“I know, Kins, but you gotta come up for air sometime. Running yourself ragged isn’t going to do you or your business any good. As your friend, I insist you come with me to this launch party thing on Friday night. My firm helped a new company find their office and they are having some big to-do to celebrate. Rumor is they got some pretty big investors, so it’s going to be over the top. Either way, it’s free drinks, not to mention the chance to get all dressed up with my best girl, who, by the way, desperately needs to get out more.”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.” I feel bad for being so out of touch lately, and I guess I could use a night of fun. “Pick me up at seven?”
“You got it, babe. See you then.”
“Shit. Ouch. Damn.”
Ugh, why does this have to be so difficult?
It’s been two days since Eli stopped by and I’m laying on my back with my head under the sink trying to figure out how in the hell to fix it. It seems to be clogged and I really don’t want to have to bother his poor son with my silly problem. But considering I don’t have the first clue about what plumbing part does what, I opt to give in.
I push myself up and move across the hall to rifle around on my desk for the piece of paper with Lucas’ number on it. I grab my cell phone and dial the digits.
“Hey, you’ve reached Lucas Graham. I can’t get to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
The sexiness of this man’s deep, rich voice is enough to distract me from why I had to call in the first place. Thankfully the loud beep on the other end snaps me out of my trance.
“Hey, Lucas. This is Kinsley Moore. I recently signed the lease for the cottage on East Sweet Street. Your dad said to call you if I had any problems and while it’s not a big deal, the sink is clogged. If you could give me a call when you get a chance that would be great. Thanks.” I recite my phone number and hang up.
I return to the kitchen and stare at my phone as if he will actually call me right back. Hello, I’m sure he has a life. And a job. Of course he has a job! He probably won’t be able to get back to me until tonight, if then. Not sure what else to do, I stick my head back under the sink to take one last peek. It’s then I get the brilliant idea to look online for some videos on how to unclog a drain.
And that is when all hell starts to break loose.
The video makes it look so easy—grab a wrench, unscrew the little pipe thingy, and make sure there is nothing stuck in there. Easy peasy, right?
Wrong.
When I grab my wrench and begin to do what the man in the video does, the next thing I know water is shooting out.
Everywhere.
Startled, I try to stop it but drop the wrench in the process. The spray is so bad I can’t see where it fell, so I look around for a bucket or something to catch the water. All I see are vases full of arrangements I finished up the day before—it only took me three hours to get them perfect.
Screw it, this is an emergency!
I leap up, grab a handful of flowers to yank them out of their vase, throw them behind my head, and thrust the container at the continuously spraying stream. I do this over and over until six vases are emptied of their contents, yet the water keeps on coming. Desperate and frantic, I grab my phone and dial the most recent number.
“Hey, you’ve reached Lucas Graham. I can’t get to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Hey, this is Kinsley again. Sorry to call again but the problem with the sink seems to have gotten worse. Water is spraying everywhere and I can’t make it stop . . . I’m sure you’re at work so I guess I can try to call a plumber. I wanted to let you know since I already left you that other message. OK great thanks bye.”
Hang up the phone, idiot.
Ugh. Apparently a high stress situation makes me word vomit all over the place. Poor Lucas. I’m sure he thinks his dad’s new tenant is a complete crazy lady. Unfortunately, there’s no time to dwell on that right now.
I dive to my knees again and scramble to locate the wrench I dropped. I finally find it and try again to tighten back up whatever I apparently untightened. By an act of God, it actually stops.
Soaked and panting I look around to assess the damage: Sopping jeans? Check. Destroyed kitchen? Check. Hours of work and inventory lost? Check.
Fucking YouTube.
After what must be fifteen minutes of just sitting here contemplating what to do next, I stand up and can barely move. My tank top and jeans are so wet they’re practically a second skin. Not wanting to drip water any further than it has already gone—and needing the freedom to actually bend my legs—I decide to strip off my pants here. Then I can dart upstairs to change before finding the number for a plumber. I face the sink, my back to the half closed door, and shimmy my way out of the soaked garment. I step out of the soggy bundle of denim and reach down to pick it up.
And that’s when I hear it . . . the sexy, deep voice I can’t help but recognize.
“Nice stems.”
Lucas
Bzz. Bzzzz.
Damn, that’s the second call from the same number. I look down at the flashing screen on my vibrating phone, which indicates I have two new messages. I’m sitting in my home office trying to get some work done without any distractions, but this might be important. I pick up the phone and hit the play button to listen to the voicemails.
The first is from a confident-sounding woman named Kinsley. I remember my dad telling me about his new tenant. “Make sure you take good care of her, Luc. I don’t think she has many people around but she’s smart and very talented. I can tell she’s use to being independent, but she really doesn’t know much about fixing up a place. Bless her heart for trying, though. I want to make sure she feels comfortable in the new place—after all you know how special it is to us.”
Yeah, I knew. When he told me he wanted to rent out the cottage I wasn’t sure how to feel. We kept it empty on purpose for the past fifteen years, only stopping by occasionally to make sure it was in decent shape. There were always offers to buy or rent, but until this woman, Kinsley Moore, came into the picture, dad never seemed interested. I figured he thought it was time to move on or make some extra cash and I didn’t want to ask questions.
Just as the first message ends and I’m thinking about how soft and gentle her voice is and how sexy my name sounds on her lips (really, dude?), the second one starts and she is obviously freaked out. While it’s difficult to hear over the sound of rushing water, her message basically comes out as one long sentence said in a single breath and I hear lots of noise in the background. She sounds different from her first message—the strong, confident woman replaced with a scared and defeated one. I can tell she’s trying to remain calm, but the anxiety in her voice gives her away. I instinctively feel some primal need to rescue her.
The cottage is right around the corner from my apartment and, not wanting to waste time by trying to call back, I jog to the door, grab my keys from the counter and my favorite leather jacket from its hook, and head out to the elevator.
A few minutes later I pull my white BMW Gran Coupe into the dirt drive on East Sweet Street and cut the ignition. I hop out and make my way to the front door. I try knocking, but when she doesn’t answer I realize she probably can’t hear it. I try the handle, finding it unlocked, so I push my way inside. Finding Kinsley and making sure she is OK is the only thought on my mind. The place is pretty quiet as I head toward the back.
The door to the entryway of the kitchen is half open and I can already see a bunch of bent and broken flowers littering the floor. I crouch down to pick one up as I push open the door fully with my left hand.
And that is when my breath catches in my fucking throat.
Standing before me is the most beautiful little body I’ve ever seen. Her back is to me so I can’t even see her face, but her smooth, creamy legs are slowly revealed as she sticks her ass out and pushes her soaked pants do
wn them. Her long, wavy brown hair falls around her shoulders and is damp as if she’s just gotten out of the shower.
I grip the already battered flower in my right hand and rake my eyes one more time from her heels up her calves and thighs to the perfect curve of her ass covered in a sexy as hell pair of pink lace panties. I try to think of something to say and end up blurting out, “Nice stems.”
Smooth, Lucas. Real smooth.
The woman in front of me is just starting to pick up the recently removed piece of clothing when she freezes. Shit, I’ve made her uncomfortable, obviously. Nice one, bro. Quick, say something to make this a little less embarrassing.
“Already soaked for me I see. And to think we only just met.”
Douchebag.
It’s then that she slowly turns toward me, holds the wet jeans out and shrugs.
“Yeah, except you took so long I had to finish without you.”
And as I look up at her and recognize her gorgeous face, with stormy blue eyes and full lips that curve up into a tempting, flirty smile, I know instantly I am in trouble.
Big, big trouble.
Kinsley
As I grab my pants off the floor I know I have a decision to make. I can let my mortification get the best of me and try to disappear right into this very spot, or I can take charge of the situation and laugh it off.
“Yeah, except you took so long I had to finish without you.”
Clearly I choose the latter.
As I turn around with as much confidence as I can muster, I draw in a sharp breath. It’s him. The guy I noticed at the wedding. Since I haven’t been able to get his face out of my mind for the past two weeks, I’d recognize it anywhere.
He’s even more gorgeous up close, and the look on his face is a mixture of what seems like amusement and . . . lust? Nah, I’m sure he’s just trying not to laugh.
After a beat, he collects himself enough to respond.
“Touché. Kinsley, right? I’m Lucas. I got your messages and came right over, but it looks like you may have things under control?”
He cocks his eyebrow and looks around as he says that last part.
“Well, I got it off, but I don’t think it will last.” I, too, glance around and gesture to the mess around me. God, why is everything sounding so dirty right now? I quickly realize I’m also still standing here in a wet tank top without any pants on, and move my hands holding the soaked jeans in front of my crotch.
As if he hasn’t already seen too much . . .
At least I’m wearing cute underwear. Silver lining and all that.
He doesn’t take his eyes from me as he relaxes against the doorframe. “Since I’m here, is there anything else I can help you with?” If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he meant that statement to have an altogether different implication. Considering he hasn’t run from the room screaming and shielding his eyes at least boosts my confidence some. Maybe he doesn’t mind what he sees?
Or he sees half naked women all the time, and I’m nothing special.
Damn it, confidence deflated.
Suck it up, Kins. If you play this off as no big deal, maybe it won’t be one.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to run upstairs and get changed.” I wait for him to take that as his cue to leave.
Without taking his eyes off me, he replies with an easy, “Sure, I’ll just take a look under the sink while you do that.”
I coolly make my way to the door but turn back to warn, “You might want to be careful—it doesn’t like to play nice.”
“Thanks for the tip. I’ll be careful.” He flashes another panty dropping grin.
Well, my pants are already off. Might as well really embarrass myself and bare it all.
Thankfully, I pull it together, manage to keep the rest of my clothes on, and force what I hope comes off as an easy-going grin. I quickly shimmy past him and jump across the hall to the stairway.
When I get upstairs, I replace my wet tank top with a sweater and throw on a pair of curve-hugging jeans. I run my fingers through my hair and can only imagine how awful I look. What an awesome way to make a first impression. I can see him telling this story to a bunch of friends as they laugh so hard their stomachs hurt.
I take a deep breath and try to regain some composure before heading back downstairs. When I get to the kitchen, I see Lucas laying on a towel with his head under the sink. Now that I’m fully clothed and have a second to gather my wits, I have the chance to really look at him.
He’s tall. Like, really tall. But then again, at only five-two just about anybody seems tall to me. I’d say he’s definitely north of six feet, maybe six-two. He’s wearing brown boots and the most flattering pair of jeans that are doing all sorts of amazing things for his lower half. He has a on a white t-shirt that hugs him perfectly with a brown and tan flannel button up tied around his waist. He was previously wearing a worn leather jacket, which I now see tossed up on the counter.
As if he can sense me practically undressing him with my eyes, he leans up on his elbow from under the sink, giving me a chance to look at his oh so gorgeous face. Short, messy brown hair, square jaw covered in the sexiest bit of stubble, and the most intense hazel eyes.
“I think I’ve got this fixed for you, at least for now. I’ll call a professional to come and make sure everything else is fine though, just in case.” The look of concern in his eyes warms me. I seem to get the same warm feelings around Lucas that I do around his dad. Safety. Comfort. Damn, those are some good family genes.
Then again, I feel quite a few other things that are nowhere close to what I feel around his dad.
“Thanks. I really hope I didn’t ruin anything.” I don’t want him to think I don’t care for this place.
He chuckles and runs his hand through his hair in an impossibly sexy gesture. “Well, I wouldn’t go quitting your day job to become a plumber or anything, but no major harm done. Next time you might want to try shutting the water off before you decide to go messing with pipes though.”
I smile back. “Ah . . . right. I guess I forgot that part. My bad.” I fidget with my hands. Lucas has got me feeling all sorts of anxious, from my unintended little peep show and our playful, dirty banter, to the intense look he keeps giving me that I can’t quite read. I’m usually much more composed, so I’ll chalk my anxiety up to the adrenaline boost resulting from the recent excitement.
“No worries,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up your first call. I’m impressed you took matters into your own hands and at least tried to fix it yourself. Most girls I know wouldn’t even touch a wrench, let alone try to use one.” He shifts his weight to lift himself up from the floor, placing the wrench on top of the counter.
I blush at his compliment. “I like to be able to take care of myself. I hated to have to call and bother you, but I also promised Eli that I would let him know if anything was wrong here. Since he is away and gave me your number, I wanted to let you know about the drain. I realized too late that you were probably at work or something. Speaking of, were you at work? I really don’t want to be any trouble.”
“I’m glad you called. This place means a lot to my dad . . . and to me. So don’t worry about bothering me. And let’s just say my boss is pretty cool and won’t mind me stepping out for a bit.”
“Well, thanks. I appreciate it. And I promise to be more careful. I’ll clean this mess up and let you get back to work.” I start picking up some of the mutilated flowers strewn across the floor. I start gathering them up when I notice Lucas is doing the same. “You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugs. “No big deal. It will go a lot faster with the two of us. Plus my dad would kick my ass if he knew I left his new favorite tenant to deal with this all on her own.” He winks and I just about choke on my own tongue.
I avert my eyes from his gaze and try to focus on cleaning up. “Your dad?” I ask incredulously. “He doesn’t seem like he could hurt a fly.”
“He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hi
s son, however? He won’t hesitate to put me in my place.”
“Sounds like you speak from lots of experience,” I say with an accusing tilt of my head.
“Unfortunately, yes. I can be quite a handful. My old man is always there to remind me to get my shit together when I fuck up. He’ll point out what I did wrong one minute, and help me fix it the next.”
The look of pure respect shows plainly on his face. “Sounds like you guys are close.”
I think back to hearing Eli mention how he talks to his son every day. Hot and loyal? Sweet lord, this man has perfection written all over him. In theory, that is . . . I’m sure he still has a few less than desirable qualities. Everyone does.
He continues, “Yeah, pretty much. It’s just been me and him for a while now so we look out for one another.” He shrugs as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and goes back to picking up some of the flowers.
“That’s really cool that you have each other.” I pause, thinking about how nice it must be to have a close-knit family . . . to know there is always someone there to look out for you.
“What about you? Are you close with your folks?” He gets up to dump two handfuls of flowers in the trash and reaches out for the ones I’m holding. I think back to when I was younger and how my dad would never let me ride my bike without a helmet, even though all the “cool” kids didn’t have to. He would tell me it was because he wanted to protect me and didn’t want anything to ever hurt me. I trusted him, so I wore it, even though I got made fun of. I silently scoff to myself. Yeah, but you didn’t exactly protect me from your own lies, did you?
I shake my head. “Um no, well, yeah. I mean I was. Sort of. My parents died in a car accident about five years ago so now it’s just me.”
I try to avoid talking about this. Not only do I not like to think about it, but I hate to make other people feel uncomfortable. An awkward silence usually follows with mumblings of how sorry they are. I know it always comes from a good place, but I don’t like when people feel they have to say something cliche. I also know it’s best to leave out all of the other details of what happened, because that’s just a whole other shade of complicated.
Crazy Beautiful (Crazy Beautiful #1) Page 3