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She flipped on the water in the master bathroom shower and shimmied out of her sweaty clothes before stepping into the old bathtub/shower combo. The surrounding tile looked like it was from the ‘40s and the tub was barely large enough for her to sit in. Definitely on the list for remodeling. At least whoever had lived here before had updated the kitchen and brought it into the twenty-first century—beautiful hardwood, creamy granite counters, and a gorgeous glass tile backsplash. Unfortunately the kitchen had been the only room touched by modern convenience. Still, the house had so much charm and not so close to her neighbors that they could see and hear her every move. A little privacy had been exactly what she wanted. And having a few projects on the ToDo list was a small price to pay for silence and solitude.
Laurel pushed the lever to the right and the handle came right off in her hand. A sick feeling crept down her throat and lodged firmly in the pit of her stomach.
“Shit.”
She fumbled in the spray from the shower head, trying to jimmy the handle back into place long enough to turn the water off. Again and again, she tried to force the broken piece of metal into its respective slot, but it wouldn’t cooperate.
“Just let me turn the water off, please. I’ll call a plumber, but just let me turn you off,” she said, begging the plumbing as if it could hear and respond. It couldn’t. She knew that. “Come on.” Laurel struck the hole where the lever had come loose and a new spray of water started from that spot. “No. No. No.”
Water wasn’t supposed to come from that hole. She stood up suddenly, clobbering the back of her head with the shower head above. The thing came crashing down around her, bouncing around on its short hose like it was playing a game of keep away.
She grabbed for it and missed. Her foot slipped and she grabbed the only thing she could—the old shower curtain. It barely slowed her descent to the porcelain below and the entire thing came down, including her. The curtain, the bar, and pieces of sheetrock littered her bathroom floor. She rubbed the back of her head where the curtain rod had connected with a hardthunkand fought back the urge to release a sob. Her backside wasn’t feeling so hot either.
Laurel stood carefully and tried to hook the fixture back into place, only to find that the connector had broken off completely. Not only could she not turn the water off, she couldn’t attach the nozzle to the wall any longer. And unless she stood and held it, the damn thing would spray water all over the bathroom.
She grabbed the two bath towels off the bar on the wall, wrapped one around the shower head and then draped the other over the temperature handles, partially blocking the water spewing from the wall. She grabbed the counter and stepped out onto the soaked bathmat in the center of the floor and took one slow step after another. The old tiles were wet and her toes slid with each and every movement until she reached the safety of the carpeted hallway.
Rounding the corner, she hurried into her room and pulled on a pair of running shorts and a camisole. Then swiped open her cell phone and searched the maps app for a plumber. Nothing was listed as open. It was nearly nine o’clock in a small town and apparently they all went home and went to bed instead of remaining open for customers who actually might need help.
The only person she knew in town was… Mick. Maybe he would at least know how to turn the water off. She knew there was a way, but didn’t have a clue where to start looking. Water dripped from her hair onto the phone screen and she wiped the screen on her sheets before switching to her contacts app and tapping Mick’s name.
Two rings and then his rich smooth bass voice sang into her ear. “Everything, okay, Laurel?”
“I’m really sorry to bother you so late, but I…The water in the bathroom won’t turn off. The handle broke off the wall and now water is spewing everywhere—” A sob escaped without permission. “I can’t find a plumber open to call and—”
“I’ll be right there.” The line went dead and Laurel released another sob. This time of relief. Someone was coming to help. Mick was coming to help. It was going to be okay. He would know how to turn off the water. Then she could call for a plumber in the morning.Breathe, Laurel.She concentrated to control her racing heart and shallow heaves for air.
Her teeth chattered, rattling against each other like wind chimes in a bad storm. She wrapped herself in her big fluffy pink robe and slipped her feet into some matching warm fuzzy slippers before heading downstairs to unlock the front door and turn on the porch light.
Before she got there a heavythunk thunk thunkshook the front door. “Laurel?”
Her eyes widened and she frowned. “Mick,” she said, pulling open the door. “Where were you? How did you get here so fast?”
Mick gazeddown at a sopping wet Laurel wrapped in the most adorable pink robe he’d ever seen. Complete with pink fuzzy slippers. Her eyes were a little reddened around the edges. She’d been crying.
When he’d heard that cry slip out on the phone call his entire body had tightened around his heart until he felt like he might snap in half. Coming to her aid, hadn’t been a choice. It’d been a viseral need. A need to see her. A need to touch her. A need to know she was safe and not upset for any longer than necessary.
God, she was beautiful. Her long black hair smoothed back against her head, like she’d just gotten out of the shower and run to the door. Water ran in rivulets down her cheeks, along her collarbone, and disappeared into the hint of cleavage showing between the collar of her robe.
So many feelings clamored for attention in his mind. The first being how the hell he’d fallen so hard and so fast for this woman.
“Mick?”
He dragged his gaze away from her breasts and tried to focus on what she needed. His help. Not is hungry gaze trying to devour her from head to foot. How was he going to pull off a date with some chick tomorrow night when all he could think about was pulling that fuzzy robe off Laurel so he could explore every inch of her and see if the rest of her body was as wet has her hair.
“Sorry, yes. I live down the street actually. So it was a quick drive.” He sucked in a quick recovery breath and tried to force his face into a wide innocuous smile. “Here to help. I’ve averted more than my fair share of plumbing disasters.”
“Thank you.” She turned and headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time. “It broke off. And everything I did just made it worse.”
He followed behind her, his eyes wandering to her rounded ass hidden beneath the fabric of the robe. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on something else. She wasn’t interested in him or she wouldn’t be setting him up with someone else. She was a professional matchmaker, if she didn’t know about attraction and chemistry between two people, then how had she created such a great business back in Dallas?
Surely she wouldn’t deny herself a chance, just to avoid him…or would she? She’d said her divorce was recent. Maybe it was too soon? His timing usually was the worst on the planet when it came to women.
He followed her through the master bedroom, past the bed he’d helped put together. Other than the bed, the room was still bare. It didn’t even feel lived in.
“I wrapped a towel around the shower head, but that didn’t help the spray from the wall.”
“Isn’t the curtain keeping it inside—” He stopped just inside the door of the master bathroom slash pond. Puddles were starting to join together into one large mass in the center. The shower head was spraying a now very wet section of sheetrock and more water was spewing from the wall where her temperature lever had come loose. The shower curtain, along with the bar had been wrenched from its fasteners and lay askew, halfway in the bathtub and half in the floor.
