Fixed Up Read Online Free PDF Page A

attend in the future.’ Harper crossed her fingers. Please .
    â€˜I really must insist on a refund. I’ll be sure to tell all my quilting friends how supportive you were in my time of need,’ said Judy.
    Harper slumped back down in her chair. She relied on friendly gossip to ensure her good reputation. She’d seen up close and personal what happened when the gossip went against you, how damaging it could be to the family name and the reputation of everyone connected. Her mother had embarrassed her enough when she was growing up, everything she did openly and gleefully gossiped about by the neighbours.
    â€˜Of course, Judy, I’ll put your refund in the post.’
    She tossed her phone aside and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. What was it she’d said to Luke Colton, only an hour ago?
    I just want to forget this day ever happened.
    Even more reason now, with the day sliding from crap to costly to catastrophic. The potential highlight had been the moment Luke lowered her onto the lounger, his arms strong around her, mingled scents of summer and sawdust in his hair—and she hadn’t appreciated it. If she’d known what was in store, she might’ve taken the time to stop and smell the gorgeous man instead of fleeing with all the grace of an obnoxious ingrate.
    She gave herself a mental slap on the hand. Daydreaming didn’t pay the bills.
    And her struggle to get DIY Divas to a point where it did pay the bills would always take priority over the hunky-yet-unsuitable Luke Coltons of the world.
    ***
    Harper’s photo taunted Luke over the next couple of hours. Teasing him as he drove his new barbecue back home. Tantalising him as he dropped off a motley collection of wallpaper samples to his mother’s house.
    He’d googled Harper’s home address, checked out her DIY Divas website and managed to resist stalking her on Facebook. For all of five minutes he patted himself on the back for his remarkable restraint only to find he’d somehow gotten into his truck and driven a direct path to Harper’s house, in the leafy Auckland suburb of Grey Lynn.
    He sat in his truck across the road from her house. His hands fidgeted with the folder as he contemplated the possible reception he’d receive. Worst case scenario she’d call the police. He took a deep breath and climbed out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. He beeped the lock with his key remote and strode towards Harper’s front door. If he stopped to question himself, he’d probably take the sensible course: stick the folder in the letterbox and run like hell.
    Pretty much the opposite of what he was actually—stupidly—doing.
    He knocked on the door and waited. The cute little villa, similar to others of its period all over the country, was surrounded by old trees in need of pruning, overgrown garden beds and looked like a candidate for demolition. It had the look of a property neglected for many years, but the pile of newly sawn timber and the neatly stacked paint pots on the porch told a different story. Luke couldn’t resist poking a finger into the dry rot on one of the porch weatherboards, but jumped back when the front door opened.
    â€˜Luke?’ The husky voice was all he recognised of the woman who stood before him.
    â€˜Harper?’
    â€˜That’s my name.’ She stood balanced on both feet in her defensive stance again, so he took a step back. Without her high heels she barely came up to his chest and he realised having him looming in her doorway, an oversized hulk of a stranger, might not be the best way to win her over.
    And now he’d seen her like this, win her over he must.
    Every inch of her was covered in a fine layer of dust, from the top of the old softball cap she wore, to the worn-looking work boots. And the bits in between—Luke felt that jolt again. The same jolt of awareness he’d experienced the first time he’d seen