—except for the tattoos that covered most of Wyatt’s arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his T-shirt. Mia was too nervous to study them carefully, but she caught glimpses of twining flowers and birds and a skull amidst the colored patterns.
Wyatt was so good-looking, it was hard to believe he was a real repairman. He looked like a fake repairman you’d hire to strip at a bachelorette party. Or the kind of repairman who turned up in a pornographic movie to show off his hammer for the lady of the house.
He was the sort of repairman Mia had always assumed didn’t exist in real life. And yet, here he stood in front of her with a leather utility belt slung casually over one shoulder and a battered toolbox in his hand.
And here Mia was with visible boob sweat and her makeup half melted off.
Perfect.
Wyatt’s face split into a grin so resplendent it was like standing in a beam of actual sunlight. It made Mia’s pits break into a sweat all over again.
“You must be Birdie’s new renter,” he said.
“Mia,” she managed, her voice coming out a little froggy.
His eyes glinted as if he knew exactly what effect he had on women and enjoyed every bit of it. “I’m Wyatt, and I’m here to solve all your problems.” Every word was laden with innuendo as if he was intentionally leaning into the porn cliché.
“Birdie’s in the kitchen.” Mia turned on her heel, leaving the unnervingly gorgeous Wyatt to follow in her wake.
Birdie beamed when she caught sight of him. She wiped her hands on a towel and greeted him with a hug. “Thanks for getting here so fast.”
“Anything for you, Birdie. You know I’m always at your beck and call. You just say the word, anytime day or night, and I’ll come running with my heart on my sleeve.” Wyatt’s manner remained flirtatious with Birdie, but more playfully, as if it was grounded in genuine affection.
“Oh stop.” Birdie waved him off as if she’d heard it before. “I might be tempted if I hadn’t helped potty train you.”
He draped an arm around Birdie’s shoulders as he turned to address Mia. “Birdie was my preschool teacher. I’ve been in love with her since I was three.”
Mia hadn’t known Birdie used to be a teacher. As far as she’d been able to divine, Birdie’s only job was as a school crossing guard. Mia had driven past her a few times, holding her stop sign and shepherding elementary school children across the street.
Birdie chuckled. “Yes, you were quite