Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Valentina waved Bella off. “I got it. Go to your interview. You don’t want to be late.”
“Go,” I added. “I’ll help Val clean up.”
“Okay. I owe you one.”
“I’ll add it to the pile of ones you owe me.”
Val and I were both quiet after the screen door slammed closed. It felt like small talk was needed.
“She’s supposed to be out here for a four-day weekend, and she’s interviewing for a job.”
“Well, at least she took some initiative. You could have arrived to a house full of knocked-over, red Solo cups and passed-out teenagers.”
“I suppose.”
Val stood and picked up her plate and Bella’s. But I took them from her hands. “I got it. Sit. You cooked.”
“I can’t just sit here and let you clean up.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t.”
“I tell you what, if you don’t let me clean up, I’m going to continue my story about what I was doing when I was thinking about you this week.”
She started to speak, but then closed her mouth and sat back down, a light blush on her cheeks.
I mumbled to myself, though loud enough that she could hear, “Shame. It’s a phenomenal story.”
After I had all the dishes rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher, I noticed a puddle of water forming at my feet. “I think you have a leak?”
“Crap. Ryan was supposed to fix that when he was out here last summer. I told him to call a plumber, but since we share expenses on the house, he never wants to spend on a repairman.”
“I can take a look.”
“No. It’s okay.”
“I’m good at fixing things.” I grinned. “Don’t let my pretty face fool you into thinking I’m a wuss.”
“Really, it’s fine. I can call someone.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to fix it. Do you have a bucket and a toolbox somewhere with a wrench?”
“I think Ryan has some things in the closet.”
On second thought, I didn’t want to use her ex’s shit for some reason. “I’ll just run next door and grab what I’ll need to take the drain apart and see what’s going on.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I got to the front door and turned back to make an obnoxious joke about getting to take care of her pipes after all, but when I did, I found her eyes firmly attached to my ass. Caught, her eyes jumped to meet mine, and a guilty look washed over her face.
I winked. “The feeling’s mutual. I admired your ass for most of your yoga class, so we’re even.” I wiggled my brows. “Be back to take care of your pipes.”
Chapter 8
* * *
Valentina
Ryan certainly didn’t look like that anymore.
I bit my lip, staring down at the lower half of Ford sprawled out on my kitchen floor. He’d taken apart my sink, found a crack in the drainpipe, and went to three different plumbing supply stores to find the right part—one all the way in East Hampton. Now he was shoulder-deep inside my cabinet, installing the new drain. I stood nearby, handing him the occasional tool and ogling his body. I couldn’t help myself. His dark T-shirt had ridden up, giving me a personal peep show starring rock-hard abs, a deep-set V, a tattoo that ran up his side, and a sexy-as-all-hell thin line of hair that ran down into his Calvin Klein underwear band. The view had my fingers itching to trace that happy trail all the way down to the end.
He twisted his body as he used the wrench to tighten something, and the V of his abs deepened. Jesus. On second thought, I was pretty sure Ryan never looked like that. I sighed, quietly mourning the loss of what was right in front of me—mere inches away—yet I’d never have.
Ford slid out from the cabinet, and I quickly averted my eyes, hoping I wouldn’t get caught checking him out a second time today.
“Go ahead. Give it a test run. Turn the water on.”
I leaned forward and lifted the handle on the faucet while Ford watched from beneath. After a minute, he smiled. “Good as new.”
“Wow. Thank you so much. I owe you big time. You’ll have to let me make you a nice dinner, at least.”
“How about you let me take you out to dinner instead?”
“That’s not repaying you the favor. It’s just adding to my debt.”
He raised a brow. “You can square up after our date.”
“Ford…”
“Relax. I’m joking. Sort of. How about a beer on the back deck instead?”
I smiled. “That sounds amazing, actually. Let me just clean up in here, and I’ll join you. There’s plenty of beer in the fridge.”
“Actually, I’m going to run next door and take a quick shower.” He held up his hands.
They were greasy and dirty. And manly. There’s something so sexy about a guy whose hands look like he isn’t afraid to do physical labor. Rugged hands had always been a turn-on for me. Then there were the tattoos on his muscular forearms. I really needed to stop finding things sexy about this man.