Full Potential

by L. J. Kentowski

  Tyler was having a hard time not laughing. “For the record,” he said, “Mr. Johnson was standing, and I’d definitely consider it an A-rated flick.” His intention was to lighten the mood, make her feel better, and maybe even laugh together over the situation. When her eyes became mere slits, lips pursed together, and fists clenched at her sides, he knew he’d screwed up.

  Jena spun around, and he had the good sense to step to the side. She didn’t falter in her march toward the apartment.

  “Come on, Red. Don’t be like that. He won’t remember a thing. He barely knows his wife’s name most days.”

  Turning on her heel, she glared. “Yeah, well, I will, Tyler. It shouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it never will again.” She huffed, and then glanced down at the bag of popcorn on the ground between them. “And throw that away,” she said, pointing. “Littering’s a crime.”

  Tyler’s amusement unleashed. “Sure you don’t need help with that shower?”

  Her loud groan reached his ears right before she slammed the apartment door.

  Still chuckling, he picked up the bag and threw it in the back of his truck as he made his way to the driver’s seat. With a satisfied smile on his face, he drove away thinking not of how the night had gone so wrong, but of how he’d proven that Jena couldn’t deny her attraction.

  Now, he only wanted to know if there was even more between them.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Coffee mug in hand, Jena hunched over the counter in the kitchen, staring with bleary eyes at the pot brewing in front of her. Could it go any slower? The pot stopped and shot out a menacing hiss of steam as if it had heard her derogatory comment, before dripping ever so slowly once again. She let out a sigh and cradled her head in her arms on the counter. It seemed the morning was going to torture her as much as the night before.

  Trying to sleep after the previous night’s disastrous scene had been a chore. Her mind kept racing through the memory of it, causing her to go from aroused to humiliated like a wind-up doll with a broken gear on crack. Or was it a blow-up doll? When she’d finally fallen asleep, she’d dreamt of them having sex in front of a live audience of clowns. She’d woken covered in sweat, needing to finish herself off but terrified a bunch of killer clowns would jump out of the closet if she tried.

  The day was going to be rough. Jena knew it the minute she decided to give up on sleep and climb out of bed. She and Riley hadn’t made specific plans for the day, thankfully, but Jena needed to be ready for anything the bride-to-be might want to check off the wedding list. Hence, the need for coffee. Two pots would be ideal, but with the coffee maker currently offended, it would probably take all day to get another one brewed.

  Ten minutes later, the brew finally done, she poured some into her mug, leaned back against the counter, and blew at the hot liquid. As she waited for it to cool, she heard a dripping noise behind her.

  Assuming the coffee machine was simply getting its last words in, she stared at it. But when she heard more dripping and saw nothing happening in the pot, she realized the sound was coming from the sink. Eyeing the faucet, she listened again. No water leaked, but the noise repeated…definitely coming from somewhere in the vicinity.

  Opening the cabinet door underneath the sink, Jena immediately located the problem—one of the pipes was leaking, and the drops were landing on a metal can of cleaning supplies. From the appearance of the area around the can, namely, a ginormous puddle of water, it had been going on for a while.

  “Oh, shit,” she cried as she tested the hot and cold handles of the faucet. Both were as tightly shut off as they could go while the dripping continued below deck.

  Jena hunkered down and eyed the pipe as if she could will it into submission. The drops seemed to come faster as she stared at it, the damned thing, apparently, in cahoots with the coffee machine. With no idea what to do, she slid her hand up and down the pipe, until she touched upon a mysterious plumbing mechanism she assumed was where the problem stemmed. The part didn’t budge when she gave it a twist, so she looked around for a wrench. Because wrenches fixed everything, right? Wrenches and hammers. Oh, and screwdrivers. That was pretty much the extent of her tool knowledge. Ms. Fix-It she was not, but she was determined to repair this because she’d had a shit morning and needed to find some semblance of control. What better way to do that than to fix the plumbing?

  On a mission, she found a bowl in one of the upper cabinets, set it underneath the leaking pipe, and went in search of that wrench. Less than five minutes later, she’d found one in a utility closet in the hallway and thought, maybe this day was getting better. After figuring out how to size the tool accordingly, she kneeled on the kitchen floor, hand grasping the handle of the wrench clamped onto the pipe and said a prayer. Putting all her weight on the handle, she pushed.

  And the floodgates opened.

  Water sprayed into and around the bowl, onto the kitchen floor, splashing her face and chest. Blindly, she scrambled to tighten whatever she’d loosened while taking on water like a sinking ship. It wasn’t easy since her hands kept slipping, but she finally got the fitting tightened to where she was no longer getting drenched.

  Inhaling gulps of air as if she’d been drowning, which wasn’t too far off, she plopped down on the floor and stared at the mess around her. It was a complete catastrophe. Everything was soaked, including her. As if to mock her, the connection began to drip again. Double time.

  The pipe was an asshole.

  Jena hugged her knees to her chest as she fought back tears. What the hell was she going to do now? She couldn’t call Riley and tell her she’d broken the sink and probably ruined her kitchen after only being there a few days. She wouldn’t be a maid-of-horror on top of a shitty friend.

  No, she would fix this on her own. But how? Closing her eyes, she scanned her brain for every memory of HGTV episodes she’d watched in the last few years. Unfortunately, she’d always been so wrapped up in how hot the guys looked in their tool belts, she had never really paid attention to what they were doing, so that didn’t work.

  Google it. The inner voice came through like a telepathic genie.

  Of course. Google was the do-it-yourself god of modern man. She’d look up how to fix the sink and clean up the mess. If there was something ruined, she’d Google how to fix that as well.

  After making sure the bowl was still set in place under the pipe, Jena went in search of her phone.

  An hour later, she was at the small hardware store on Main Street, toggling her gaze between a shelf in the plumbing aisle and the phone in her hand.

  A deep chuckle next to her sounded. “Did your GPS take a wrong turn?”

  Jena glanced to the side over her shoulder. Tyler was standing a few feet away, legs straddled, arms crossed over his chest, a grin on his face. The way his biceps bulged out of the sleeves of his white t-shirt was a crime. What were the chances of him being there the one and only time she’d stepped foot inside a hardware store? And, damn it, why’d he have to look all sexy and mouth-watering when she probably resembled a scraggly homeless person drying up from a rainstorm?

  “Go away,” she bit out with a scowl before turning back to the shelf.

  He laughed and came up next to her, positioning himself so he faced the same shelf she did, his arm brushing against her shoulder. “You’ve been standing here like that for the last ten minutes. What are you looking for, Red?”

  She peered down at the phone in her hand, and once again back up at the shelf, hoping the widget in the picture would somehow jump out at her so she wouldn’t have to concede to Tyler’s help.

  He snatched the phone from her hands. After a minute of eyeing the screen, he asked, “What do you need this for?”

  Shoulders slumped, Jena cast her gaze down at the floor. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

  “Jena.”

  Slowly, she raised her eyes to his. “A pipe in the kitchen is leaking.”

  A smile teased as he picked up a piece of her plastered hair
. “And you laid down underneath it?”

  She sneered and slapped his hand away. “Ha ha. No, I tried to fix it with a wrench, but it ended up spraying all over me. So, I Googled what I needed to do, and it’s saying I need this.” She jabbed at the phone, only to realize the screen was now dark. Snatching the phone back from him, she punched in her code to unlock it and show him the picture. “I mean, th—”

  “I know what you need.”

  “You do?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “So, do they have those here?”

  “There’s one here, yes.”

  “Okay, where is it? Can you point it out to me? I’ll just grab it—”

  Tyler pointed a finger at himself.

  She stared at him, confused.

  A devious grin crept up his face. “Are you going to grab me?”

  Jena pushed at his chest. “Go away if you’re not going help.” Turning, she stomped down the aisle.

  With a laugh that grated her nerves, Tyler reached out and grabbed her wrist, swinging her around before she got more than a few steps away.

  “Relax, Red. I was trying to tell you that you need a plumber.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And what, you’re conveniently a plumber as well as a fireman?”

  “Well, I’m no professional, but I know a thing or two about plumbing, yes.”

  “And you could fix the leak?”

  Lifting his palms up between them, Tyler tilted his head. “I could try.”

  Jena stared at his hands, the long, thick fingers teasing with what she knew they were capable of doing to her. Especially, if they were alone together in the apartment and she just happened to throw herself at him.

  “I…I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said.

  His eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

  “Um…” Damn it, she couldn’t think of a worthy excuse. Where were the random blurts of truth enhancements when she needed them?

  Tyler let out a loud exhale. “C’mon.” He pulled her along as he made his way down the aisle.

  “Wait.” She made a half-assed attempt to escape his grasp. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to fix the leaky pipe at the apartment. If I let you stand there and weigh your fear of being alone with me against getting the help you need, the entire place would flood, including the bar. You want that on your conscience?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. He hadn’t glanced back at her once as he continued through the store, his fingers firmly tightened around her wrist.

  “You’re joking, right?” she asked.

  He peered over his shoulder and winked.

  Jena’s shoulders eased as they went through the door of the store. “Wait. Did you get what you came here for?” She’d noticed he wasn’t carrying a bag or anything.

  “It can wait.”

  She pulled back at his hold. “Well, don’t you need the part I showed you, at least?”

  “I think I have one at my house. I’ve got to pick up the tools I’ll need from there anyway. I’ll meet you back at the apartment, okay?”

  Oh, shit. If he had one of those tool belts the guys from HGTV wore, she was done for.

  Too busy picturing him in a tool belt sans clothing, she didn’t realize Tyler no longer had her wrist, but she’d followed him to his truck anyway.

  “Jena. Your car is over there.” He pointed behind her, where, sure enough, her car was parked two vehicles away. “You need help?”

  She took a step back. “Nope. I’m good. See you there.” Spinning on her heel, she jogged over to her car, got in, and exhaled. She watched Tyler back up and head toward Main Street before dropping her head onto her hands folded over the steering wheel.

  Okay. She could do this. She could be alone with Tyler without letting her libido take over. All she had to do was focus on her goals. Career…Family…Tool belt. Sex.

  Good Lord, she was weak.

  Jena stared through the windshield, eyeing up the front of the hardware store, contemplating whether they sold Super Glue for those big girl panties that suddenly felt way too loose.

  ***

  Figuring she had about twenty minutes before Tyler got to the apartment, Jena raced to the bathroom the minute she got back, threw her hair up into a messy bun, splashed a handful of water on her face, and decided to add a touch of mascara and gloss. She had no intention of wanting to impress him, only to make herself somewhat presentable. At least, that’s what she told herself.

  “Plan on kissing the pipe?”

  Jena jumped at the sound of Tyler’s voice. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching her with a lopsided grin on his face. Of course, he’d caught her putting on lip gloss to fix a leaky sink, so he had that right.

  “How’d you get in here?” she asked, slamming the gloss on the bathroom counter and shoving past him. She heard him shuffling behind her as she made her way to the kitchen. The bathroom was way too close to the bedroom, and she needed distance from the lure. Not that he wasn’t temptation on two legs, but at least she wouldn’t be surrounded.

  Upon entering the room, Jena spied a toolbox sitting on top of the kitchen counter, which prompted her to sneak a peek over her shoulder to make sure Tyler wasn’t wearing a tool belt. To her relief he was only sporting jeans and a t-shirt, the same ones he’d had on at the hardware store, she noted.

  Tyler faced her across the island between the kitchen and living room. “You left the door open.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “Really? Wow. I’m not usually that careless.”

  A self-satisfied smirk lit up his features. “I tend to have that effect on women.” She shot him a look that said give me a break. “Anyway, it’s no big deal. Most people around here don’t lock their doors. Hell, some of them leave keys in their cars. Seeton doesn’t have half the crime you do in the city.”

  “Just dirty old men?”

  Tyler let his gaze slowly fall to her chest, and then back up. “And some young ones.” He winked.

  Did the apartment have air conditioning? She should turn that on.

  Fanning herself, she spun around and headed toward the sink. “So, this is the culprit.”

  Tyler chuckled, and Jena realized how dumb she’d sounded. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath, opened the cabinet door, and moved aside to allow him room to get to the pipe underneath.

  He stepped closer, as if to pass, but stopped directly in front of her. The action was an invitation in his smoldering, yet teasing gaze, and Heaven help her, it was tempting to accept. Apparently, her body was more interested in self-preservation because it kept her frozen in place. Even her breathing appeared to stall. After several rapid heartbeats, a triumphant smirk shaped his mouth, and he lowered himself to peer inside the cabinet. Silently, she exhaled a slow, steady stream of air when she heard him tinkering underneath the sink.

  “You tried to fix this already?” he asked, his voice echoing from inside the cabinet.

  Her cheeks heated. “Um…yeah. I…uh…twisted a wrench.” Good Lord, she sounded like the chick from Dirty Dancing. Yes, Mr. God’s Gift to Women, Patrick Swayze, I carried a watermelon, and have no clue how to dirty dance but would love to learn. Please, put me in the corner, show me your tool belt, and teach me how your wrench works. Wait, now she was mixing fantasies. Did someone turn the heat up again?

  When Jena finally regained focus, she realized Tyler was out from underneath the cabinet and regarding her as if she were his favorite form of entertainment.

  “Hence, the hair?” he asked with a laugh.

  Her hand flew up, and when fingers brushed over her bare neck, she remembered she’d already taken care of the mess. “Ha ha, but yes. It sprayed all over the place. I cleaned up best I could but needed to get to the hardware store for that part. Did I make it worse?”

  “Well, I’m not sure what it was like before you manhandled the poor thing, but it needs to be replaced. You should have turned the water off first. I’ll have
to go back to the hardware store and get the part. I have a couple, but they’re not the right size.”

  “You mean, they come in different sizes?” Jesus, why couldn’t she simply keep her mouth closed and avoid sounding like a complete moron on the subject.

  Tyler stalked toward her until he was mere inches away, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he locked in on her. “Yes,” he said. “The one you need is long and thick.”

  She had an incredible urge to lower her gaze to his long and thick but somehow managed to control it. “It is?” she asked on an exhale.

  “Mmm hmm. I’ll show you when I come back. You can even help me fit it in.”

  “I can?” Christ, was that her voice?

  “Definitely.” He swooped down, placed a slow, tender kiss on her cheek, and then whispered, “Be back soon.”

  Jena stared into space, a hand on her racing chest until she heard the door close downstairs. Oh, good Lord, she was in trouble. There was no way she was going to make it through an afternoon with Tyler Cole in the vicinity, looking sexier than she’d ever seen him before. Granted, she’d seen him naked, but it sure seemed as if he’d gained some sexy notches since then.

  For the next five minutes, she thought about ways to protect her mission. She could call Riley, but then she’d have to fess up about the broken sink, and she still had no idea the extent of the damage the water spraying all over creation had done. Another alternative would be to throw on layers of clothes, but that would be too obvious…and sweltering.

  Of course, there was always the whole willpower route she could go…

  The tiny devil on her shoulder swatted the angel away and whispered his suggestion.

  So, what was the worst that could happen if she slipped and fell into sex with Tyler? It wasn’t as though it would be as earth-shattering as their first time together. First times were like holy shit, we’re having sex, and everything is overstimulated and exaggerated. Emotions are mixed with hormones, and things get confused for appearing bigger than they really are.