Overflow: The Carpino Series

by Asher, Brynne

  She flings open the door without even a glance at the sidelight, which pisses me off, and she’s standing there in the wide open doorway looking like a college girl in a tiny blue Creighton t-shirt tight across her chest and cut off jean shorts with her long legs that look so good they should be illegal. She’s barefoot, her hair is pulled into a mess at the back of her head and her makeup free face is wearing a shocked as shit look staring up at me. Her hair and blue eyes are freaking gorgeous against her olive skin tone and I find myself staring at her pink lips, full and slightly parted with her surprised look. As I stand here wondering what those lips would feel like on different parts of my body, I finally snap out of it as her yappin’ dog starts attacking my ankles and whining for attention, which I ignore. I look back up to her eyes and wait for her to say something.

  “Miss Carpino?” I start, as she still hasn’t uttered a word.

  She finally gives her head a small shake and then says on a breath, “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to speak to you about yesterday, can I come in?” I return.

  “Yesterday?” she asks like it was ten fucking years ago and she can’t remember what I’m talking about. Now I’m beginning to lose my patience.

  “Yes,” I bite back and start to spell it out for her. “Yesterday. At Trevor Harper’s house.”

  “Um,” she looks to the side and then back at me tilting her head to the side, “this isn’t really a good time. Can I call you, maybe make an appointment? Tony can come with me. I’m really busy right now, I have a little bit of a situation I’m trying to deal with.”

  I’m not a patient person by nature, but shit, this woman is seriously trying me and the damn dog at my feet still wants my attention. I cross my arms across my chest and say, “You find yourself in a lot of situations, don’t you?”

  Affronted, she pulls her frame up to full height and throws her attitude at me this time, saying, “No, for your information, I do not find myself in a lot of situations! If you are dead set on interrogating me on my front porch, one of my hot water heaters burst and I have water all over my basement. Water tends to be destructive, quickly I might add and I’m trying to move things around as best I can before someone gets here to help me. So although my latest situation doesn’t deal with law enforcement, big men dressed in black with federal search warrants, it does require all of my attention, now. So if you’ll give me your card please, I’ll call you and we’ll set up a time.”

  I stand here a beat, my arms crossed watching her throw her attitude at me. Glaring down at her, I say, “You should look out your window before opening your door, you never know who or what kind of threat it could be.”

  “Excuse me?” she responds, confused by my demand.

  Now shocking myself, I answer with a question as I push through the door, “Where’s your basement?” The dog following me, Gabrielle moves out of my way instinctively as I walk into her house. Still standing there with the door in her hand staring at me, I repeat, “Gabrielle, basement?”

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice climbing higher.

  “I’m helping you move your stuff.”

  “You’re not helping me move my stuff!”

  “Yes I am.”

  “No!” she repeats. “I’ve made some calls and am expecting help soon. You can just leave.”

  “Gabrielle, no offense, but you’re a slip of a woman. I doubt you can move shit by yourself. I’m here, I’m helping.” Getting tired of the banter and still wondering why in the hell I’ve just offered to help move furniture, I search for the way to the basement. Looking to the right, I see stairs and make my way around Gabrielle to the staircase. She’s still hasn’t moved and is staring at me, so I grin, wink at her and ask, “You comin’? I hear water has a way of being destructive, quick like.”

  She finally snaps out of her trance and shuts the door as I head down the stairs, the dog still on my heels. I hear her following me so I yell back up at her, “Lock the door, Gabrielle!” Her advancing stops, I hear her stomp back up the stairs.

  When she finally makes it back down to the soggy basement, I look over at her and she quietly says, “Gabby.”

  Looking at her, confused, I ask, “What?”

  “Gabby, everyone calls me Gabby,” she responds softly.

  I take her in, standing there on soggy carpet in her huge ass basement. “Okay, Gabby. Where in the hell do we start?”

  *****

  Jude has been in my house for the past two hours making me nervous as hell and I’m so tired from not sleeping well last night after my crazy day yesterday. The combination of the two is making me a wreck. When I came down this morning to get some work done in my basement office that I run my business out of and I stepped off the bottom stair into water, I thought I was going to throw up. I’m really not a good homeowner. I keep telling everyone, myself included, that I’m going to put the house on the market once I get it all updated so I can get top dollar. My entire family just gives me that look they have perfected over the last few years that is a combination of love and sorrow, saying something like, “Whatever you want, Gabby. No hurry, it’s not going anywhere.”

  I’m figuring out this house stuff a little at a time. It took me a whole summer to learn how to take care of the yard with the fertilizing, winterizing, how much to water and that’s with paying the neighbor boy to mow for me! Maintaining furnaces, air conditioners, filters, fixing small things when they break or go screwy has been a learning process to say the least. And now I can add hot water heaters to my list. Did I fail my hot water heater in some way or did it just kick the bucket on its own and decide to flood my basement? I don’t know, but my head is starting to hurt from the lack of caffeine, as my latest debacle started when I was brewing the first pot of coffee.

  Jude showing up on my door step this morning was a miracle and a tragedy. Seeing him outside my front door made my heart skip a beat and I was at a loss for words. He looked better than I remembered him, in a faded red t-shirt and jeans that fit too well. His legs, thick and defined through his jeans, made him seem even bigger and more powerful than the day before in his police outfit. I still don’t think he has shaved and his hair is yet again messy on top, which makes me wonder if this is his normal do instead of helmet hair. Either way, the messy look works for him in a big way and I find myself wanting to run my fingers through it. But as much as I have enjoyed getting glimpses of Jude lifting, bending and stretching in my basement to move my furniture around, I cannot believe he is here because I. Look. Like. Hell! I went to bed with my hair wet which is always a scary site the next morning, I have no makeup on, not to mention the dark circles under my eyes from tossing and turning all night.

  Tony got here about thirty minutes after Jude. I called Tony before Jude showed up and he was at the gym playing basketball. So two days in a row I’ve screwed up Tony’s day to have to come to my rescue. Shortly after Tony arrived, the first restoration company that popped up on Google showed up with fans and other whatnots to start drying out my basement. I’ve hardly said a word to Jude since Tony got here.

  Now the two of them are standing amongst the hellacious mess that is now my basement, heads tipped down and talking quietly with the restoration crew working around them. Not having the energy to think about what they’re talking about, I go to my office with Mia faithfully behind me. My office was thankfully spared from water since the mechanical room was on the other side of the basement and the water hadn’t made its way in here yet. As Mia turns circles in her dog bed I keep in here for her to sleep on as I work, I wake up my computer to print off the invoice I came down for originally this morning and need to get in the mail today. I look around thinking that I am grateful I’ve put off redoing the basement and hope that my insurance comes through in a big way so maybe I can upgrade my carpet, repaint and hopefully I’ll be able to replace all the baseboards as well. My next project was going to be the guest rooms upstairs, but apparently my hot water heater had other
plans for my renovation schedule. Hearing Jude and Tony’s voices getting louder, I turn to see them walking through the door to my office.

  “I’m outta here, Gabba,” Tony says.

  “Tony, I’m sorry I ruined your day again, basketball and well…everything,” I return.

  “I know, just another day in the life of Gabby Carpino’s cousin,” he teases me. “Just so you know, I plan on sleeping in tomorrow so if you could ward off any more catastrophes until the afternoon, that would be good.”

  “Bite me, Tone,” I say glaring at him.

  He looks at Jude and says with a grin, “Can you believe her? I gave up my Saturday morning basketball game for this shit!” Then Tony goes on to slap Jude on the shoulder as he starts to walk out of the room and says, “Hey man, see ya tonight at six.”

  Jude gives him a lift of the head, as if he’s agreeing that yes, he will indeed see Tony tonight at six!

  What?

  “What?” I mini scream!

  “Vic’s co-worker dropped out of the draft, Jude is going to take his place,” Tony answered.

  “What?” I repeat my thought and mini scream!

  Tony ignores my mini scream and turns to walk out of the room yelling back at me, “If all you’re bringing is salad, it’d be good if you brought something sweet Gabby!” Then he disappears into thin air.

  I look to Jude and repeat yet again, “What?”

  “I told Tony I’d come with you. I’ll pick you up at five thirty,” he informs me.

  “Five thirty?” I ask.

  “Gabby, you ask a lot of questions. Yes, I’ll be here at five thirty. Size of this town, you can get anywhere in thirty minutes, even though Tony said it wasn’t far,” he informs me again. “The crew said they’ll be done soon. They’ll contact your insurance Monday morning and get with you about the details. The fans need to run through Monday night. Good luck with that, sugar, I think they’re freaking the dog out,” he continues, throwing a glance over at Mia tucked into a tight ball in her bed, unmistakably not liking the buzz of the fans.

  Not hearing anything past “sugar” and not getting my wits about me, the only thing I can come up with is, “You play Fantasy Football?”

  “Not for quite a few years, but I used to,” he answers. “I gotta get to the office and get some shit done this afternoon, you good here?”

  “Uh…yeah, I’m good,” I answer, still trying to catch up with the latest plans. “You really don’t need to come and get me, I can get you the address so you can just go straight there.”

  “Not a big deal, we’re both goin’,” he answers with finality. Looking at me intensely, he says with authority but it comes out more like a demand, “Five thirty.” Then he turns and walks out of the room.

  Finally pulling myself together, I remember my manners and run out of the room to follow him up the stairs and to the front door that he is already opening and call to him, “Jude?”

  He turns, “Yeah?”

  “Well,” I look down and then slowly back up to him. “Thanks for today. All your help, you know, moving furniture and stuff.”

  “Do you have an alarm?” he asks out of the blue.

  “Uh, yeah?” I sort of answer, trying to get used to his bizarre conversation tactics.

  “Set it when the crew leaves. Keep it set while you’re in the house and lock your doors,” he instructs again. Then his arm reaches out low, pointing down and to the side, he continues, “And please, look out your freaking window before you answer the door.”

  I feel myself frowning and say, “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I’ve got to get to the office, we’ll talk more tonight, just do as I say, all right?”

  I sigh, thinking locking my doors and setting my alarm isn’t that big of a deal, does he think I’m an idiot? “Okay, fine,” I answer with only a hint of attitude.

  “Good. See ya at five thirty,” he gives me a head lift and I stand here watching him turn to jog down my front steps to his silver truck. He opens the door to his truck, turns to look at me and repeats loudly this time, “Lock the door!”

  I glare at him for a second, realize we are in a stare down and he’s not going to leave until I lock my door. Fine, whatever. I move out of the way, swing my door shut and lock it. I stand here and stare at my door and then glance down at Mia, who is sitting at my feet looking up at me. She doesn’t look as confused like I feel, she’s complaining that her morning nap has been interrupted by all the activity and she’s behind on her rest. “Let’s go outside, baby,” I tell her, thinking I could use a nap as well. I let my sweet girl outside and head to my pantry to see if I have ingredients to make something sweet for Tony. I find the fixings for almond vanilla bars. Tony deserves almond vanilla bars after answering my every whim for the last two days. I get the first layer spread, start mixing up the cream cheese and powdered sugar topping when I realize that Jude never told me why he came by this morning. I didn’t think of it when we were moving furniture and lifting carpet I was so focused on the task at hand. He said we’ll talk tonight, so apparently I’ll find out soon enough. I put my bars into the oven and set about making the raspberry vinaigrette for my spinach salad as I hear the restoration crew coming up the stairs. They confirm everything Jude told me about their plans, I find out they will be back late on Monday to check the moisture levels in the basement and I see them out. I let Mia back in, finish my dressing, pull out my bars to cool and head to my bathroom to take a shower. I lift Mia onto the bed, she curls up immediately to catch up on her beauty sleep and I look at her enviously. Thankful that I have two hot water heaters so I can still take a shower, I turn on the water to warm up, but hesitate. Turning, I walk back to my front and back doors, lock them both and arm my security system. Frowning at myself, not really knowing if I’m conflicted about following Jude’s commands or confused about why Jude commanded it, I head back to my shower. As I stand under the hot water in my walk-in shower that I just renovated the previous year, I try to ignore the tiny little happy spark I feel deep down that is seriously scaring me more than any of the crazy ass stuff that has happened to me in the last two days. Not really wanting to admit it, but I’m pretty sure that itty bitty spark might be having Jude Ortiz in my house. Or maybe it could be Jude Ortiz being bossy telling me to lock my doors and set my alarm. Scaring me even more was the possibly it could just be both.

  Chapter 4 - Making A Decision

  For the second time today, I’m standing on Gabby’s porch pressing the bell. If she doesn’t look out the fucking window before opening the door, I might have to turn her over my knee. At the same time, I’m trying to think about how I’m going to talk to her about Trevor Harper and how she needs to take extra precautions until we find him. I need to get that done before we go to the draft. I only said yes to the draft so I could see Gabby again, I haven’t been in a Fantasy Football League since I was deployed. But her cousin seems to be a decent guy, clearly has Gabby’s back, so when he asked if I’d draft a team at the last minute, I took my opportunity. I thought about filling him in on what’s going on with Trevor Harper, but decided to talk to Gabby about it first since she at least had a security system in place and if she used it, she should be okay for today.

  I hear the dog again and a moment later I see Gabby peek out the window to look at me. I have to say, I’m relieved she’s capable of following directions. I lift my head to her, she disappears out of the window, I hear her throw the lock and she swings the door open.

  “Hey,” she says softly.

  Shit, she’s beautiful. She’s wearing makeup now, but not too much, her dark blonde hair has been smoothed into long waves down her shoulders to the middle of her back. The front of her hair, coming just below her nose, has fallen slightly over her forehead and I see her hand come up to tuck it behind her ear. She’s wearing a black New Orleans Saints faded but definitely girlie t-shirt because it hugs her tits and torso perfectly. She’s got on a tight faded jean skirt, not too short but hits her
above the knees. She’s barefoot again. As my eyes make the slow trek back up to her face, I notice her attention is on the dog who is again circling my feet wanting my attention.

  “Mia,” she calls. I look down at the dog, which now has two ridiculous fucking bows on its head, one over each ear. “Come on, baby,” she calls softly again and the dog goes to her immediately. “You want to come in for a sec? I need to grab the food,” she says to me.

  “Yeah,” I answer, following her into the house. She turns to the left, immediately my eyes go directly to her ass where there’s sparkly shit on the back pockets of her jean skirt. Thinking that I haven’t had a ‘type’ in a long time but Gabby just might be it, my eyes go from her ass to look around her house. It’s pretty damn big and I’m wondering again if she lives here by herself. We move through a huge room filled with a shitload of furniture and windows all along the back of the house. The backyard is deep and wide surrounded by a rod iron fence with lots of landscaping that looks out onto a lake. I’m an outdoors kind of guy and have never been big on subdivisions, but there’s enough nature through those windows to almost make you forget you have neighbors.

  Gabby cuts into my thoughts and says, “I was thinking, you really don’t have to take me to the draft. I’ll drive and you can follow me. I have no idea why it takes so long to pick football players, but those guys really get into it and it can go late.”

  I look over at her and she’s moving around the enormous kitchen with her back to me as she’s trying to get out of coming with me to the draft. Deciding to change the subject on her, I ask, “Do you live here alone? You’ve got a sweet house, sugar, but it’s big for one person.”