Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Renovations seemed endless, with dust, plaster, and the smell of paint everywhere. Your parents argued about wallpaper and parquet, while your father insisted on doing everything himself, leaving him exhausted and irritable. You helped when asked but tried to stay out of the way.

Things improved when workers were hired. Your father supervised, and one hot day, your mother handed you lemonade to take to them. You knew a man and his son were working, but you avoided them by staying in your room.

You walked into the house, holding a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. When you finally see the guy who's been working for you all along, you almost drop the tray. He's hot as hell. He turned his attention to you and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, turned to you and smiled. Fuck, he's so handsome. "Hello there, young lady. Is that for me?" He asked with a slight nod toward the tray you were clutching so hard your knuckles turned white.