The Provider Read Online Madison Pike

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 38936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)

Claire Donovan has regrets.

The stay-at-home mother of three dreams of what her life would’ve been had she followed her career aspirations.
Now that her children are teenagers, slowly leaving the nest, she’s burning with bitterness over the sacrifices she made, tethered to the resentments that have followed her through life.
When Jason Reed shows up at her door one morning with home renovation plans in his callused grip, her life begins to unfold in ways she never imagined.
At first glance, she’s certain the man walked off the set of one of her home renovation shows, but as she gets to know him better, a tangle of love and lust transpires, leaving her questioning her own husband’s loyalty.



“Honey I’m home!” The door clicks open, followed by the sound of David’s briefcase hitting the hardwood floor. I push away the annoying pinch that emerges with his newfound presence. I love my husband, but I despise being interrupted during my home improvement shows. I’ve never been handy with tools. Although I’ve tried, I’m not one of those DIY moms who re-purposes milk cartons into bird feeders, cereal boxes into piñata's. But I find a sense of peace when I watch houses being built from scratch, galley kitchens transformed into colossal open-space dining areas with deep copper sinks and refrigerators that blend in with the cabinetry.

I have no intention of securing one of those female tool belts to my waist anytime soon, but I love to watch the HGTV contractors take over the property, providing tips and space-saving advice to create dream homes. It also helps that these people are always incredibly good looking. Even the women, with their taut bodies pulling up bricks or hammering away at a wall with a fierce sexiness, construction hats pulled over long smooth locks, sun-kissed skin from hours spent outside redesigning a garden.

But it’s the men I really like to watch, and it’s why I can’t take my eyes off the television when David approaches me from behind, where I’m leaning on our dark granite countertop, absorbing every move the man on the television screen is making. My gaze follows him as he walks across the yard, a hammer dangling from one hand, a saw from the other. A map of veins rise from his forearms, and twitch when he stops walking and bends over to show the homeowners and viewers the safest way to saw a piece of plywood. I watch the wife acting all engaged in the sawing motions as if she really gives a damn about protecting herself from splinters. If she’s anything like me, which most women are, she is more interested in the way his back muscles move beneath his white t-shirt, the way his smoldering brown eyes peer up from beneath his baseball cap to acknowledge the camera, as he continues to saw. The way his worn jeans hug him, thanks to the help of a brown leather belt holding them up just enough to showcase the curve of his ass. A measuring tape is clipped to his side and it reconfirms my belief that a man with tools is downright sexy.

Just as I’m about to immerse myself into a full-blown fantasy with the stranger on TV, David pulls me into a backwards hug and kisses the top of my head. “How was your day? I’m assuming it’s been good if you’ve spent most of it watching this.” A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, showcasing his perfectly aligned teeth. At forty-eight years old, David is still just as handsome as the day I met him twenty years ago, maybe even more so. Blessed with a full head of dark hair, it now shows his wisdom and experience with flecks of grey. As opposed to my monthly maintenance trips to the salon, he wears his grey proudly like every other man in the world. Over the years his body has given way to an extra layer of what he likes to call love handles, but he’s managed to hold a steady weight for the last three years thanks to daily running sessions through our hilly neighborhood.

“It’s always good when I’m working on bettering our home.” I say, knowing that he will understand the private joke. David knows about my obsession with home renovation shows and he’s well aware of my infatuations with the male contractors, which keep me tuning in relentlessly. When he’s jokingly accused me of watching the shows to satisfy my needs, I’ve returned the sarcasm and informed him that I watch them to get tips to better our home. Now, on opposite sides of the countertop, David looks around the house searching. “Any kids around?”

“Jenna is at Evan’s, filling out college applications, Ryan is at football practice, and Charlotte is auditioning for the role of Wednesday Addams for the middle school play.” I rattle off the whereabouts of our three children like I’m reporting to my boss about his upcoming agenda items.