I go to correct him, when Will nods and says, “Yes, I am.”
The rest of the class croon too, and I have to bite back my laugh.
“You’re bigger than my house.”
He nods again, nose scrunched. “I’m bigger than my house.”
This time, I do laugh.
“Hey! That’s my boxing teacher.”
My eyes dart to Dylan, who has shot out of his seat and is waving at Will like a lunatic.
“Dylan, my man.” Will winks at him.
“I brought my boxing gloves for Show and Tell today.”
“Nice!” They bump fists as we walk by.
“Class!” Oliver snaps. “Pay attention.”
“This way.” I motion to the back of the room, a little shocked that Will actually “teaches” boxing.
Will fires Oliver a weird look and murmurs, “What crawled up Colonel Mustard’s arse?”
I burst out laughing then quickly cover my mouth, remembering I’m a professional educator and that his comment is inappropriate.
“We’re interrupting his lesson. It’s hard enough getting the kids’ full attention without a new face in the room.”
“Maybe the kids should learn some basic plumbing.”
“They’re not here to learn basic plumbing.”
His toolbox lands on the ground by his feet with a thud, and I’m surprised by the sound; it didn’t look that heavy when he was carrying it.
“So”—he inspects the broken tap—“run by me what happened, step by step.”
“Well, the faucet has been leaking for a few weeks now—”
“Weeks?”
“Yeah.”
He huffs. “How bad?”
“Not bad, but it was worse this morning.”
“Gushing or dripping?”
My cheeks heat at his words, and I’m almost unable to answer. “Uh… dripping. A lot. Almost a steady stream.”
His eyes lower to my damp chest, so I cross my arms again.
“Then what happened?” he prompts, clearing his throat.
“Oliver. I mean, Mr Bunt—”
“Mr who?”
I bite my lip to stop from smiling.
I fail.
“Bunt… with a B.”
“Right.” Will’s eyes bulge before he blinks. “Mr B-unt did what?”
“He turned on the tap, and it broke off in his hand, and then water flew out like a fire hydrant.”
Will looks over at Oliver then back at me. “Did he get changed already?”
“No. He avoided the spray. I didn’t.”
Will scoffs.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He bends down, and his shorts pull tight against his thighs, which are like tree trunks—stout, solid, defined.
My nipples tingle as they peak under my blouse, and I shiver then press my arms to my chest, my thumbnail finding its way between my chattering teeth. I’m desperate to change clothes, but that involves a trip home, which I can’t do right now.
“Find anything yet?” I ask.
“Did Mr B-unt turn off the shutoff valve?”
“No, Mr Tims did. He also turned off the mains for the building.”
“Mr Tims is a smart man.”
“I know.” I smile.
“Should I be worried?”
“About what?”
“About you and Mr Tims?”
Drawing in a deep breath, I huff it out, letting him know I’ve no patience for his silly game.
“I’m kidding, Elizabeth. You need to lighten up.”
“As you can see, I’ve had a”—I whisper—“shit of a morning. I’m far from feeling light.”
“Fair enough,” he says, scrubbing his hands together. “I’ll need to turn the mains back on for pressure testing.”
“Yes, of course. Whatever you need to do.”
“Anything else happen?”
“No.”
He stands up, unfurling like a giraffe, and I’m almost transfixed.
“Oh, yes, there was also a loud growling noise before the avalanche of water.”
“Growling noise?”
I nod.
“What kind of growling noise?” He leans closer, all serious-like. “What did it sound like?”
“Um… it was like…” I do my best growling grumble noise. “Kinda like that.”
Will throws his head back, his rumble of laughter nearly louder than the pipes. “Good impersonation! I was almost scared.”
I somehow smile and frown at the same time before cottoning on to his childishness, my eyes narrowing, my patience paper-thin.
Forgetting where I am for a second, I punch his arm. “Very funny.”
“Hey!” Dylan shouts. “You can’t punch Master Will.”
Both our heads snap in Dylan’s direction, and it’s then I notice Oliver glaring at us.
“Sorry,” I mouth, raising my hand in apology before facing Will again. “Master Will?”
He flicks his eyebrows. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You wouldn’t be the first woman to say that to me,” he says for the second time in a matter of minutes.
“Ugh! So can you fix it or not?”
“I can fix the tap, no probs, but I need to look into what made it burst in the first place, and for that, I need more tools from my truck.”
“Good.”
“So what’s the damage?” Oliver steps up next to us and offers his hand to Will. “I’m Oliver.”
“Will.”
They shake hands, and Oliver stretches his upon release then cups it with his other hand.
“Do you two know each other?”
Will hugs me to his side. “We go way back.”
I inconspicuously pry myself from his grip. “No, we don’t.”
Oliver’s eyes drop to my blouse, and once again, I’m crossing my arms over my chest. I really need to change clothes.
Another grumbling noise sounds, this one much quieter than the last, and I soon realise it’s not the sink, instead coming from Will.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, eyes narrowed at Oliver.
We watch him leave before Oliver breaks the silence. “So how do you know the plumber?”
“I don’t. Not really.”
“He sure knows you.”
“He’s a friend of Carly’s.”
Oliver scoffs. “Now that I believe.”
Turning to face him, I’m curious to know why their friendship is amusing to him, like it’s somehow less civilised than his friendships. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
He walks toward his desk, so I follow him. “No, tell me what you mean by that. I wanna know.”
“They just seem like they’re cut from the same cloth.”
I shake my head, bemused. “And what cloth would that be?”
Oliver goes to answer when, speaking of cloth, a T-shirt is draped over my shoulder.
“You might want to put that on,” Will says.
He moves to the tap, bends down, and fiddles with something under the sink. I hold the black material out in front of me, a picture of a tap and the slogan Tap That Plumbing printed in green on the front.
“It’s clean,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at me, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t worried about that at all.” I smile, a little shocked at his kindness. “Thank you. This is very thoughtful of you.”
Will glares at Oliver and says, voice low, “You don’t want boys looking at your tits.”
And just like that, his “kindness” dissipates.
Sucking on my tooth, I turn around and address the class. “Grade 3s, start writing your four times tables in your workbooks. Grade 2s, you can write your fives. I’m just going to change my wet top. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I scurry to the office and stop by Carly’s desk, tapping my fingertips on the reception counterto
p. I don’t know how, but Will being here is definitely her doing.
“Yes, Mrs Hunter,” she says, pointing to the telephone receiver she’s holding to her ear. Carly gives me a “Suck shit, I’m busy” grin, so I cock an eyebrow and smile. She can’t avoid me forever; I know where she lives.
Ducking into the staff toilets, I remove my blouse and throw on Will’s T-shirt. It dwarfs me, but it’s dry, warm, and surprisingly soft. Nuzzling the collar, I inhale, a little disappointed to find it smells like brand-new cotton and not him. No matter his caveman appearance and immature persona, nor how many buttons of mine he delights in pushing, I remember him smelling quite pleasant on Friday night when his arms were wrapped around me on the dance floor.
After tucking the hem of the T-shirt into the waistband of my capris so it doesn’t look like I’m wearing some god-awful tunic, I stand under the hand dryer and turn it on, lifting my knees one at a time in an attempt to dry the damp sections on my legs.
“What are you doing?” Carly asks.
I swivel to find her standing at the door. “The can-can, what does it look like?”
Her gaze lands on the T-shirt. “Tap That?” She laughs. “Ha! That’s so Will.”
I don’t get what’s so funny at first until Carly performs a hip-thrusting movement.
“Oh my God! I can’t wear a T-shirt in front of my kids that says Tap That.”
She clutches her midriff. “You don’t have a choice.”
“Do you have any spare clothes I can borrow? Surely you’ve got a blouse or a dress stashed in your desk.”
“Nope.”
I let my head fall back against the wall and look to the ceiling. “How is he even here, Carls?”
“Who? Will?”
“Yes. Who else?”
“Because I called him.” She moves in front of the mirror and adjusts her bra, cupping and rearranging her breasts as if they’ve somehow moved out of position. “While I was giving Derek head, he mentioned Will is a plumber.”
I blink all the blinks. “What?”
“While I was sucking Derek’s cock, he said—”
“Jesus! I heard that part loud and clear.”
She pulls a lipstick out of her pocket and pops the top. “Then why are you confused?”
“Never mind.” I really don’t need to understand how that particular conversation materialised while that particular action was being performed, so I let it go. “So Will’s a local plumber?”
“Yep.” She presses her newly pigmented lips together then places the bullet applicator back into her pocket. “His company holds the contract for the schools in the area.”
“Whyyy?” I drawl, softly headbutting the wall.
“Because he must be good at what he does?” she says, as if my question is a legitimate one.
My eyes meet hers, and she smirks.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Of course I am.”
“It’s as if you somehow arranged it.”
“Maybe I did.” Carly holds her hand out and inspects her nails. “Maybe I came here first thing this morning and broke the tap on purpose.”
I laugh. “You? Get up first thing in the morning? Ha! If I don’t wake you, you’d probably never wake up.”
“True.” She shrugs. “Okay, so I didn’t arrange this. We both know that, which means the universe did.”
“The universe?”
“Yes, the universe wants you and Will to get to know each other.”
“Why?”
“Because he has a penis and you have a vagina.”
“Ugh! I don’t have time for this. I need to go and… teach.”
Stepping around her, I reach for the door, when she clasps my arm and yanks me back. “You can’t go back looking like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like Alice Cooper.” Carly spins me to face the mirror.
“Oh my God! My mascara!” I wipe the black smudged pools under my eyes.
“You just made it worse. You need makeup remover.”
“No shit!” I wipe some more. “It’s not like I have any here at school.”
“I do.”
“What? Why?”
“In case a pipe bursts like a cock and comes all over my face.”
I close my eyes for the smallest of seconds. “How are we even friends?”
“Because you need me.” She pulls a near-empty wet wipes packet from out of her pocket.
“How—?”
“Don’t question my genius. Just do something with that”—Carly lifts her hand toward my face and moves it in a circular motion—“and fix your hair. You look like a Troll Doll.”
I smooth down my frizz. “I do not.”
She purses her lips, eyes wide, and steps backward out of the room to leave me to my devices.
Sighing at my reflection, I agree; I do look like a Troll Doll. But before I can even decipher what the hell I’m going to do to fix it, the door opens once more and Carly pokes her head in, removes the clip from her perfectly styled hairdo, and tosses it to me before blowing me a kiss and leaving.
I smile and gather my hair into a bun.
She’s right; I do need her.
Opening the classroom door, I step into the room, and the children all look up and giggle.
“Your T-shirt looks funny,” Jet says.
Emma scratches her head. “Tap That? What does that mean?”
I plaster on a smile even though I’m annoyed. It’s a crass T-shirt, and I wouldn’t be wearing it if Oliver and Will weren’t idiots.
Stupid men.
Raising my finger to my lips, I make a shush sound then point to Oliver, indicating they should all pay attention to him before I make my way to the back of the room where Will is packing his tools back into his toolbox.
“All done?” I ask, noticing he’s reattached the tap to the sink.
“Not quite.” He glances at my attire and smirks.
I smooth the T-shirt down. “It’s a little big, but… thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And, yes, I will.”
“Will what?”
He gestures toward me. “Tap that.”
A growl emanates in my throat, but I hold it down. “In your dreams.”
“Been there, done that.”
The growl comes out.
He winks. “I have a few more things to check.” Will looks around the room and into the adjoining classroom. “Are there any toilets here?”
“Yes. But they’re for the kids. You can use the toilet in the office building if you like.”
He lowers his voice. “I don’t need to take a piss, Elizabeth. I need to flush out the pipes while the mains are switched off.”
My cheeks heat. “Oh, yes, of course.”
“Could you let everyone in the building know not to use the toilets or taps until I’m done?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” He gestures to the T-shirt once again. “Looks good on you.”
I glance down, my face scrunched, and he walks away.
“Ms Hanson?” Jacey Preston is shuffling on the spot, legs crossed.
I don’t need to ask what she wants, so I just say, “You’ll have to come with me. Our normal toilets are broken.”
Her smile shows more discomfort than relief, so we make our way into the office, and I give her permission to use the toilet adjacent to the sick bay.
“She’s not gonna spew, is she?” Carly asks, glancing over my shoulder. “You can deal with her if she does. I’ve done my quota of kid spew this year.”
“She’s not going to be sick. She’s just using the toilet. Will said not to let anyone use the toilets or taps in our building until he says otherwise. Do you mind making an announcement to that effect, please?”
“Sure. But does that mean I’m gonna be inundated with midgets needing to poop and pee all afternoon?”
“I don’t know, probably.”
Carly pulls the type of face you pull when
you realise you just stepped in dog shit, and I can’t help but internally laugh. She’s not a fan of kids, which begs the question as to why she works in a primary school… with kids. Lots of kids.
I learned long ago not to try to figure out how her mind works though, because some things cannot be solved. Like chickens and eggs, and which of the two came first. Carly is a chicken and an egg.
“Excuse me, students and staff,” she says into the school’s PA system. “The toilets and taps in Blue Building are currently out of order. Please do not use them. Instead, use Yellow Building, the recreation room, or—” She pauses then pouts.“—or the office. Thank you.”
“It won’t be for long,” I say. “I’m sure your friend will have it fixed in no time.”
“Afraid not.”
The sound of Will’s toolbox thudding to the floor at my feet again startles me, and I snap my head in his direction.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve found what appears to be several underground leaks behind the building. I’ll need to bring in the excavator and check all the joins.”
“So you’ll be spending a bit of time here then?” Carly asks, her smile slyer than a Disney villain.
He nods then looks me dead in the eyes. “I’m gonna be here, every day, for the next few weeks.”
What?
Chapter Seven
Carly places my herbal tea on the benchtop as I enter the kitchen. “You’re not wearing that today.”
I look down at my overalls and flannel shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Is it Old McDonald had a Farm Week at school? Did I miss the hillbilly memo?”
She has a point—albeit a rude, insensitive point.
“It is a bit ‘rural.’ I’ll give you that.” I shrug and pick up the mug, cupping it in my hands. “But I like it. It’s comfortable.”
“And there lies your problem.”
“What problem?” I take a sip and scald my tastebuds. “Ffff, that’s hot.”
“No shit! It’s just boiling water with a tiny bag of fucking gross steeped in it.”
“Green tea isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, Carly.” Supercilious fuzzies wave over me, and I smile, a slight wobble to my head. “Ha! See what I did there?”
She deadpans, “Back to your ridiculous outfit. It’s comfortable, which is a bad thing.”
“How is being comfortable a bad thing?”
“Because comfortable equals slob.”
Connection (Temptation Series Standalones Book 2) Page 6