“Do you work here alone?” she asks.
“No. My brother, Vandal, works here, too, but he’s also in a band, so sometimes he’s not able to come in for a while if he’s practicing or on tour. I may have to hire someone else to help keep up with all the appointments we have.”
“That’s great. So many small businesses are struggling right now. It’s a nice change to hear that someone is doing well.”
“So true. I feel kinda blessed and lucky.” I gently turn her to her side a little bit and bend her knee up so I can get a better angle, and the feeling of my arm leaning against her bare thigh sends a rush of heat to my cock. Fuck me. I never get turned on when I work on a female client. Ever. I shake my hair out of my eyes and peek up at her, but she seems lost in her own thoughts.
“Speaking of small business, I have to find someone to come and fix the roof on my shed. During the last snow storm, a big icicle pulled a few of the shingles right off,” she says, oblivious to my attraction to her. “Paul was still coming by to do little things like that, but I guess, obviously, he’s not going to keep doing stuff around the house now that he’s shacked up with someone else.”
“I take it Paul is your husband?”
“Yes. Now, he’s saying we may have to sell the house, too, because he moved into a new expensive condo with his girlfriend. It’s really stressing me out.”
“Shit,” I say, feeling the muscles in her leg tightening as she gets more upset. “That sucks.” Her husband sounds like a first-class asshole to me.
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry I’m venting to you. It’s just been one of those weeks, ya know? And I guess I’m just an idiot because I didn’t think this stuff would ever be happening to me.” Her voice cracks a little, and I stop working to look up at her. Her eyes are watery and her cheeks are flushed, the sight tugging at my heart.
“Ivy, you’re not an idiot.” I gently squeeze her leg, aching to comfort her but not knowing how without crossing a line. “I’m pretty sure, when people get married, they don’t expect that they’ll be shafted by that person years later, and have their entire fucking life uprooted.”
“No.” She sniffles. “I never even imagined it.”
I wheel my stool across my small work area, grab the box of tissues on my table, and hand them to her.
“You must think I’m a mess,” she says, taking a tissue and wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re not a mess.” Actually, I think she’s beautiful, and it’s way more than just her looks. I can tell this woman has a heart of gold, and it shines right out of her like a spotlight. “You can vent on me all ya want. I’ve been through a lot of crap myself, so I understand. Trust me. I’m a good listener.”
I pick my gun up and continue my design on her, trying to be as gentle with her as I can be. Knowing that I’m inflicting even the slightest amount of pain on her bothers me.
“Are you married?” she asks suddenly.
“Nope.”
“Well, you’re young. You have tons of time.”
I wipe her leg with a cloth. “True. I think I’m one of the few guys that actually wants to get married. I just can’t find the right girl.”
“That’s hard to believe. You seem like a really nice guy, and you’re very talented. I’m surprised women aren’t lining up for you.”