Sasha
“Who are you?” The stranger’s piercing gaze drilled into me, his tone screaming, “Don’t even think about looking my way, it won’t end well!”—all while a baby wailed in his arms.
“I’m… a handyman for hire!” I blurted out, and the tension instantly melted away as I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. I quickly pretended to be fascinated by the colorful laces on my sneakers to hide the nervous, borderline manic grin spreading across my face.
“A handyman? Seriously?”
“Well, I mean, I’m not a man, but I’m here for the hour!” I fired back, only to realize how ridiculous—and oddly suggestive—that sounded.
“I didn’t order anyone!” The gorgeous stranger’s eyes flashed with such icy disdain that I instinctively took a step back. “God, what am I even saying?” I thought, panicking. His looks didn’t help matters. He was the kind of guy who always left me tongue-tied—clearly successful, well-off, and, to top it all off, ridiculously handsome. A double threat, and a direct hit to whatever scraps of confidence and eloquence I had left.
“I’m so sorry for the mix-up. I work for ‘Handyman for an Hour.’ You booked a service. How can I help? I’m a qualified professional!” My rehearsed spiel came out less convincing than I’d hoped, so I tacked on a desperate, “I swear, I am!” at the end.
“This is a nightmare! In this little town, everything is just…” Thankfully, the baby decided to back me up with a scream so loud that the rest of his words drowned in it like a leaf in a puddle.
“So, can I come in?” I decided to take the initiative. If I didn’t get this right, Sasha wouldn’t be able to keep his job.
To my surprise, the handsome stranger stepped back a few paces and let me into the apartment. As I brushed past him, I caught a whiff of his cologne—something expensive, no doubt. I closed my eyes for a split second, enchanted by the subtle notes of fruit and something exotic.
Exotic was the perfect word for this “client” in our small town. A tall blond with a movie-star vibe, chiseled muscles peeking through a stylish—but stained—shirt. He looked like he belonged in a blockbuster playing some Nordic hero or starring in a high-end ad campaign. But a sudden bathroom disaster had clearly derailed his plans. And then there was the screaming kid, who sounded like he hadn’t eaten in days. I couldn’t help but wonder—where was the mom? There’s no way a guy like this could be single. It just didn’t make sense!
The absence of a mom became even clearer when I stepped into the barely lived-in but already cluttered living room. A torn-open pack of diapers, a heap of toys for a child around 3 to 5 years old, a pile of dirty kids’ clothes—and to complete the picture, a charming little puddle seeping out from under the bathroom door. Lovely! No wonder he was so grumpy.
“I’m Sasha! You’ve got a problem in the bathroom, right? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!” I rattled off quickly, kicking off my sneakers. No way was I walking around a home with a kid in shoes!
“Listen, Sasha, I’m sorry, but I was expecting a handyman, not…”
“We can discuss your preferences later. For now, can I just do my job?” Without waiting for permission, I bolted toward the bathroom, but not before catching a flicker of shock—and a satisfying dent in his polished ego—on that pretty blond face.