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I step backward some more, instinctively worried about protecting the manicotti from the water. Unlike me, Emery isn’t frozen at all, and he leaps into action. He rushes to the sink, takes one look at it as the water soaks him, and then drops to his knees to open the cabinet underneath it. He flips a switch, and the water stops almost immediately.
The kitchen is soaked, and he slowly nods his head as he looks around. God, I thought I’d shown Emery every train wreck situation possible in the past ten days, but I’ve outdone myself this time.
“Well, the night just got a lot more interesting,” he says with the same grin he’s had all night. The real one. Why isn’t he angry?
“I’m sorry, Emery. I can’t believe I did that.”
“The only thing I’m sorry about is that you aren’t wearing white,” he says. I look down at my dress which is soaking. If it’d been white, he’d have seen everything I was wearing underneath. Strangely enough, the thought of that is more exciting than it is embarrassing.
Then he unbuttons his shirt. “I guess I’ll fix the pipe while we wait for the manicotti to cook.”
I gawk at him as he pulls the soaking shirt off and tosses it across the room like it’s no big deal to strip in front of me. God, if I thought his biceps were sexy, this is even worse. His entire upper body is covered in thick muscles.
“Your turn,” he says with a smirk.
“I don’t think so. I’m perfectly happy in a soaking dress. Thank you very much.”
He chuckles and starts walking out of the room. “You can’t blame a guy for trying. Anyway, I’ll get the stuff to fix the sink while you put the food in the oven for thirty-five minutes.”
I have to shake out of my stupor. The last thing I want is to have my jaw lying on the floor when he gets back. I slide the tray of manicotti into the preheated oven and set the timer for thirty-five minutes. Then I sit down at the island and wait for Emery to come back.
Which brings up a more important question. Where did a billionaire learn to fix broken sinks? Sure, knowing about the shut-off valve under the sink is normal, but what kind of man can run one of the most profitable advertising firms in the country while still understanding handyman things like this?
Once again, I feel like I’m slowly peeling the layers back to the real Emery Brooks. The man that everyone knows is so different from the one I’m slowly getting to know.
They’re both flirts and obviously love women, but the one I’m getting to know has so much more depth to him. He’s not this cardboard cutout of a playboy billionaire.
I think I’m falling in lust with him.
When he comes back into the room, he’s carrying a leather tool bag. Without looking at me, he says, “I should probably explain why I took my shirt off. The stuff I need to use to fix the pipe will ruin any clothing it touches.”
“You don’t see me complaining,” I say, and this time, it’s me who’s smirking.
He glances at me as he digs under the sink for a few seconds. “Well, it’s not usually something I do on first dates.”
I don’t bring up anything about his many first dates. Instead, I ask the question I’d wondered about. “Where’d you learn to be a plumber? That’s not where you got those big biceps, is it?”
Emery chuckles as he puts his head under the sink. “My dad’s a plumber. He started teaching me when I turned twelve, and I was his official helper during every summer from that point on. He wanted to make sure I never struggled with money, so by the time I was eighteen, I knew how to do nearly everything a plumber does.”
That’s not what I’d expected at all. “But you turned that path down?”
He pulls his head out from under the sink and looks at me with an almost scary intensity in those deep green eyes. “That’s when I decided I was never going to be poor. It’s when I decided that my life was going to be different from my father’s. Do you know how much a plumber works? They make decent money, but they work so much, and his back and knees ache all the time. I swore to myself that I’d do anything not to live that life.”
He goes back to working on the sink, and I’m silent as I let his words bounce around in my head. He was supposed to be a plumber? The genius advertiser? The owner of a multi-billion-dollar company? He was supposed to be installing toilets?
“So, you started a company because you wanted to do less work?” I finally ask.
He stands up, and there’s grease on his hands from whatever he was doing. “I don’t mind working, and I don’t mind doing plumbing. But I wanted more from life. I don’t want limits on what I can do. My dad spent at least twenty years in the same fifty-mile radius, and I couldn’t accept that. I can’t stand the thought of being chained down.”
He gives me a smile as he cuts the top of the pipe with a weird looking tool. “You’ll understand when we go to Barcelona. It happens to everyone on their first real adventure. I knew my life wouldn’t be complete without freedom when I was seven years old.”
“Was your dad upset when you went off and did your own thing?” I ask. It reminds me of when I finally stopped doing pageants. My mom was heartbroken even though she should have seen it coming.
Emery shakes his head. “No. I think he misses me, and I don’t get to go home nearly as often as I’d like, but he knew I wasn’t going to be a plumber. I have to thank him for having me as his helper, though. The money I made helping him was what paid for my college. And it taught me the same lesson I’ve lived by for so long. Always be prepared for unexpected events.”
“Your dad taught you to wear sexy underwear?” I ask with a grin. Everything he says seems so at odds with the façade he shows the world, but it all makes sense. All it does is make me wonder how much more is hidden under the masks. How many more secrets are there hidden behind the liar’s smile?
“Basically. Though, I’m positive that he doesn’t wear sexy underwear. The term ‘plumber’s crack’ has its roots in reality, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget what my dad’s underwear looks like.”
