A Poor Dad Fixed The Power At A Luxury Spa, Not Realizing The Woman There Was A CEO Falling For Him

The Unexpected Spark at Serene Falls

“You’re kidding me. This is where you’re sending me today,” Yates Granger muttered.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead. He stared up at the towering glass facade of the Serene Falls luxury spa.

He wasn’t dressed for the place. He wore worn jeans, steel-toe boots, and a tool belt slung low on his waist.

Someone had to fix the power outage that had shut down half the spa’s services. That someone was him again.

When you’re a single dad with bills stacked higher than your kid’s Lego towers, you take whatever jobs come in. Yates grabbed his toolbox from the back of his rusted-out truck.

He slammed the door shut. It groaned like it might fall off.

He gave it a pat. “Don’t die on me today,” he said.

Inside, the spa looked like something out of a movie. There were crystal chandeliers and orchids in every corner.

The walls were made of soft sandstone and gold. It was the kind of place where rich people paid someone to rub oils on them.

They listened to waterfall sounds. He walked up to the front desk.

He caught the way the receptionist’s nose twitched at the sight of him. “Power’s out in the treatment wing?”

“Yes,” she said, barely looking at him. “Third floor, and please try not to be seen.”

Yates rolled his eyes and took the service elevator upstairs. He got to work crouched down behind a panel of wires in the hallway.

He was halfway through rewiring a junction box when he heard footsteps. Then he heard a voice, low, female, and sharp with irritation.

“I don’t care if the press is waiting. I’m not giving an interview while the lights are flickering like a haunted house.”

He looked up and froze. She was standing just down the hall with her phone in hand.

Her heels clicked as she paced. Her black pencil dress looked like it cost more than his truck.

She had power in her walk and confidence in her voice. Her expression shifted when she noticed him.

“Oh,” she said, hanging up. “You’re the electrician?”

“Yeah,” Yates stood, brushing off his hands. “Name’s Yates. Power should be back in five minutes.”

She walked over. Her eyes were on his hands, then on his face.

“You’re not from the company we usually hire.” “I freelance,” he said simply.

“They called me in when your usual guy bailed.” Her gaze lingered.

“You’ve got grease on your cheek.” He wiped it off with the back of his wrist.

“Comes with the job.” She gave a small, amused breath.

“I’m Melia Anderson. I run this place.” Yates blinked.

“You’re the manager?” “I’m the CEO,” she corrected, folding her arms.

“Owner, actually.” He let out a low whistle.

“Didn’t think CEOs wore heels that high.” She arched a brow.

“Didn’t think electricians noticed.” He grinned.

“I notice a lot.” Melia’s lips twitched.

“If the lights are fixed, I owe you a thank you.” As if on cue, the hallway lights surged back to life.

Melia glanced up at them, then back at him. “You don’t owe me anything,” Yates said.

He was already packing up his tools. “Just doing my job.”

But she didn’t move. “You always work alone?”

“Pretty much. I’ve got a son to take care of.”

“Makes scheduling easier when I’m my own boss.” Her expression softened just for a second.

“You’re a dad?” “Yeah, his name’s Asher.”

“He’s six. He is wild about dinosaurs and eats peanut butter like it’s a food group.”

Something flickered in her eyes like she was trying not to smile. “That’s kind of adorable.”

Yates slung his toolbox over his shoulder. “He’s the best thing I’ve ever made.”

Melia tilted her head. “You don’t talk like most contractors.”

“Is that a compliment?” “It might be.”

They locked eyes for a beat too long. She cleared her throat.

“Well, I appreciate your help. If we ever need emergency work again, you know where to find me.”

He started walking away, then stopped. “Hey, Melia.”

She looked up. “Yeah?” “Nice meeting you.”

Her lips curved. “Likewise.”

The next morning, Yates was back in his tiny kitchen. He was flipping pancakes while Asher sat at the table.

Asher swung his legs and hummed. “Can I put extra syrup today?” Asher asked.

“Just a little?” Yates said, tossing a paper towel at him playfully.

His phone buzzed just as he sat down. It was an unknown number.

He almost didn’t answer until he heard her voice. “Yates, it’s Melia Anderson.”

He sat up straighter. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you’re available for some more work.” “Not electrical this time?”

“Something else.” “What kind of work?”

“Have lunch with me.” He blinked.

“That sounds more like a date than a job.” There was a pause.

“Maybe it is.” His heart kicked.

“You sure about that?” “I don’t ask out strangers, but you didn’t feel like a stranger.”

Yates glanced at Asher. He was now making a syrup volcano on his pancake.

“I’ve got my son today,” he said. “No sitter.”

“Bring him,” she said. “I’d like to meet the peanut butter monster.”

Two hours later, Yates walked into the rooftop terrace of Serene Falls. He was in jeans and a clean button-down.

He hadn’t worn it in years. Asher held his hand, his eyes wide.

He looked around at the view. Melia was already seated at a private table.

She was dressed in a soft blue blouse and wide-leg trousers. She looked like she’d walked off a magazine cover.

When she saw them, she stood and smiled. She looked like she’d been waiting all day.

“You must be Asher,” she said, crouching down. “I heard you love dinosaurs.”

“Triceratops are cool,” Asher said. He was clearly unsure if she was a real grown-up or some kind of rich fairy.

She laughed. “Mine too.”

Lunch was grilled salmon and roasted vegetables with fresh lemonade. Asher got chicken fingers with a side of fruit carved into stars.

Yates watched as Melia asked his son about school and art class. She asked about his favorite dinosaurs.

She didn’t fake interest; she listened. Then her eyes met Yates’s across the table.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.” He smiled.

“That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

She leaned in. “Can I see you again?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “You can.”

Just like that, something shifted. Neither of them said the word for it yet.

But it was there. It was in the space between her hand and his, almost touching across the linen tablecloth.