Hooking a Handyman Read online

  “And what time do you leave in the morning?” Zoey asked.

  “Anytime between eight and nine, usually. I like to have breakfast with the kids before I go, so I try to keep my mornings flexible.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing. It’s nice that you have so much control over your schedule. I didn’t know Hollywood was so forgiving.”

  Harry wrinkled his brows. “I don’t know that I’d call it Hollywood. And it hasn’t always been this good. The first few seasons, I filmed on the network’s terms and it was brutal. We filmed all over the US; I was gone all the time. But then when Samantha left and I had the kids, things had to change. By then, the show was big enough, I was able to make demands and they listened.” He shrugged. “It was either that, or I walked.”

  Zoey swallowed. The hottest home renovator to hit TV in decades was also a really good dad. And that was really, really sexy.

  “I, um . . .” She forced out a breath. “That’s really admirable.”

  They stopped in front of a light blue two-story house that looked more like it belonged on a New England coast than it did in the suburbs of Los Angeles. “Wow,” Zoey said. “Great house.”

  “Charlotte’s husband is from Maine. It was his one demand for agreeing to live in California. He got to build a house that looked like home, hence the Cape Cod style.”

  Zoey climbed out of the truck and pushed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, following Harry up to the front door. “So Charlotte, she’s great. Her kids—four boys—are total maniacs though, so I can’t promise you won’t get hit with a dart or a bean bag, or something else as soon as we walk in.” He paused at the front door, his hand on the knob and gave Zoey a serious look. “Ready? All senses on high alert?”

  Zoey suppressed a smile and tried to match his serious tone. “Ready.”

  As soon as the door opened, noise assaulted her ears. Some kind of a Nerf battle was definitely going on, foam bullets flying past her head in several directions. She ducked and lifted her hands to cover her face. Harry grabbed her hand. “See? I told you.” He towed her toward the back of the house, ducking around the corner into the kitchen. “This is a no-fly zone,” he said, still holding Zoey’s hand. “We’ll be safe in here.”

  Zoey glanced at their hands, then up to Harry’s face. He smiled, squeezing her hand lightly before letting it go. Did that mean something? That little squeeze? Zoey felt completely upended.

  “Daddy?”

  Harry turned around and caught the little girl that came barreling across the room. He swept her up into his arms. “Hey, Hannah banana. How was your day?”

  Hannah sighed with dramatic flair. “Horrible. The boys were ridiculous.”

  Harry tossed Zoey a quick glance over his shoulder, a smile in his eyes. “Ridiculous, huh? Where’s Oliver?”

  “In the bathtub. He got goop on him and Aunt Charlotte said it was so gross, he needed a bath.”

  “What kind of goop?”

  Hannah shrugged. “The goopy kind?”

  “Glue,” a woman said as she came around the corner into the kitchen. It had to be Charlotte. She had Harry’s matching eyes. “The glue kind of goop. An entire bottle of Elmer’s spread on every inch of his body. You’d have been proud of how thorough he was.”

  “Wow,” Harry said. “I owe you dinner, don’t I?”

  “You owe me way more than dinner, little brother. Way more.”

  Harry stepped out of the way and motioned to Zoey. “Speaking of, this is Zoey. She’s Ms. Emily’s granddaughter. She’s thinking about helping out with the kids until school starts back.”

  Charlotte looked from Harry to Zoey and then back again. “Truly?” she said to Zoey.

  Zoey lifted her shoulders and smiled. “Maybe? I mean, I’m just meeting the kids right now. Feeling things out. But . . . probably?”

  Charlotte stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Zoey, squeezing her so tightly, Zoey couldn’t even move to return the hug. “I was about to tease you about how much I know your grandma wants you and my brother to get together, but you’ve just made me so happy, I won’t do it.”

  Charlotte finally released her but kept her hands on Zoey’s arms. “I promise the glue thing doesn’t happen every day. Ollie is really sweet. The sweetest.”

  As if on cue, a little boy who could only be Oliver came toddling into the kitchen, his arms outstretched. “Daddy!”

  Zoey didn’t even have time to process why Charlotte knew about her grandma’s designs to get her and Harry together before Harry grabbed her attention, setting Hannah down and picking up his son, snuggling him against his chest. “Hey, little man. I hear you made a mess.”

  “I all clean,” Oliver said.

  Watching Harrison Beckford be a dad? Zoey was really going to like this job.

  Harry turned toward her, wrapping his free arm around Hannah. “Hey, guys? I want you to meet Zoey. This is Ms. Emily’s granddaughter. She might be spending some time with you guys this summer.”

  Zoey reached over and touched Oliver’s back. “Hi, Oliver.” He smiled shyly then tucked his chin into his dad’s shoulder.

  Hannah looked up at Zoey with wide eyes. Oh, she was so going to be spending time with these kids this summer. One look and she was already a goner. She crouched down in front of Hannah. “It’s nice to meet you, Hannah.”

  Hannah took a deep breath. “I like Ms. Emily a lot.”

  Zoey smiled. “Me too.”

  “Want to see my pony collection?”

  Zoey nodded, happy to have been so readily accepted. “Absolutely, I do.” She took Hannah’s hand and followed her toward what she assumed was the living room. She glanced back over her shoulder and met Harry’s gaze. His smile was warm, and there was a look of . . . something on his face that made her skin tingle and her heart squeeze. Maybe it was the kids and the way he interacted with them. Maybe it was his history with Nana. Maybe it was the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled. But Zoey really, really liked this guy.

  She’d be lying to herself if she pretended that the fact he was Harrison Beckford and not just Harry the Handyman didn’t have something to do with her growing fascination. But she’d seen enough in the past hour that she was pretty sure she’d be equally as charmed even if he didn’t have celebrity status. As long as he still had those same smile lines around those same smoky gray eyes.

  They hung out at Charlotte’s a few more minutes before loading up the kids and driving a handful of blocks to Harry’s house. They pulled up to an automated gate and Zoey tried not to crane her neck to catch sight of the house. She’d naturally assumed that Harry had money, but she wouldn’t peg him as a guy that needed the mansion to prove it. Sure enough, they pulled up the winding drive to a house that looked a lot more California than Charlotte’s but wasn’t much bigger in size. The house had two stories, but it still managed a low profile, as if it was nestled into the ground and the surrounding landscape. A huge front door and massive windows and clean modern lines that extended around the side of the house unified everything in a way that Zoey liked, even though she didn’t understand why. The house just worked.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she said as Harry stopped the car.

  “Thanks. I built it myself.”

  “Oh, right. I guess that makes sense.”

  “We’ve only been in it six months,” he said. “It was a labor of love that I started before Hannah was born.”

  “Wow. So you did it all by yourself? No help at all?” Zoey opened the back door and reached for Oliver’s car seat buckles. “Hey, little man. You okay if I help you out of your seat?”

  Oliver looked toward his dad, who gave him an encouraging nod, then nodded slowly at Zoey. He pushed his thumb into his mouth as she unsnapped him. She lifted him out and put him down on the ground where he promptly ran toward the front door.

  “I had help with the framing,” Harry said. “That’s a tough one-man job, but otherwise, it was just me. It was my therapy, working on it alone. It got m
e through years of failed marriage therapy, through two kids, through a divorce. I think life makes more sense when you’re working with your hands, you know?”

  She nodded. She wasn’t particularly handy herself, but she could still relate. She felt the same way about yoga. “What’s your therapy now that the house is done?”

  He smirked. “So that’s why I’m feeling all out of sorts.” He handed Hannah her backpack. “Don’t forget to take this inside, Hannah.”

  The inside of the house was even better than the outside. It was an open-concept floor plan, with the living room flowing into the kitchen and dining area then back into a play area for the kids. It was warm and welcoming and even though it was magazine-level gorgeous, it still felt lived in, like she didn’t need to worry about breaking a dish or scuffing the floor.

  “This is amazing,” Zoey said, taking it all in. “Truly.”

  Harry’s face lit up in genuine surprise. “You think so?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s spectacular.” Zoey walked toward the kitchen. “Has it been on your show?”

  Harry shook his head. “Believe me, the producers have asked. But with the kids . . . I don’t know. I wanted to have something that was just ours. I keep meaning to plan a dinner or something, invite some friends and family over to have a housewarming thing, but I’ve been busy, I guess. I haven’t gotten around to it.”

  “I can’t imagine how you juggle it all.”

  Oliver walked toward where they stood in the kitchen, a book in his hands, and surprised them both when he passed Harry and held the book out to Zoey. “Story?” he asked.

  Zoey looked at Harry and he smiled. “I think he likes you.”

  She took the book. “I’d love to read you a story, Ollie.”

  “Hey, are you okay with dogs?” Harry called. “We’ve got one, and she’s enormous. If I let her out, she’s probably going to maul you.”

  “I love dogs,” Zoey said. “Go for it.” She reached the living room sofa where she pulled Oliver onto her lap and opened the book. Before she could start the first page, a massive curly-haired golden doodle came careening around the couch, nails clicking against the wood floors.

  “Goldy!” Oliver yelled. The dog licked Oliver with a gentleness that surprised Zoey, then snuffled into her leg, tail wagging enthusiastically.

  “Hi, Goldy,” Zoey said. “You’re adorable.”

  Harry reappeared, crossing to the back door. “Hey look, she didn’t eat you.”

  “I think Ollie protected me,” Zoey said.

  “Ah, smart. She’s always gentler with the kids. Marigold!” he called. “Come on, girl. Time to go out.”

  Zoey pulled Oliver a little closer, wondering for the millionth time how she wound up in Harrison Beckford’s living room, snuggling with his kid, hearing stories about his dog, when she hadn’t even known him two hours before.

  She’d thought a lot about what returning to life in Southern California was going to feel like. She’d never thought it would be anything like this.

  Chapter 4

  She was too good to be true.

  She had to be.

  She liked his kids.

  His kids liked her.

  She had a warm smile that she shared generously; she had this quiet, effortless confidence that he found sexy; she was chill and easy to be around; and so far, she’d only asked him one question about his show, which didn’t count since it had actually been about his house.

  He wanted to ask her out. He was going to ask her out. Except, when? The kids had already been at his sister’s house all day. They couldn’t go back there. His mom and stepdad were pretty good about coming over in the evenings, and Samantha’s parents were always willing to keep the kids, but then, the whole point of Zoey being in California in the first place was so she could stay with Ms. Emily in the evenings and on the weekends. Which meant . . . daytime dates? But during the day, he was working and now, hopefully, Zoey would be with his kids.

  Dating-wise, their schedules would allow for . . . basically nothing. Bet Ms. Emily hadn’t thought this part through.

  Zoey crossed into the kitchen, her bag pulled onto her shoulder. “Why are you frowning?” she asked.

  He almost told her; she knew as well as he did what her grandmother hoped for. But then he remembered the way she’d sidestepped the conversation when he’d brought it up as they left Ms. Emily’s house earlier, and he chickened out. If he asked and she said no, would it make her want to turn down the job? He liked her, but he needed someone to help out with the kids more than he needed a date. “Um, nothing. Sorry. Thinking about a work thing.”

  “Oh. Okay, well, I have to be back by five, so if it’s all right with you, I’m going to take off. It’s close enough that I can walk home.”

  “You don’t need to do that. I’ll drive you. I need to pick up dinner for the kids anyway.”

  “Are you sure? I mapped it. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.”

  “Yeah, but it’s July. Don’t do that to yourself unless you have to.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “True.”

  “So, what do you think?” Harry asked, reaching for his keys. “Who’s hungry?” he called into the living room. “Get your shoes on and we’ll go get some dinner.”

  “What do I think?” Zoey asked.

  “About the job?” Harry prompted.

  “Oh! The job. Of course I want the job. Your kids are dolls.”

  Harry smiled. “They really are. Here.” He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, then handed it to Zoey. “Do you mind giving me your number? I’ll text you later and we can talk about pay and that sort of thing. Can you start on Monday?” Really, he could stand her starting tomorrow, but there was only one day left in the week and giving her the weekend to get settled at Emily’s felt like the right thing to do.

  Zoey nodded. “Sure.”

  The look on her face told Harry she had something she wanted to say, but maybe wasn’t sure how to say it.

  “What?” he asked. “You can ask me anything. I don’t want to pressure you into saying yes if you have hesitations.”

  “No, no, it’s not that.” She glanced around the room. “But I do want to ask . . .” She shook her head. “It’s not my business, but I guess I want to understand what happened.” She looked over her shoulder toward the living room where Hannah was helping Oliver put on his shoes. “Will they talk about their mom? Ask about her? Is there something specific you want me to say if they do?”

  Harry breathed out a sigh. “Samantha left when Oliver was eighteen months old, and we haven’t seen her since. They know they have a mom. She sends Christmas and birthday cards full of cash. And her parents are still around; they see the kids every couple of weeks. They might mention her, but they know the deal. It’s not like they’re expecting her to show up any day now.”

  Zoey nodded, her eyes sad. “Got it.”

  Harry ran a hand through his hair. “She’s not a bad person, their mom. She’s just not . . . a mom. She wanted a different life.”

  Zoey shook her head, judgment clouding her expression.

  It’s not like Harry could blame her. Stepping out on your kids wasn’t exactly the honorable thing to do. A year after his divorce, he’d only just started to let go of his bitterness.

  “I don’t understand,” she finally said. “The house, the kids, the dog, the . . .” Her words trailed off and she swallowed, looking Harry up and down, before a trace of pink filled her cheeks.

  Harry kept himself from grinning, but silently cheered over her implied meaning. Maybe she was drawn to him as much as he was to her.

  “It seems like the kind of life everyone dreams of,” Zoey continued.

  Harry shrugged. “Not everyone.”

  She slowly nodded. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be. Samantha was young when we found out she was pregnant with Hannah. We both were. We got married because it seemed like the right thing to do but raising a k
id while I built my career—the first season of Right-On aired the year after Hannah was born—it just, it was too hard. I think Oliver was her last-ditch effort to try and make our life into something she wanted, but it did the opposite. I know it makes her sound selfish, but I don’t fault her for it. It isn’t what she ever wanted for herself. I’d rather she be in New York and happy than here and miserable, making the rest of us miserable too. For my sake, and the kids’.”

  “What’s in New York?” Zoey asked.

  “Broadway. Samantha’s an actress. She’d landed a pretty big role here in L.A. right before she found out she was pregnant with Hannah and had to back out because of the pregnancy. She decided if she was ever going to make it, she had to be in New York.”

  “Wow. You have a remarkably generous and mature outlook.”

  Harry chuckled. “Like I said. It took me more than five years to build this house. That’s a lot of therapy.”

  “Okay. So, no need for tiptoeing around the mom talk, be here between eight and nine, playdates twice a week, dance class for Hannah once a week, and you’re home by four every day? Any food allergies I should know about?”

  “You got it. And no, no food allergies. Oh, I did forget to mention the SUV in the garage for you to use when you’re with the kids. It needs servicing or I’d let you drive it home tonight. I’ll take care of it tomorrow, so it’ll be ready for you to drive next week. That way, you won’t have to worry about moving car seats around or anything.”

  She nodded. “Sounds great.”

  Later that night, after he’d taken Zoey home, picked up In-N-Out for dinner and put the kids to bed, Harry collapsed onto the couch in the living room, too tired to do much more than sit there. His life did require a lot of juggling. It was worth it; he recognized how fortunate he was to have healthy kids, a job he loved that allowed him to be as involved with his kids as he wanted to be, and a pretty stellar support network with his sister and two sets of grandparents close by. But it would be nice to have a little something for himself mixed in there too. A dating life, for one. Even just a day at the beach for some good surfing without having to worry about the waves eating his children. He suddenly wondered if Zoey surfed. She’d moved from Chicago, but if he remembered correctly, she’d grown up here. Maybe he’d find a way to ask her on Monday morning.