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Tracy followed him until she got to the puddle spreading out from the bathroom that had previously been shared between the third and fourth bedrooms. The plan was to turn those two bedrooms into a full suite with a sleeping area, a living space, and a private bath that could accommodate a walker or even a wheelchair if her father ever came to need one.
“Dad?” she called out, the water extending past her toes and further down the hall. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he barked back. “Watch out for the water.”
“Umm, yeah, I see it.” She was going to get wet sooner or later, so she splashed forward until she was at the door of the bathroom, peeking in under Cutter’s arm. “Hey, I brought someone who can help.”
Her father rose stiffly from where he had his head under the sink and took in the man at her side. She refused to be nervous as she performed the introductions. “Dad, this is Cutter. He works at Tower Construction and came along to give us a hand.”
Cutter stood tall and proud, and reached out with his left hand. “Sergeant Michael Cutter, sir. Army EOD.”
Her father straightened even further and studied him with a fierceness that had made strong men shake in their boots. Cutter returned her father’s gaze calmly and respectfully, and after a few long moments, her father returned the gesture with his own left hand.
“Cutter, this is my father, retired Army Colonel Bob Navarro.”
“EOD, you say? What company?”
“18th, out of Fort Bragg, sir.”
Dad nodded, acknowledging Cutter’s service and sacrifice, then turned to the watery hellscape that used to be a bathroom. “You’re too late, Cutter. Looks like a bomb already went off in here.”
“I wouldn’t say that, sir,” replied Cutter before pausing a beat. “At least not out loud.”
Her dad cracked a laugh and a weight lifted from Tracy’s shoulders. He’d never laughed that way with her ex, Eric, and it felt as if some threshold had been passed.
They got the water turned off and were able to soak up most of it with nearly every towel she owned, although she drew the line when her dad reached for the set of thick Turkish cotton ones she’d splurged on only a few months ago.
“Not my good, cream colored ones.” Tracy blocked his hand just in time.
“They’re just towels,” he said.
“No, they’re mygoodtowels. You know there’s a difference. Remember Mom’s mint green ones with the stripe?”
He grumbled, but subsided. “I sure do. She gave me eight kinds of hell when I tried to wipe my hands on ‘em after fixing the car.”
“Well if you try to put my good towels on the floor, you’ll get a repeat.”
Father and daughter glared at each other briefly before they both smiled sadly. The grief had softened, but she could only imagine how much her father missed Mom. They’d been soulmates, their love an almost tangible presence whenever they were together.
It was the kind of love she’d always wanted with a partner who would support her as much as she did for him. Someone who saw the worth in building a home and a family. Someone who was strong enough to take the lead where it was needed. And, she admitted to herself, someone who gave her the freedom to let go of herself in the bedroom, taking the power she so wanted to give.
“I sure do miss those towels.” Her dad’s voice jerked her back into focus.
“I’ve still got them,” she admitted with a smile. “I saved them for you. I’ll put them in your bathroom as soon as it’s ready.”
She pressed her lips to his cheek and tried not to think about how weathered it had become. He gripped her arm affectionately and nodded.
They returned to find Cutter sitting on his haunches in front of the cabinet, the previously mentioned goatfucking wrench in his hand. The position highlighted the powerful muscles of his thighs and… she tilted her head to get a better angle.
A truly spectacular ass.
She blinked and realized that though Cutter hadn’t noticed her uncharacteristic ogling of his behind, her father, of all people, was smirking at her.
Awesome.
Tracy very deliberately ignored him and pretended to understand as they said plumbing words to each other. Hey, she could take apart and clean a temperamental Italian espresso machine that looked like it came out of a steampunk comic book, but plumbing was not her area of strength.
They spoke while she gathered up a pile of sodden towels and took them to the laundry room. As she shoved them into the machine, she realized she was humming.
