for bed in the pink-tiled bathroom. It was only nine thirty, but she was strangely exhausted.
Back in Birdie’s old bedroom, she turned down the quilt and lay on the bed, letting the ceiling fan cool her off from head to toe. Like the rest of the room, the mattress seemed to date from the eighties. It was rock-hard with a body-shaped divot in the middle. Mia wondered how long it had been since anyone had slept on it.
Nevertheless, she was grateful to be there, lying in an air-conditioned room under a ceiling fan rather than fending for herself in a ninety-degree apartment. Which was exactly what all her previous landlords would have left her to do.
She was lucky to have Birdie.
She could deal with an uncomfortable bed for one night. It wasn’t that bad.
In the morning, when Mia woke with a ferocious crick in her neck, she reconsidered her opinion of the bed.
It was that bad.
She could barely move her head at all. A hot shower loosened it up some, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.
Birdie had left her a half-full pot of coffee in the kitchen and a note saying she’d gone to do her crossing guard shift. Since Mia’s first class didn’t start for an hour, she headed up to her apartment in search of some Advil.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she was startled to find the door open and Wyatt in her kitchen. “What are you doing?” she asked, pausing in the doorway.
He didn’t look up from the caulk gun he was using to draw a perfect bead around the edge of the kitchen sink. “Recaulking your sink. I noticed some of the old caulk was wearing away.”
“You’re a real jack of all trades, aren’t you?” It wasn’t wrong to admire his butt as he bent over her counter, was it? She thought not, since Wyatt so clearly enjoyed being looked at. Hopefully not, because that was exactly what she was doing.
He finished his task and set the caulk gun down with a grin that said he knew she’d been staring at his ass. “That’s me, the helpful handyman.” He gestured around the small apartment proudly. “I did most of the work on this place for Birdie when she decided to start renting it out.” As he said it, he dug his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed Mia a business card.
Wyatt King, The Helpful Handyman it read, along with a phone number.
“That’s my cell number,” Wyatt said, leaning in close to tap the card in her hand. “Feel free to call me anytime you have a need.”
Even Mia couldn’t miss the implicit suggestion in his words. But she chose to believe the sweat she was breaking into was due to the temperature in the un-air-conditioned apartment and not because of Wyatt. “I’ve got a Cody King in my calculus class. Is he related to you?”
Wyatt grabbed his caulk gun off the counter and carried it over to his toolbox. “That’d be my youngest brother.”
“Any connection to the ice cream company?” She’d been wondering about Cody since she first saw his name on her class roll, but she hadn’t found an opportunity to ask him about it.
“You could say that.” Wyatt’s mouth took on a wry twist. “Our dad’s the president and CEO.”
Mia’s eyebrows lifted. “And you work as a handyman?”
“I never cared much for ice cream,” Wyatt said with a shrug. “Or being under my old man’s thumb.”
Given what Birdie had said about Wyatt’s childhood, Mia could understand why he might not want to join the family business. Still, working as a handyman seemed an unusual career choice for someone who must have grown up with money.
“How did you learn how to do all this stuff?” she asked as she got a bottle of Advil out of the cabinet by the sink.
“My uncle, mostly. He takes a lot of pride in doing things for himself.” Wyatt’s eyes narrowed as he watched her dry-swallow two pills. “What’s wrong with your neck?”
“The mattress in Birdie’s spare room didn’t agree with it.” Mia reached up to massage the sore muscles. “It’s fine though.”
“I can fix it for you,” Wyatt said casually. “If you want.”
She threw him a look conveying her skepticism. “You fix sore muscles in addition to houses?”
Smirking lewdly, he held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “I have magic fingers.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Sure you do.”
“Seriously, I can probably help.” The smirk faded to