Cherry Fowler came to house-sit her mom's place for one reason: to figure out what the hell to do with her shiny new degree and complete lack of direction.
Ray Patel lives in the pool house and has zero patience for the city girl who can't tell a wrench from a screwdriver.
He's older, brooding, and entirely too good with his hands. She's bright, restless, and entirely too good at getting under his skin. They're oil and water. Fire and gasoline. Absolutely, positively wrong for each other.
Which doesn't explain why every sarcastic comment makes her pulse race.
Or why every time he looks at her, she forgets every reason this is a terrible idea.
One scorching summer. One pool house. And enough sexual tension to burn the whole place down.
Ray knows Cherry's leaving at the end of summer-she's got a teaching job waiting and a future that doesn't include small-town handymen with more baggage than tools. He should keep his distance. He should definitely not be fantasizing about her in ways that have nothing to do with fixing the plumbing.
A scorching summer romance about the recent grad finding herself and the handyman who helps fix more than just the house.