He was under her sink when she walked in.
Literally under it—head and shoulders buried in the cabinet, legs sticking out, one boot tapping to music only he could hear. Her dog looked mildly alarmed. She felt the same.
“You must be Lily,” he said, still upside down. “Your landlord sent me. I’m Josh.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Okay. That explains… everything, actually.”
He slid out, grinning. “You caught me in my natural habitat. Nice place, by the way. You’ve got the good kind of chaos.”
She tucked a curl behind her ear and crossed her arms. “Do you normally compliment people’s plumbing setups?”
“Only when they work.” He reached up and tightened something with a final twist. “Last bolt left.”
He stood, taller than she expected, a little scruffy, paint on his forearm.
“Water’s on. No leaks. You want me to check anything else while I’m here?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then smiled.
“Let’s start with the sink.”