Miss Fix-It by Emma Hart

Author:Emma Hart [Hart, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Emma Hart
Published: 2017-10-30T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Five p.m. rolled around before I knew it. I was pretty sure I still had paint on my head. I sure as hell had it just about everywhere else. I was all dry and crusty and gross.

I’d barely been able to fix the mess caused by the kids when they fought. I’d managed to wipe the surplus paint off, but other than that… Let’s just say I had a couple more coats of white paint to do tomorrow.

I finished cleaning the rollers and trays off in the bathtub. The mix of blue and red as it swirled through the water before draining away was almost headache-inducing. It was much brighter wet, and mixed with water… Ugh.

I turned and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like a complete mess. Red paint in my hair and over my forehead. There were streaks of blue and pink across my neck and chest. The same happened when I looked down. I was a walking art exhibition.

One day, I would be able to paint a wall and not cover myself in it.

It was amazing. I could install a kitchen without getting a splinter, but painting a wall without getting covered in paint?

Not a chance in hell.

I glanced around for a cloth to wipe my face with. I didn’t see one, so I switched on the tap and did the best I could with my fingers. It wasn’t great, but I managed to get the majority of it off, and a scrub with a towel did the rest. There wasn’t much I could do about my hair.

I gripped the edge of the sink and took a deep breath. I was exhausted. I could feel it as it snaked its way through the body. The last few hours of today had been hell, and Ellie had essentially wiped out everything I’d done in Eli’s room.

For that, I wanted to do Eli’s room first. To make her wait. But that was spiteful, too, and it didn’t make me, as a twenty-six-year-old adult any better than her at four-years-old.

I huffed and straightened up, then grabbed my stuff from the tub. Shaking off the excess water, I put one tray inside the other, then stacked the rollers and the brushes inside to pick up easily.

And walked right into Brantley.

Everything I’d just picked up clattered to the floor.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“I got it.” He got on his knees and picked it all up as I ran my hand over my face. Standing, he flicked her eyes over me. “You look exhausted.”

“Damn. I should have left the paint on my face if it’s that obvious.”

He smirked. “Should I pretend that the paint on the rest of you hides it?”

“Could you? Thanks.”

“In Eli’s room?” He lifted the tray slightly.

“Oh, er, yeah. Thanks.” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something—”

He held his hands up. “Don’t worry. They won’t bug you anymore, I promise. I called Summer. They’re going to her every day until the walls and floors are done so you can work in peace.

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