As she reached her car parked on the street, she heard a loud motor and spotted the BMW sports car owned—or at least driven by—good old Hapless.
He parked right behind her Highlander, shut off the engine, and climbed out. He wore a fitted and wildly expensive white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms…and that expensive watch on his wrist.
Definitely not a handyman’s wardrobe.
He flashed a smile and took off his sunglasses, as though he needed to get a better look at her.
Vivien rolled her eyes.Perfect. Just what I need. A run-in with the con artist.
She opened the driver’s door, hoping they could get away with a cursory nod, but he just kept coming, regarding her closely.
“You okay?” he asked, the tone of the question both off-putting and a little…personal.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? Because you look like someone just ran over your puppy.”
Vivien exhaled, pressing her fingers to her temple. “Not my puppy, just my job. I’m leaving—for good.” She added a tight smile. “She’s all yours.”
Danny tilted his head, stepping closer. “Oh, man. Did mydelightfulsister fire you?”
Vivien blinked, whipping around so hard she felt hair. “Your…sister?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking surprised. “You didn’t know that?”
“She’s…your…what?”
He laughed. “Eleven years older, but don’t tell her that. Actually, don’t tell her anything if you want to live. But I take it you learned that the hard way.”
Vivien gaped at him, her brain short-circuiting.Sister?
She replayed every assumption she’d made about him and how very, very wrong she’d been.
“Is that why you aren’t…such a great handyman?”
He threw his head back with a hearty laugh that came right from his chest—the chest she’d once seen shirtless and had admittedly stared at. The move showed beautiful straight teeth, a strong neck, and…and…
Hissister?
“I’m the worst handyman in the county, possibly the state,” he said. “However, she’s been through a dozen of them, several plumbers and electricians, three housekeepers, and two landscapers. I think there’s an underground network of service professionals who’ve blacklisted Fiona. So…” He lifted a shoulder. “I attempt to help but that’s not my, uh, thing.”
She blew out a breath. “I apologize.”
“For what?”
She studied him for a minute, not wanting to tell him what she’d assumed. The absolute worst.
“No!” He leaned forward, a mix of shock and amusement in his eyes as he figured it out. “You thought… How could you?”
“I saw you having dinner, and…”
“You thought I’m some kind of player trying to…” He cracked up. “I’m taking her to dinner right now. I do every week. Still, that’s rich. I can’t wait to tell her.”
“Please don’t. She already hates me and every decision I ever made.”
His smile faltered. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s not your fault I didn’t listen to her on paint. And the mirror. And…everything.”
