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“Fuck!” Benjamin curses once before jumping into action. While I stand still, shell shocked and useless, he runs into the kitchen. He emerges moments later, dragging an oversized garbage can.
“Lacy, help me!” He cries urgently, as he moves the now overflowing and useless pots and pans out of the way, and moves the garbage can into place to catch the flow of water.
The urgency in his voice calls me out of my stupor and I go to help him.
“Wait here,” he says firmly, before taking off again.
Where the hell is he going?I think to myself dumbly. I’m soaking wet, and the stream of water from above doesn’t show any signs of stopping.
But then it slows down.
Becomes lighter.
Lightens to a light trickle.
And finally stops, becoming just a gentle drip that’s caught by the enormous empty trashcan.
What just happened?
“I turned off the main water valve to the house,” Benjamin says as he reenters the room, breathless and sweaty.
I stare at him in shock and then turn my attention to the living room, eyeing it with horror. The oriental rug is soaked. And one old chair is also so wet, I doubt it can be salvaged. But the important stuff, the old piano and dad’s favorite armchair, are safe and dry. Thanks only to Benjamin’s quick-thinking action.
“I’m sorry, Lace. You were right, I should have called a plumber weeks ago,” Benjamin says, surveying the room alongside me. “I’m afraid I made your clean-up job a bit harder.”
Talk about a freaking understatement.
Chapter Two
Benjamin
ThelookLacyshotme when I admitted that I should have called a plumber was so icy, it’s a miracle I wasn’t frozen in place. Even through the smudged lenses of her glasses, I could see her irritation. But it was also mixed with something else. Desperation? I’m not sure.
“So, you know any plumbers in the area?” I ask, hoping to break the tension.
“I haven’t been out here in years. No clue.”
We’re sprawled on the living room floor, breathless and exhausted after our battle with the burst pipe. A steady drip of water is falling from the ceiling into the nearly full garbage can we’ve maneuvered underneath of it. I’m leaning against a giant bookshelf, while Lacy is propped up against the leg of the baby grand piano, one of the only dry things left in the room.
“Maybe that old goon from Pete’s Plumbing is still around,” I say with a grin.
“There’s no way. He was already 100 back then,” Lacy answers with a giggle. She goes on, serious now, “I remember having to call him when Nanette flushed cigarettes down the toilet.”
“Yup. That’s mom,” I say ruefully, looking down at my hands for a moment. My wild mom and Lacy’s clean-cut dad weren’t exactly a match made in heaven.
“What’s she up to now?” Lacy asks, eyebrows raised.
I try to maintain my focus on her face as I answer. Her oversized t-shirt is soaked through, slightly see-through, and clinging to her body. I gulp at the sexy sight, suddenly wondering what she’d look like with the top off completely. Although her outfit is baggy, now that it’s wet, there’s no concealing the killer curves she’s hiding underneath her clothes.
Chill, dude. She’s your sister.Well, kind of. Stepsister. For six months.Semantics, dude.
“She’s traveling the world on a cruise ship with her latest husband,” I answer with a smile.
“No way! So, she’s moved on from traveling on rock and roll tour buses to traveling on cruise ships? So fitting.”
“I guess so,” I say. I don’t want to dwell on my mother’s antics. I always suspected Elliot moved us all out to Rose Manor hoping she’d chill out and get over her insatiable desire to follow rock stars on the road. Needless to say, Nanette was restless here. It was a failed experiment. But as a kid, I loved the six months we spent here.
Lacy, seemingly sensing my discomfort, clambers to her feet. I glance up at her and then quickly look away again. She could easily win any wet t-shirt contest in Cancun spring break right now.
