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I’m tripped up by the thought of what Oakley might look like in the night. I don’t know what she wears to bed. I’ll never know. But that doesn’t mean I’m immune to any mind wanderings of the possibilities.
I go to bed, filled up with thoughts of her, causing me to drift off and wake up, over and over again. Hours later, I’m up, because the gallon of water I drank—per Oakley’s orders—has come aknockin’.
I step into the kitchen and my foot slips on something wet. “Jerry!” I say, managing to keep from yelling too loudly. But how did we miss the puddle he left on the floor? I feel like we’ve been perfect dog parents.
I manage to step carefully to the light switch and instead of a small puddle courtesy of Jerry, I see a rippling pool of clean water across the rest of the kitchen floor.
Choice words escape my mouth. Flooding? I rake a hand through my hair, take a gulp of air, and step into the still shallow but rapidly growing pool. It’s cold and moving. I can’t tell where it’s coming from, but it’s already getting on the living room carpet.
I step through the water to look at the pipes under the sink and when I don’t see anything amiss, I backtrack to the bathroom. Nothing out of place that I can tell. I run to my bedroom, grab my phone, and call the first person I think of: Sebastian.
Sebastian’s “Hello?” is monotone, bored even.
“How do you sound wide awake?” I glance at the clock, one a.m. I remind myself to whisper since Oakley is in an open loft above me.
There’s a long pause and then we both start to talk at the same time. “Doesn’t matter,” I say at the same time as his “Is there a reason you’re calling me right now?”
We sort out our words, mine coming out in a rush that probably doesn’t make sense. I can see the shimmers of ripples hitting the legs of my sofa. Things are getting real over here. “Dude, the Red Sea has unparted all over my kitchen and living room.”
“Flooding?”
When I grunt in the affirmative, he goes on. “Turn off your water main and call a cleaning and restoration company.” The line goes dead.
Thanks. Thanks a lot, Sebastian. Do I call Oliver?
And where in tarnation do I turn off my water main? I seem to remember seeing a valve in the garage, so that’s where I head. When I open the door, water flows down and into the garage. Hurrying down the steps, I flip on the light. I locate the valve and turn it ninety degrees. Hope that’s good.
I’m back inside when I notice Sebastian’s texted me the contact info for the company we used when there was a fire in the resort.
I get through to someone at A-Plus Restoration and Cleaning and they tell me they’ll be here within the hour. We’ll see. I didn’t think the area of Longdale would have this kind of service at the ready.
I return to my bedroom, tread on the sopping carpet, and jam my feet in some work boots that Sebastian made me get when the resort was still a construction zone. They’re probably not very waterproof, but they’re the best option I have.
I step carefully into the great room, relieved that the water doesn’t seem to be rising and is still hitting me at about the same spot: just below my ankles. And at least it’s clean, clear water.
“Alec?” Oakley says in a sleepy voice above me. She’s leaning on the railing, Jerry in her arms, their eyes sleepy slits.
“What woke you?” I ask. “Me flipping on the kitchen light in the middle of the night or the Nile River making its appearance down here?” I motion with my hands.
Her vision narrows in on the floor and she yelps. She clutches Jerry tighter to her chest as he takes a gigantic yawn. “Whoa! What happened?” She slides the Metallica t-shirt back up to cover her shoulder. “I’ll put Jerry in his crate,” she says before disappearing into the room.
“Some sort of leak,” I mutter, even though I know she can’t hear me. Duh. Of course there’s some sort of leak happening. I can’t just stand here and watch this any longer, although hopefully I was successful in turning off the water main. I head back out to the garage and come back with a stiff-bristled push broom.
“It’s so cold!” Oakley is standing at the bottom of the stairs wearing the sexy t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama shorts with ice cream cones on them. A perfect blend of edgy and adorable. She’s standing in water up her ankles, and her eyes are wide taking in the scene at her feet.
She looks back at me. “Alec!” She gives a half laugh, her sleep-soaked face starting to come alive.
I can’t stare at her. My whole house is under threat here. If I don’t hurry and get this water out, I’m going to end up with a lot of damage. I slosh through the water, my boots making eddies around me. The carpet in the living room is darker under water, and there are squiggly swirls in even patterns in the carpet. The whole sight is so wrong I chuckle under my breath.
I hear Oakley behind me, the water sloshing as she steps.
“Is the dog okay?” I ask, opening the front door. The water whooshes out and when it slows, I begin pushing more out with the broom. It surges across the cement porch and down the steps to the dirt below.
“Of course he is,” she says, her voice matching my own tension.
I take a couple of steps back from the open door, my feet splashing. I toss a glance at her, but stop myself from staring. This is an emergency. I can’t get waylaid by the sight of a gorgeous woman, her legs wet from the unholy water, tying her hair on top of her head in a quick ponytail.
I look back once more. Her ponytail is lopsided and for some reason, that’s sexy, and now I can see her neck and throat and the way she swallows down her alarm at this crazy situation.
