Page 20 of Worst Wingman Ever

The man standing there was in a gray tee, jeans, and a tool belt—red tools.

“I’m maintenance, you called about a door?” he said, looking at his phone.

“Yeah, hi, come in.”

He glanced up and froze. Then I froze too.

He looked familiar. Where did I know him from?

“I . . . I know you,” he said.

“I think I know you too.”

“I met you in the courtyard at the Rose Roof Apartments. A couple of months ago,” he said. “I had my dog.”

I broke into a grin. “Doobie. I remember.”

Wow. He’d looked good to me then, but he looked fantastic now. He’d gotten a haircut, trimmed his beard.

He was staring at me like he’d seen a ghost.

“So you work here?” I asked.

“I live here. Yeah, I’m the maintenance guy.”

I smiled. “This is where you got stung by hornets?”

He nodded back the way he came. “Over in the parking garage.”

“So that’s who took that nest down. A hero.”

He chuckled, still looking at me wide-eyed.

I couldn’t believe it.

He’d crossed my mind a lot since that day. I couldn’t seem to shake that little connection we’d had, but I never in a million years thought I’d see him again.

He cleared his throat. “So you have a broken door?”

“The sliding glass door in the living room,” I said, putting a thumb over my shoulder. “It’s sticking?”

“Okay. Let’s have a look.”

I stepped aside and let him in, and he headed for the balcony. I watched him as he went.

He filled the room, and he did it in the best way. He was tall and imposing but with a friendly sort of gentleness about him.

I knew him by reputation. He checked on the elderly tenants in the building; my next-door neighbor had mentioned it.

I didn’t know what to do with myself all of a sudden. I felt nervous, like I did on a first date I was really excited about.

I tucked my hair behind my ear. “So have you lived here long?” I asked.

He glanced at me. “Not long. You?”

“Since December.”

He started sliding the door back and forth. A nice biceps flexing.