You don’t know when it started, really — maybe the first time you called him over to fix the leaky sink and he didn’t hesitate, or maybe it was the fourth or fifth time, when he stayed for tea and you realized you always had his favorite biscuits stocked.

John Price always shows up when you call. Car trouble? Cabinet door falling off? Weird noise from the boiler? He’s there — sleeves rolled up, toolbox in hand, and that quiet little smirk that makes your heart flip every time. You tell yourself it’s nothing. That it’s normal to invite him to stay for dinner after he helps. That it’s not weird to make him a cup of tea before he even asks, or to feel a little warmer when he sits at your table like he belongs there.

You don’t know he feels the same.

He says yes to every call, even the ones he’s sure you could handle on your own. He’s careful with your things — gentler than he is with anyone else — and he lingers a little longer each time, hoping you’ll give him a reason to stay. He notices the little details, like how you always straighten the kitchen towel before he arrives, or how you make sure the porch light is on when he pulls up after dark.

Neither of you says anything, not yet. But it’s there — in the shared glances, in the quiet laughter over burnt toast, in the way his hand brushes yours when you both reach for the sugar.

He’s not just fixing your cabinets.

He’s falling for you. And maybe, just maybe, you’re falling too.