Hot for the Handyman: Love Unexpected, #1

Hot for the Handyman

Paige Bennett

Books by Paige Bennett

The Awakening of Alyce

Lust and Found

Beautiful Music

Focused Desire

Obsession

Cheek to Cheek

Appetite for Seduction

Hot for the Handyman

To Sir, With Lust

The Hottest Heat #1

The Hottest Heat #2

Hot for the Handyman

Copyright © 2013 by Paige Bennett

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Cover Art © 2018 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

Second Edition August 2017

Previous Published July 2013 by Phaze Books

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Chapter One

Yvetta Phelps gasped for air. Her thighs screamed as she stepped up and down the step platform to the heavy beat of the music, keeping time with the other class members. Sweat rolled down her round cheeks and she could feel the uncomfortable tickle of sweat in her ample cleavage and under her arms. Why the hell had she agreed to join this class? Thank God I wear my hair short, she thought, as she felt droplets slide down her neck. Next time, a sweat band...if I’m stupid enough to come a next time.

At last, the music stopped and the instructor led a round of applause. Excellent work, people. See you next time.

Like hell, thought Yvetta taking a long drink from her water bottle.

Wasn’t that great? Cherise Hendricks, Yvetta’s best friend and the person responsible for Yvetta joining the class, toweled her face and grinned.

Not the word I’d’ve had chosen, Yvetta said, still panting from her efforts.

Oh come on. I feel great!

Yvetta looked at her friend. She was five-foot-five, curvy but athletic at the same time. She supposed the word was toned, for Cherise had always been an avid gym goer. Yvetta on the other hand was of the voluptuous variety of woman, the kind you saw in ancient goddess depictions. Double D breasts, narrow waist, full round hips and ass. She had no sharp edges even at elbow and knee—just soft round curves. Add to this, her five-feet-nine-inches of height, and she felt like an Amazon in this room of sylphs.

She gulped down half her bottle of water.

Did you see the honey with the bicycle pants? Cherise asked, dabbing her face and neck with a pink towel.

What honey? asked Yvetta. She’d been so intent on just keeping up, she wouldn’t have noticed a herd of alpacas walking through the classroom.

He was on the other side of the room, by the window.

Yvetta looked around. Nope. Sorry. Didn’t notice.

Cherise gave her a pointed look, shaking her head. Girl, you need to come out of that fog you walk around in. You’ve been widowed three years now. It’s time to get back in the game.

This was a familiar conversation between the women. Cherise felt that Yvetta had let herself die at the same time her husband did, and Yvetta mourned the happy marriage she’d had with her wonderful husband, Earl. The thought of replacing him with another man was just distasteful to her.

But lately—and she’d never confess this to her friend—she’d been experiencing a change of heart, or at least a change of perspective. To put a label on it, she was lonely.

At fifty-three, she was far from over the hill. In fact, many people would be saying she was just embarking on the best years of her life. She was attractive, if perhaps a little curvier than was considered fashionable these days. But with her height, she carried the extra pounds well. She was intelligent and creative, enjoying a wide range of pursuits from crafting to regular outings to the theatre and the symphony. She was teaching piano again, a job she’d set aside when she married.  She had a lovely mortgage-free home that she and Earl had bought when they were first married, and in which they’d raised their daughter Tanisha. What was missing was a partner—someone with whom to share all the bounty in her rich life.

A wave of restlessness washed through Yvetta. She tossed her towel over her shoulder and made her way towards the change rooms.

Wanna go for coffee? Cherise sidled up to the locker beside Yvetta’s and fiddled with the lock. I skipped lunch today, so could really use a snack.

Why do you do that? Yvetta turned from her locker and put a hand on her hip. You skip meals trying to cut down calories, and then end up having something sinful.

Cherise laughed. "I skip meals so I can have the something sinful."

Yvetta shook her head and chuckled. You’re incorrigible.

Yeah, but you love me anyway.

This was true. Yvetta met Cherise over twenty-five years ago, shortly after she and Earl had moved to the area, and just after Tanisha had been born. The two women, though poles apart in personality and appearance, had hit it off instantly. Cherise was Tanisha’s godmother. Yvetta had stood beside Cherise when she’d divorced her husband. And Cherise had been a Godsend through the horrible weeks of Earl’s sudden illness and death. Yvetta couldn’t imagine a world without Cherise.

Oh, at times, sure, she got a little annoyed at her friend. Cherise dove into the dating pool with a vengeance once she was free again, and had a tendency to favor men much younger than herself. Cougars, these kinds of women were called, predators by nature being the implication. It made Yvetta worry about her friend and what would become of her.

And Cherise was constantly nagging at her to follow in her stead and get back into the dating game.

She refused to listen to Yvetta’s reasons for foregoing such pursuits: she was too old for that nonsense, too spoiled by her ideal marriage, and too busy with her life. Cherise’s response was generally a sour face and a very loud raspberry. Still, she was the greatest best friend a girl could want, and Yvetta was glad for her presence in her life.

You should go with me to the singles mixer at the Fairmont this Saturday night, said Cherise. There’s guaranteed to be at least a few really dishy men there to meet.

I’ve told you before, I’m not interested in those single’s things you go to.

And I keep suggesting it, hoping one of these days you’ll see the light and take me up on the invitation. Come on Yve, you’d have a great time. I promise.

Yvetta shook her head and gave her friend a quelling look. No thank you.

The two women wrapped towels around themselves, grabbed their toiletry bags, and sauntered over to the showers.

So, coffee then, at least?

Sure, said Yvetta. She squirted body wash onto a washcloth and lathered her skin. It felt good to rid herself of the sticky sweat. But I can’t go for long. Byron is taking me to the new play at the Wintergarden.

Are you two finally getting serious or something? asked Cherise.

What? Yvetta was genuinely shocked. Byron was a fellow member at the church. He’d been widowed the year after Yvetta, and through the shared tragedy, the two had become friends. They had fallen into a comfortable companionship, going to the theater, movies, the odd dinner out. But romance? Hardly. Byron was a nice man, but he was not Yvetta’s type that way. He was too cautious, too mild-mannered, too...well, fuddy duddy, in a way. No. Of course not. You know that Byron and I are just friends.

Uh-huh? Are you sure he knows that? Cherise pursed her lips and gave her a pointed look.

Of course he does, she said feeling defensive. And then she thought. Did he? Of course he did. She’d never given him any encouragement in that direction. Her stomach twisted. God, she hoped he didn’t have other ideas.

Fine, said Cherise. "But it seems to me you two spend an awful