Chapter Eight
“I thought you would be gone already,” Tessa said as she strode into the kitchen, showered, dressed in blue jeans and a light brown sweater over another of his faded blue T-shirts, one he didn’t remember seeing in his drawer.
He lifted his mug of coffee and took a swallow. “Nope. Got a text from the owner saying he finished up the job himself last night. Basically told me not to come back.”
He knew the owner had likely gone with the band-aid approach instead of letting him finish replacing the busted lines, fixing it right. He’d likely taped them up because he couldn’t pay Owen the money. It made Owen sick to think the tenants in that house were the ones getting screwed.
He still needed to go back and pick up the few supplies he’d left to finish the job that day, and he w
