Plumber
a friends-to-lovers romance
~
Sapphire Keyes
Copyright 2016 Sapphire Keyes. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Other Books by Sapphire Keyes
KORA
IRIS
THE POLAR BEAR'S IDENTITY
RIDING RED
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Epilogue
Sneak Peeks
One
“What the hell happened to your eye?” Jeremy asks, brushing the pad of his thumb across my bruised eyelid.
He's leaning so close I can see sweat percolating along his sharp jawline.
I swallow hard. “It's nothing. I bumped into a wall,” I lie. I can feel my cheeks grow warm. I've always been a terrible liar and I know my best friend can probably see right through my charade. We've known each other since college and he's always been on point when it comes to reading my body language.
Jeremy frowns. “You could at least try harder to lie. Seriously Rachel, what happened?”
Guilt and shame flood through my veins. I ignore his question. The answer is just too complicated. I sigh. “Can you just get on with the plumbing? Will's going to come home soon and he'll flip out if he finds the house flooded.”
I bite my lower lip.
Sorry Jer. I don't mean to snap. I just don't want to air my dirty laundry today. I don't feel like being the object of pity. Not today.
“Did William do this to you?” Jeremy asks, trying to get a better look at my injury. My eye is so swollen I can't open it all the way.
I shirk away from Jeremy's touch. “Please, don't.”
“Rachel.”
“Please, Jer. Just take a look at the leak,” I plead.
“Fine, but this conversation isn't over.” Jeremy crouches down and examines the burst pipes. After a moment, he grunts, “This isn't good.”
It's been a pretty shitty day. A flooded house only further dampens my mood. It's my one-year wedding anniversary. And my husband clearly doesn't remember. It's been a whole year since I married William Masterson. New quarterback for the New York Giants and built like a Greek god. Two-hundred-fifty pounds of pure, rippling, violent and unforgiving muscle. A jealous son-of-a-bitch I once thought I loved.
What did I ever see in him? In the 365 days that we've been married, I've been his punching bag at least once a month. The latest episode being two days ago. In the fifty-two weeks since we exchanged 'I do's, I've been hospitalized twice. Because of him.
Why do I stay?
I look at Jeremy, who's concentrating hard on the plumbing.
Jeremy's the polar opposite of William.
Jeremy's smart. Gentle. Funny. Kind. My most trusted and loyal confidant.
Why didn't I just-Oh that's right. Because Jeremy was married. That's why. He wasted his twenties on an undeserving, nervous wreck of a woman who took half of everything he had when she left. And I wasted my twenties on drunken one-night-stands.
I guess we've both grown up a little since then.
On the plus side, he's not married anymore. He finalized his divorce six months ago. Not that I was counting down the days or anything. Not that his divorce changes our friendship. I'm just glad he's done with that bitch Marie (Or Marie Antoinette, as I like to call her).
Neither of us make eye contact for a while. I know Jeremy is probably still fuming about my black eye. This isn't the first time he's seen evidence of Will's abuse. Last year he had to take me to the hospital after I “fell down the stairs”. He suspected foul play then but I lied to stop him from worrying about me. If things were the other way around though and someone hurt him, I'd be pissed off too. I'm protective of him like that. But for some reason, his protectiveness over me only makes me feel terribly guilty. I don't want him to worry about me. He has enough on his plate already.
Jeremy runs a plumbing business: Hale's Plumbing and Heating Ltd. He has a few guys who work for him but he still supervises all the major projects to make sure they're done right. He started the business from scratch four years ago and it's really taken off since then. The downside is, he's usually working thirteen-hour days, six or seven days a week.
Which is why I don't want him to waste time taking care of me. He works like a dog as it is, and deserves to have drama-free downtime when he's off work. Unfortunately, my life is very chaotic at the moment, which is why I've been distancing myself from him. Not bothering him is my way of helping him.
I haven't even talked to him in months and if it wasn't for this emergency, I might not have reached out to him until the end of summer. I just really want to get my life in order before I start reconnecting with old family and friends.
Jeremy starts whistling “Stairway to Heaven” and tugging on his ear. He only does that when something stressful is on his mind. His jaw clenches. God I hate it when he grinds his teeth. His nervous energy infects me too and I start wringing my wrists.
“He didn't mean to do it,” I mumble while Jeremy shines a flashlight under the sink.
“Jesus Rachel,” Jeremy swears. He pulls out from under the sink. “I knew it. I frickin' knew it. When are you going to learn? Your husband is a prick. Leave him. He doesn't deserve you.”
I fold my arms across my chest. Defence mode activated. “Jeremy, you're here to fix the sink, not give me marriage counselling. Last time I checked, that wasn't your department of expertise.”
“Ouch,” Jeremy says, wounded. His wiry frame tenses. I can't see his expression but I know he's probably scowling. I shouldn't have said that. It was a cheap shot and I'm so much better than that.
“Sorry Jer. I didn't mean to sound so harsh,” I apologize. A lock of my curly blond hair falls past my face and I brush it behind my ear. “It's been a rough day.”
“It was my fault for snapping,” Jeremy admits, running a hand through his hair. “I was out of line, sorry. It's just, your husband, he-ugh never mind.”
I change the subject. “How are the pipes looking?”
“They're shot. These old copper pipes are corroded and they should be replaced. I'll go grab my tools from the truck. In the meantime, can you mop up as much water as possible?”
I nod. “Sure.”
After Jeremy goes back to his truck to grab his tools, I take out the mop and started soaking up the disgusting water pooled across the floor. It's a filthy brown color and smells like piss. Piss! Coming from a goddamn kitchen sink!
What a bloody disaster.
Will and I snagged this gorgeous 1904 Victorian mansion two months ago at a fraction of the asking price. On
paper it was a steal. A million bucks for six acres, ten bedrooms, four bathrooms and the works. On the outside, it looked fantastic with its charming gabled roof and vintage flair. Problem was, once we opened up the walls, we discovered that it was filled with shitty electrical wiring, leaky pipes and moldy walls. Essentially a fucking mess. Just like our marriage.
The whole reason we moved to Jersey City was to try and patch up our marriage and well...get away from her. That home-wrecking bitch that Will swore he'd never see again. Tiffany-what's-her-name. I caught him with his pants down five months ago after a home game. Shortly after New Years. He promised we'd leave New York and start fresh. I wanted to believe him so badly I agreed to forgive and forget. Besides, holding a grudge would only gnaw away at my insides and I was never good at saying 'no'. Yes, I was pathetic. But I didn't want to just quit our marriage without at least trying to make things work again.
So here I am, trying my best to be a good wife. Taking care of our house and making it a home. But William? He doesn't lift a finger to help. And he doesn't even remember why today is so special to me. To us. Can you blame me for feeling bitter?
“How's it looking?” Jeremy asks. I hear him closing the back door, his toolbox jangling.
I turn around and take in the sight of him, coming towards me. It's ninety degrees out and sweat glistens along every inch of his bronzed skin. My breath catches. “It's okay. I cleaned up most of the water but it's still leaking a bit. And it stinks.”
“Is the water main shut off?”
“Yup,” It was the first thing I did before I even called him.
“Okay, turn on all the faucets in the house so the excess water will drain. Then I'll get cracking at this baby.”
“Okay.” I go upstairs and flip on all the faucets. As the bath faucet slows to a steady drip, my mind wanders again.
I can't believe it's been almost five months since I last saw Jeremy. The last time I saw him was at my New Year's party back in New York. That had been rough for him because he didn't know anyone there. He was a good sport about it though and his jokes really riled up the crowd. Jeremy's good with people. Really good. Charismatic is the word that comes to mind. A bit too much so judging by how many of my friends asked me for his number after that night.
But Jeremy hasn't dated anyone since his divorce. At least, not that I know of.
When we first got married, Will wanted me to cut ties with Jeremy altogether. He was insanely jealous of Jeremy's bronzed skin and handsome European features. And since Jeremy works out three times a week, he's got a rock hard body to boot. Jeremy's black hair is always slicked back with the perfect amount of gel and his chiseled face and panty-melting smile can land him any woman he wants. But he's always been very particular about who he chooses to date. Which is why I was so surprised to learn about the shit storm he went through with his ex-wife, Marie.
Anyway, I'd told Will that he had nothing to worry about. I said, “If something was going to happen between me and Jeremy, it would've happened fifteen years ago.”
Jeremy and I met back in college. First year Calculus. He asked to borrow a pencil. We became study buddies and remained friends ever since. Sure, I found him attractive, but nothing ever happened between us because we were never both single at the same time. Poor dating decisions and bad timing I guess. We're both in our mid-thirties now and just platonic friends. Yes, occasionally I'll indulge in what-could-have-been fantasies, but those are just that-fantasies. I would never let them become anything more than that.
I come downstairs and halt on the final tread. In the late afternoon sunlight, Jeremy's broad, taut shoulders look good enough to eat. I study the cords of muscle running down the length of his back and wonder if they feel as hard as they look.
“Hey...Jer. Did the leak stop?” I ask.
“Yeah. It's good now,” he grunts. He tears out the old pipes with his bare hands and throws them on the floor. I study his ropy arm muscles as they shift from side to side. His Siberian tiger tattoo shifts with him. I love his ink. It's sexy and really suits him. I was there when he got that tattoo shortly after graduation. He never even flinched once. Just sat there for six hours straight while I entertained him with funny gossip and video clips. The tattoo artist had been blown away by Jeremy's high pain tolerance.
It's a beautiful tattoo and I love it. Especially since my favorite animal is the tiger. The ink is still sharp and the design curls up his arm and around his right shoulder.
“So, how've you been?” Jeremy asks. “When did you move back to Jersey?”
“Same old, same old. Accountant by day, yogi by night. We bought this house five months ago.”
I've been taking yoga classes three days a week for five years now. After work on Monday, Wednesdays and Fridays, I go Sunita's Hot Yoga class. Yoga keeps me centred. Plus it helps me lose weight too. I'm 5'6”, 135 lbs now and I have a set of defined abs and a perky ass that I'm damn proud of.
“Five months ago? And you're just calling me up now?” Jeremy's eyes slant up at me. “I'm hurt.”
“I've been swamped at my new job and with these renovations-time just got away from me. Besides, I know how busy you can get with work too,” I explain. “How about you, Jer? How's single life treating you?”
“It sucks,” Jeremy admits, reaching for a wrench. “It's so hard to meet good women nowadays. They're always wearing way too much makeup and these ridiculously skimpy outfits. What happened to all the cool, down-to-earth chicks?”
“They're probably all taken by now,” I smirk. “What did you expect?”
Jeremy thinks for a moment. “Do you have any single friends left? Maybe you can set me up on a blind date,” he winks.
I do know two co-workers who are nice, single and reasonably attractive. But for some reason I say, “No, sorry. All my girlfriends are married.”
I don't like the idea of Jeremy dating someone I know. Is that awful? In fact, I feel a tinge of jealousy at the thought of Jeremy dating anyone at all. If he finds a steady girlfriend, he won't have any time for me. I'd have to compete with her for his attention, which I don't like. Yes, I can be pretty possessive sometimes. Selfish even. I know, you're probably wondering, “Well, you have a husband to help you, Rachel!” But in my defence, every time I ask Will for help, he calls me stupid and says I'm an idiot for not being able to fix it myself.
Also, in case you haven't been paying attention, my husband's a jerk.
Jeremy? He never belittles me. Even when I screw up something really bad, he'll assess the situation and figure out a solution. Like that time I crashed his Volkswagen in college. Or the time I got drunk and accidentally slept with my English professor. Looong story.
Jeremy has saved my ass more times than I can count and he's never complained about it. Or lost his cool. His level-headedness is one of his greatest qualities. That and his sky-blue eyes and irresistible smile.
Well then, you ask again, why the hell did you marry this 'Will' in the first place?
Oh geez. That's a ridiculously long-winded story. It's so cliché too (but don't all love stories start that way?). We met through mutual friends. Had instant chemistry. The sex was mind-blowing...He was rich as sin and romantic to boot. I bragged to all my friends, “I'm dating a pro football player!” and they were green with envy. Will took me on exhilarating joyrides in his Lamborghini as well as refined dates at the Met. It was magical. What more could a girl ask for? It was a whirlwind relationship and we got married a year after we met.
Of course Jeremy warned me. Everyone did. Of course they said Will wasn't good enough for me. Jeremy pointed out Will's nasty temper and raging testosterone (side effect of steroids, I later discovered). But I ignored him and everyone else. Even alienated some distant family members just so I could be with the “man of my dreams.” I thought they were just jealous and I had blinders on when it came to Will's faults.
Turns out I was wrong about Will. They were right. Once Will “had” me, he moved on to his next conq
uest. I was his trophy wife, but in name only. Behind my back, he disrespected me with lies and cheating. I couldn't even count the number of nights he stayed out all night without calling or when he came home angry, drunk and looking for a fight. The nights I fell asleep crying to our wedding video and all the times I hid in our walk-in closet having a panic attack because of something he said.
Why did I marry him? This question has been on my mind for months now. For the promise of a happily ever after? Or just to fill the aching loneliness in my heart and between my legs?
I absentmindedly twist my wedding band.
“So why did you move back to Jersey? New York finally get to ya?” Jeremy asks.
Jeremy and I both went to Rutgers and I'd lived in Jersey all my life up until I started seeing Will.
“Oh. It...I just got tired of New York. Too much traffic and too much chaos. Work was really stressful and I was getting burnt out.”
That's partly true. Obviously I never told Jeremy about Will's affair because I knew Jeremy would probably hunt down my husband and pummel him to death for disrespecting me. I briefly entertain the idea of the two muscular hunks in my life wrestling over my honor and I stifle a laugh.
As if that'd ever happen.
“Is that all?” Jeremy asks, arching his brow.
“Yeah, that's all,” I croak.
My throat is going dry.
“Are you sure there isn't something else you want to tell me?” He knows. He sees right through me. He's always been able to pick up on my subtle expressions and little gestures.
My lips tremble as I remember that night...When I came home early from yoga and saw their nude bodies tangled in our Egyptian cotton bedsheets. That whore's cherry lips wrapped around my husband's erection. The memory is forever emblazoned in my mind.
“Are you okay Rach? What's the matter?” Jeremy is standing up now. He's only a few inches away and I can smell his spicy cologne and feel his body heat radiating towards me. He rests a hand on my shoulder and kneads it. “You don't look so good,” he murmurs.
“It-It's nothing,” I stutter.
Plumber Page 1