Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Caleb Maverick
Taking a last-minute plumbing project wasn't on my agenda.
Neither was the curvy little ball of sunshine who answered the door.
Or her devilish little dog.
Now I'm waist-deep in water with hearts in my eyes.
The dog likes me. The woman? Not so much.
Sutton is hiding from something, and I think I might be in the way.
Too bad for her. I'm not going anywhere.
One way or another, she's going to spill her secrets.
When she does, I'll protect her from whatever sent her to Clearwater.
And then, I'm laying claim to every inch of her heart.
Sutton Reynolds
Hiding out in Clearwater was supposed to be relaxing.
I could put my guard down and breathe for a little while.
So tell me, why am I more stressed out than ever?
Oh, right. Because there's a grumpy mountain man in my kitchen.
And he keeps saying filthy things to me.
Part of me wants to flee into the night.
The biggest part wants to see if Caleb can actually do that thing with his tongue.
There's just one problem with that. He has no idea who I am…or who my parents are.
Once he finds out, he might change his mind about me.
I'm pretty sure that's going to break my heart into pieces because I think I'm already falling for the filthy man.
If you enjoy light romance with a touch of drama and plenty of steam, you'll love this gruff mountain man, his songbird, and her crazy puppy!
Get ready to fall in love with the mountain men of Clearwater Construction! These blue-collar men are about to meet the women of their dreams!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Caleb
Ring. Ring. Ring.
I snatch my pillow out from underneath me and slam it down over my head, trying to block out the shrill ring of my cell phone. It's four in the morning. Way too goddamn early for anyone to be calling me. And yet, my phone has been blowing up for the last five minutes.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter when it stops and then immediately starts again.
I toss the pillow across my bed and grab my phone from the nightstand, swiping to answer. "If you aren't calling to tell me someone is dead or in jail, I swear to Christ, I'm going to hunt you down and stick my foot up your ass."
"The floodgates have opened in my house, and I don't know how to build an Ark," an adorable little voice cries, sniffling in distress. Fuck my life. She's crying.
If it's too early for phone calls, it's definitely too early for crying.
I don't know what to do with tears. Every damn time some chick starts crying, I take drastic measures. My younger sister played me like a drum growing up because of that shit. Hell. She still does. As soon as her eyes well up, I cave like a house of cards and give her whatever she wants. I'm a certified sucker.
"You're calling me at four in the morning because you have a leak?"
Oh, yeah. This certified sucker is also a crabby asshole most of the time. It's part of my charm. Except, you know, women hate it. This works out well for me, considering I'm not fucking looking for a woman. I like my peaceful little slice of heaven in the mountains just fine.
I lived with my sister long enough to know women aren't conducive to peace. Or quiet. Or anything resembling the two of them combined.
"No," the girl on the phone huffs, clearly annoyed. See? That's not peaceful or quiet. "This is what happens when a leak springs a leak. The animals are lining up outside my front door!"
A smile cracks my lips at her hot retort. I flip onto my back, staring up at the dull-white, spackled ceiling. The uneven surface catches the light from the lamp on my nightstand, creating uneven shadows across the room. "Single-file or two-by-two?"
"They're coming in pairs. Are you going to help me or continue teasing me?"
"What happened? Actually, first things first. What's your name?"
"Sutton Reynolds."
Sutton Reynolds. Whoever she is, she's not from around here. I've never heard the name before, and that accent is unmistakably southern.
"What happened, Sutton?"
"How should I know? You're the plumber."
My brows furrow. "Who the fuck told you that?"
"George Watson. I called him. He said he was out of town and to call you."
Okay, so I'm killing George Watson. He didn't tell me he was going out of town. He's the plumber in Clearwater. I'm a pipefitter. It's not the same thing. Do I know how to fix leaks? Obviously. I fill in for George occasionally. But plumbing is not what I do. I work at Clearwater Construction, outfitting new projects with pipes. You know, before people move in, and I'm required to deal with them.
"Are you going to help me or not, Mr. Maverick? Because I wasn't kidding. I have water flooding the kitchen over here."
"Jesus fucking Christ. You need to turn it off."
"Oh, so now we're saying obvious things? Because I tried that already," she grumbles. "The thingy is stuck."
"The thingy?" I smile again. Who is this girl? And why do I suddenly not care that she woke me up at four in the morning? She's fucking adorable on the phone…which means she's probably even more adorable in person. If I were smart, I'd stay far away. Especially considering how fast everyone else on the crew is coupling up lately. It's like they all got hit by the goddamn love bug at once or something. The last thing I need is to get struck by the same illness.
But I'm curious as hell about this girl. She's equal parts adorable, feisty, and innocent. She reminds me of sunshine, all bright and comforting. With a temper that burns hot.
It's an intriguing combination.
"Yes. The thingy. As in, the thingy that turns off the water that I can't currently use because it's stuck!" she cries. "I'm throwing myself on your mercy, Mr. Maverick. It doesn't sound like you have very much of that—you're awful cranky—but I need help. And you seem to be my only hope."
Well, it didn't take her long to decide she doesn't like me, now did it? Obviously, I'm fucking going, though. I may be a cranky bastard, but I'm not heartless. I can't just leave her to deal with the leak on her own, especially if she has water flooding her kitchen.
"Text me the address. I'll be there in half an hour."
"Oh, thank God," she breathes into the phone.