by Tara Sheets
Water spewed from the broken showerhead. The handle had fallen off, and the bathroom floor was a mess. He yanked out a wrench and a pair of pliers, then got to work.
An icy blast of water hit him square in the chest. Swearing, Jordan tried to twist the nozzle. The wrench was useless, but with the pliers he was finally able to clamp onto the metal pin. He turned it clockwise until the water pressure decreased, and the spray eventually slowed to a trickle, then nothing.
He sat back and assessed the damage. Luckily, the pipe wasn’t broken, so water hadn’t leaked into the walls.
“The fixtures will need to be replaced,” he said, standing. “But it’s not too bad. I’ll get them in tomorrow while you’re at work.”
Kat had her arms crossed like she was hugging herself. She still looked bothered, but she seemed to have lost some steam while he was working. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Don’t worry about it. This stuff is old, and should’ve been replaced a long time ago.” His clothes were dripping wet and he headed to the front door. “I’ll bring some towels to mop this up.”
“I can do it myself,” she insisted.
He turned back and fixed his gaze on hers. “Do you have towels?”
Kat flushed a lovely shade of pink and rubbed one foot on top of the other. “No.”
He nodded and went to the house. After gathering an armload of towels, he walked back to her apartment with a nagging sense of unease. It bothered him that she didn’t have furniture. He needed to change that.
Kat opened the door and reached for the towels.
“No,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
She looked like she was going to protest, then rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She swung the door wide.
In the bathroom, Jordan set the towels on the floor and began mopping up the water.
Kat took another towel and joined him.
They worked together, tossing each soaked towel into the sink and wringing them out until, at last, the floor was just slippery.
Kat sat back on her heels. Her dark red hair hung in loose waves around her face. Her cheeks were pink from exertion, the blush extending down her neck and across her chest.
Jordan felt his throat go dry. She was so damn beautiful, and she probably didn’t even know it.
“I’m still mad at you for barging in here,” she said, even though her mouth curved into a tired smile.
“I know.”
She looked like she was going to say more but changed her mind. Shivering, she crossed her arms over her chest.
He stood quickly. “You should put on some dry clothes.”
“I will as soon as you leave.” She jumped up fast and slipped, stumbling forward.
Jordan reflexively caught her against him. Heat spiked through his veins, hot and fast. She was warm and wet and her strawberry scent was intoxicating. “Be careful,” he said huskily.
“Will you stop telling me what to do?” She thumped him on the chest. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” he said. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to help.” He was still holding her, and she didn’t pull away. He could feel her body melting against him.
Bright green eyes fringed with dark lashes studied him. Jordan held very still, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. What he really wanted to do was devour her. Throw her over his shoulder and take her to bed. He wanted to finish what they’d barely started in the broom closet the day before. Instead he waited.
Very slowly she lifted up on her toes and whispered against his mouth, “Thank you.” Every muscle in his body went taut and he gripped her tighter.
She brushed her lips sweetly against his, then pulled away.
He blinked, his body straining with desire. “What was that?”
“A thank-you kiss,” she said with a shrug. “You know, for helping me even though I didn’t need it.”
“A thank-you kiss?” he asked, unimpressed.
“Sure.” Her face lit with amusement. The little minx was teasing him. “People sometimes do that. Don’t they?”
“Oh, hell yes,” Jordan said with a wicked smile. “All the time.”
She let out a little squeak as he pulled her closer and “thanked her” right back.
The kiss was meant to be quick. Playful. She was smiling at first and hell, so was he. But when she wrapped her arms around his neck, dug her fingers into his hair, and made a little mmm sound in the back of her throat, he wasn’t feeling playful anymore. Hot arrows of lust shot through him. All his focus was on her. The sweet cinnamon taste of her mouth. The heat of their wet bodies, pressed together. There was so many things he wanted to do with this woman. If she had any idea, she’d probably run for the hills.
When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing a little unsteady.
“Um.” She stepped back. “I think you should go now.”
He fought for a casualness he didn’t feel. “Now that we’ve both properly thanked each other?”
“Oh! I almost forgot.” She turned away, and it was all he could do not to drag her right back.
Opening the medicine cabinet above the sink, she handed him a cobalt bottle of liquid. “This is from my friend Juliette Holloway. It’s a remedy for your cat allergies.”
Jordan took the vial and held it up to the light. “A Holloway potion,” he mused. “I’d forgotten about these.”
“You’re familiar with them?”
He closed his hand over the small vial. “My parents didn’t believe in conventional doctors, so they were all about natural, homeopathic remedies. My mom always kept some of the Holloway stuff around when I was a kid. She bought it from the old lady who lived in the house. Herbal teas to bring down fevers, sprays to help with poison ivy, that sort of thing. The lady said Holloways were healers, and she kept gallons of their family’s remedies in the attic.”
“So you believe in it, then? The Holloway magic?”
“Magic?” He let out a huff of amusement. “My mom was the believer. All I know is the remedies seemed to work. But then, I was a kid so I had nothing to compare it to.” He slid the vial into his pocket. “Thanks.”
She seemed bothered. Jordan had the distinct feeling he’d just disappointed her, somehow.
“I’m sure it will help,” he added, not quite knowing what else to say.
“Great.” She walked out of the bathroom with her head high. She was such a bundle of contradictions. One moment she was kissing him like a fiery hot vixen, the next she was walking away like an ice queen. As alluring as she was, she also frustrated the hell out of him.
When he gathered the wet towels and followed, she was standing near the door of her apartment. One bare foot rubbed the top of the other, and if it weren’t for that nervous movement, she’d have looked perfectly composed.
Jordan glanced around the apartment, noticing everything. The small suitcase pushed against one wall. The cardboard box of clothes beside the suitcase. The table near the window with the butterfly cage on top. There was a single loaf of bread and a small jar of peanut butter on the table, and aside from those things, there was nothing else.
She has nothing else.
Guilt roiled inside him. He was living in a house full of furniture. The upstairs rooms were crammed with things nobody used, and here she was living like this. He should’ve known. He should’ve thought to check.
“Why don’t you have a bed?” he asked, aware of the rough edge to his voice. The woman turned him upside down and inside out.
“Because I like to live spartan. I’m a minimalist.”
Jordan took a last look around the room as she ushered him out. Spartan, my ass. She was broke, and he knew it. If there was one thing he understood, it was bravado. He’d mastered it a long time ago. Always pretending things weren’t that bad. Pretending he wore outdated, ill-fitting clothing as a kid because he wanted to, not because he had to. Pretending he wasn’t hungry at lunchtime because there was no food in the fridge that wee
k. Growing up hadn’t been easy, and he’d learned how to build walls around himself for protection. He knew walls when he saw them, and Kat had the rock-solid, steel-beamed, impenetrable kind. The kind that kept most people conveniently at a distance.
But he wasn’t most people.
Chapter Fifteen
Kat leaned back in her chair at the Daisy Meadows Pet Rescue, stretching her arms above her head. It was only ten o’clock in the morning and already she’d begun making arrangements for their annual Pet Adoption Day on Saturday. Volunteers who took care of homeless animals would bring them to the waterfront for a meet-and-greet with the public. If all went well, they’d find homes for many of the cats and dogs.
“Not bad for a newbie on the job, right, Hank?” She reached under the desk to pet the snoozing dog.
Hank scooted out and licked her hand, tail spinning happily as she settled him in her lap. That morning, she’d opted to finally wear something other than her old work clothes. After the shower fiasco the night before, she’d busied herself sorting through Juliette’s box of clothes. Anything to keep her mind off Jordan. Not that it helped.
She adjusted the bodice of the sundress she’d chosen. It was bright and lovely, in shades of lavender and deeper purple. When she pulled it over her head that morning, it had instantly lifted her spirits, though she’d have to do something about her black combat boots soon.
“Well, I’ve gone and kissed him again, Hank,” she murmured, stroking the dog’s silky ears. “But it’s nothing.”
Hank made a snuffling noise.
“No, I mean it. It’s not going to be a big thing with him. He’s just . . . around, you know? He’s just around, and so I happened to kiss him, that’s all.”
Smitty Bankston bustled through the front door with a bag of dog food. Today she was wearing acid-wash jeans with a lime green top, and her hair seemed bigger than usual. “Hardly working, eh?”
Kat gave her a cheery wave. She was beginning to suspect that even though Smitty’s default expression was sour, she might actually have a sweet side. Maybe.
Smitty had called earlier to say Bobby was picking her up for brunch. Kat could hear the thread of pride in the older woman’s voice when she announced it. Clearly, Smitty loved her nephew, and why wouldn’t she? He was charming and easygoing, and Kat had enjoyed having dinner with him the other night. They may not have had a whole lot in common, but that was okay. It had been easy. Comfortable. Bobby was one of those nice, gentlemanly types. Unlike a certain unruly beast who bothered her more than she cared to admit.
“Where are you guys going for brunch?” Kat asked.
“Ask him yourself.” Smitty jerked a thumb behind her. “Some hoity-toity place on the waterfront.” She disappeared into the back room with the bag of dog food.
Bobby came through the door holding a bouquet of daisies. With the cowboy hat and dimples, he looked like the perfect gentleman. He set the flowers on the reception desk. “These are for you.”
“Are you sure Smitty won’t mind?” Kat teased. “She might accuse you of flirting with the hired help.”
“Nah, she won’t care.” He lowered his voice in a stage whisper. “She’ll think they’re for the office, but you’ll know the truth.”
“Killing two birds with one stone, huh?” Kat took the flowers and went to the corner cupboard to search for a vase. “How’s the puppy doing?”
“Already running around the ranch like he owns the place. We’re a good match.”
“Did you tell her about the dog?” Smitty called from the back room.
“Oh, yeah,” Bobby said. “My friend has a dog he’s thinking about putting down.”
Kat spun around from the cupboard, heart thumping. “Why? Is the dog dying?”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s old. Only has three legs. It belonged to my friend’s ex-wife. She left the dog behind when they split, so he’s planning to take it to the pound.”
“Tell him to bring it here,” Kat blurted. She hated the idea that someone was considering putting a dog to sleep just because it was inconvenient for them. “I’ll take him. I love three-legged dogs. They’re my favorite. The older the better. Can he bring him in today?”
Bobby chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Or I can pick him up at your friend’s house, if it’s easier,” Kat said quickly. “I just don’t want him to do anything rash.”
“I’ll bring it in myself,” Bobby said. “If it’ll make you happy.”
“It would,” Kat assured him.
He gave her a warm smile. Kat was once again struck by what a good-looking guy he was. And the fact that he was willing to bring the dog himself was nice, too. Everything about Bobby was nice. A girl could get used to that.
Smitty came out of the back room. “Move your caboose, Bobby, or we’ll be late for our reservation.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
On the way out the door, he turned and winked at Kat. “See you soon.”
After they left, Kat swept the front off ice, sanitized the empty crates in the back room, and did inventory on the cat and dog food. She made coffee and let it grow cold. She drummed her fingers on the desk, willing the phone to ring. By four o’clock, she’d resorted to folding Post-it notes into tiny paper airplanes. And all the while, she fought not to think of Jordan. His sinful kisses. His hard body pressed against hers. His large, warm hands on her wet skin.
She dropped her head onto the desk and groaned. What she needed was a diversion. Somebody who would distract her from sexy thoughts.
The front door opened and a right jolly old elf walked in. The old man had a comb-over of sparse, white hair, bushy eyebrows, and a ruddy complexion. He wore a faded polo shirt, khaki pants, and a good-natured grin that made him look exactly like Santa Claus. All sexy thoughts flew straight out the window. He was perfect.
“Good afternoon,” Kat said brightly.
“You must be Opal’s new tenant.” He ambled into the office. “She told me you worked here.”
Kat stood and gave him her best meet-the-parents smile. She genuinely liked Opal, so it was important to make a good impression. “Yes, I’m Kat Davenport.”
“Sam Norton,” he said in a jovial voice that really cemented the whole Santa Claus impression. “I’ve been on this island for about a hundred years, so if you have any questions at all, just ask.”
Who takes care of your reindeer? Do elves get paid vacation? Am I on the naughty list? “How can I help you today?”
“Well now, I have a friend who’s in a bit of a pickle. He’s a farmer on the other side of the island, and he’s got a goat who needs a home.”
“We don’t really take barn animals,” Kat said gently. “The crates aren’t big enough, and most of the volunteers on our list only foster cats and dogs.”
The old man looked resigned. “That’s what I told Wally, except he wanted me to try.”
“Why can’t he keep the goat on his farm?”
“He says it’s bad luck, on account of Wally being superstitious and the goat being born with only one eye.”
For the second time that day, Kat responded on impulse. “I might be able to take it. Opal has a lot of space on her farm. Let me ask her and see if she’s okay with it. Our miniature donkey needs a friend.”
Sam eyed her thoughtfully. “You know, Opal said there was something special about you, and I have to agree. You’re good people, Kat Davenport.”
She could think of a certain someone who’d beg to differ, especially once he found out about the new goat and dog. But she’d worry about that later. When it came to animals in need, they had to come first. Kat clearly remembered what it was like to feel different—flawed—growing up. That bone-deep belief that she wasn’t good enough and nobody really wanted her . . . It wasn’t something that just went away. Heck, even now that she was an adult, the wounded feeling remained. It was just buried over years and experience like a piece of shrapnel in the body, surrounded by layers of scar tis
sue. Life went on, and sure, it hurt occasionally, but it just became part of who she was. But her love for animals was more than bone-deep; it was part of her soul. She’d do everything she could to help them, especially the needy ones nobody wanted. This was her calling, and she wasn’t going to let them down.
Chapter Sixteen
Later that evening, Kat pulled into the driveway of Willowbrook Lavender Farm and parked, scanning the front yard and fields for any sign of Jordan.
His truck was there, but as far as she could tell, he wasn’t outside. That was a good thing. As much as she planned to pretend nothing had happened between them, she wasn’t quite ready to face him yet. Especially since in the space of one day, she’d agreed to take responsibility for two more animals. He wasn’t going to like it, but if Opal said it was okay, that’s all that mattered.
The moment she opened the driver’s-side door, Hank hopped off her lap and ran across the yard toward Waffles. The mini donkey was grazing in the large paddock. He took one look at them and brayed.
“Hello to you, too,” Kat said as she approached him. How had he gotten out of his pen? She scanned the field, but there was no one outside.
Waffles ran along the paddock fence, tossing what looked like an old rubber bicycle tire. It seemed he’d found a new toy and wanted to show it off. He flung it side to side, then up and down, kicking his hind legs out in happiness.
Laughing, Kat rested her arms on the fence, filled with a sense of contentment. Waffles was doing so much better than when she’d first arrived. She could feel that he was happier, and that was the best feeling in the world.
She walked across the lawn to feed the chickens and find out how Waffles had gotten out. Maybe she’d left the fence unlatched.
As she neared the barn, she slowed to a stop.
Jordan was standing with his back to her, his hand resting on the handle of a shovel. He was breathing heavily and, from the looks of it, he’d been cleaning out the pen. Sweat dampened his T-shirt, making it cling to the defined muscles of his back. In a swift, unexpected move, he tugged the hem of his shirt up and over his head, then used it to rub his face and damp hair. Now he was standing with his very naked back to her.