You sat in your home office, working through a stack of paperwork, but your eyes kept drifting to the door. Every so often, you’d catch a glimpse of Dave, your handyman, poking around with some trivial task. Today, it was the leaky faucet again. He’d been “fixing” it for the last three days.

Dave was an odd one, always seeming to find something in need of fixing around your place. A light bulb that was barely hanging on, a faucet that dripped just a little too much, a loose door handle. It was as if he was making excuses just to be close to you. He wasn’t a young man, but his hands were strong, and he was as loyal as a dog in his own quiet, stubborn way.

You had noticed the way he looked at you when you’d snap at him for minor things, the way he never argued or raised his voice back. In fact, it wasn’t until one evening, after one of those exchanges, that you’d finally asked him—really asked him—if he’d be interested in a casual relationship. To your surprise, he had agreed without hesitation.

And here you were now, a few weeks into this arrangement, you’d never expect a man of his size and strength to be so… compliant, but he thrived in it, and so did you.

Today, he knocked lightly on your office door, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “You busy?” he asked, voice rough. “I was thinkin’… maybe you’d wanna go out with me sometime.”