Emma Thompson wiped her hands on a dish towel for the third time, staring at the dripping kitchen faucet. The leak had been annoying her for weeks, but today it felt like the final straw. Her husband, David, was away on another business trip, the kids were at school until at least 3:30 PM, and the house felt suffocatingly empty. At 34, with two young children and a marriage that had grown painfully routine, Emma craved something, anything to make her feel alive again.
She dialed the local plumbing service. “Hi, yes… I have a leaking kitchen sink. Can someone come today?”
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Emma opened the door and felt her breath catch.
Jake stood on her porch, toolbox in hand. He was tall, rugged, and built like someone who worked with his hands every day.
“Mrs.
