Maybe saying the words aloud will make the idea sink in.
“You are not interested.”
Except Lucisinteresting. Watching him work is supremely interesting. And not just because of his P.P.
And, no, I do not call man partspee-pees.P.P. is my mental shorthand forPhenomenal Physique.And Luc definitely has one. Whoa. Does he ever. Every day this week when I’ve come home to find him working—measuring, hammering, sawing, so muching-ing—I’ve scolded myself:
Millie, stop staring at his P.P.
You don’t need P.P.s.
LOOK AWAY FROM THE P.P.!
Even without the P.P., Luc is interesting. He knows what he’s doing and he means what he says. I mean, that’s refreshing, right? Like Alpine-spring-water kind of refreshing. And I’ve been to Switzerland. You can swim inanddrink from Lake Lucerne. That’s pretty damn refreshing.
And speaking of water, my kitchen is currently filling up with it, and he’s just dropped everything to come to our rescue. That’s some service right there. And, sure, he—or one of his guys—capped the pipe, so it shouldn’t be leaking, and maybe it’s their fault it’s leaking, but he didn’t just tell me how to fix it and hang up. Hell, some people wouldn’t even take the call on a Saturday.
He has integrity.
I saw that the first time he came over. When he wouldn’t just take our deposit and run. And I’ve seen it every day since. The way he treats his workers. The way he treats Harry, Mattie, and Emmett.
The way he treats me.
He’s interesting, all right. I just can’t afford to be interested.
I pull up at the house fifteen minutes later to find the twins, both drenched, talking to Luc in the front yard. Clarence is making figure eights around the twins and Luc, wagging from all the excitement.
Emmett, I notice, is nowhere to be found.
Clarence is there to greet me when I open the driver’s side door. He’s wet too. To prove this fact, he gives a canine full body shake, sharing some of the fun with me.
“Great. Thanks, buddy.” I pat his head and walk toward the three of them in the yard, comparing their expressions. Mattie, no surprise, looks nervous. Harry eyes me warily.
Luc is trying not to smile.
“What?” I demand.
The twins glance at each other. Oh jeez. What now?
“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on? And where’s Emmett?”
Harry and Mattie shift their weight on their feet in identical movements, and as one, they look at Luc.
I sigh and bring my gaze to him. “What?” I repeat.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a white, cylindrical piece of plastic and puts it in my hand.
“What’s this?” I ask, noticing that Mattie is biting the corner of her lip and Harry is clenching and unclenching his right fist.
“That’s a quick-connect end cap,” Luc says, extending a finger to turn the object over in my palm so I can see the open underside and a black rubbery-looking stopper within. “You use it to cover a pipe you want to eventually reconnect again. It saves you from soldering or having to cut pipe later.”
I blink and look back at him. “So did it just pop off?”
Les Dimplesappear in his cheeks, but Luc firms his lips and they hide again. “No,” he says, that voice of his going soft. “These are easy to install and easy to remove. Somebody popped it off.”
My stomach drops. “Emmett.”
His eyes wince, but he nods. “I don’t think hemeantto flood the house,” Luc says, taking the cap from me again. “Apparently, when he disconnected this, the water pressure sent it flying, and it shot into the living room and under the fridge.
