by Ellie Hall
An ear-splitting howl.
Dad groans. “Do something, Graham! You’re a shrink. Try your mumbo-jumbo stuff on him!”
“I told you before, I’m a psychologist, not a psychiatrist! And he’s a dog! It’s not the same as treating a person!”
“It can’t be that different! Just tell him to take deep breaths and think happy thoughts!”
“You tell him to take deep breaths and think happy thoughts!”
Ah-roo!!
Before either one of us can say another word, poor Gus—whose dark fur seems to have taken on a green tint—lunges over the center console. With a twitch of his shoulders, his mouth flies open and the contents of his breakfast spew out.
Right onto my lap.
Gus proceeds to shower me with doggy kisses as the car lurches to a stop in front of Amour Toujours.
Oh là là! Whatever do I do now?
7
Josie
“I need someone to come out now! The city inspector’s coming in four and a half hours!” I massage my temple with one hand as I hold my phone with the other. What started out as a tension headache is morphing into a monster of a migraine with each rejection I face.
Have I mentioned I hate rejection? I mean, what girl wants to be told no a dozen times over in the span of an hour? Especially when you’re offering to throw down some big bucks. If this were a real date, we’d be talking lobster and steak with a chocolate lava cake for dessert. (Oh, does that sound good right about now!) But nope, no matter how hard I beg and plead, no plumber within Yulp’s “Bird’s-eye View” from the boutique is willing to come out today.
“Sorry, ma’am. What about, like, next week?” The guy on the phone sounds as enthusiastic as my teenage nephews do when I try to talk to them during a video game. “Like, Monday at nine? That’s, like, way early.”
“Monday? Monday is not going to cut it! And nine AM is not early, young man. The last plumber I had showed up at seven thirty!”
“Um, maybe you should call him up instead.”
“I did, but he didn’t answer! I’ve left him dozens of voicemails! Texts, too!”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Did you try asking nicely?”
“Excuse me?!”
“I’m just saying—”
“Thank you for your advice, Dr. Phil, but I won’t be needing your services. Goodbye!”
Right before I end the call, I hear him ask, “Who’s Dr. Phil?”
Argh!
Could this kid be right? Is Graham not returning my calls because I might’ve sounded a little strong in my messages? I’m just passionate, I reason with myself. Passionate about having things go my way. Who isn’t?
The real question is, how can Graham expect to run a successful business if he doesn’t return his customer’s calls and texts? But given that he has a perfect Yulp rating, that must mean that I’m the only one lucky enough to receive such plumb bad service—pun definitely intended!
I’m pounding and my head’s fuming—ugh, I mean, I’m fuming and my head’s pounding—when the bell on the front door chimes.
Finally!
My jaw drops to see Graham walk in with the sheepiest look I’ve ever seen. We’re talking a whole flock of ewes and rams set out to pasture, holding hands and singing Kumbaya. I want to be mad—I try to be mad—but his obvious regret takes my anger down a few notches. It’s also hard to be upset at a man who makes your heart do flips and tumbles by merely existing. And the fact that he’s here to rescue me during my darkest moment of leaky despair, fills me with so much hope and gratitude, I don’t have room for any more ill will. I’m ready to burst out with a ceremonious rendition of “Graham had a Little Lamb” when my gaze falls on his bottom half. The half that’s wearing some kind of blue and green plaid makeshift kilt.
What the—?
With his long legs, he reaches me before I can speak a word, which isn’t a hard task to do considering how surprised I am. “I’m so sorry, Josie. I came as fast as I could.”
Once we’re face to face, I give him a thorough look-over. He has on a regular cotton T-shirt and white socks and brown loafers, but his hairy calves fall into the “one of these things isn’t like the other” category. I have so many questions—one being how he stays so tan in the middle of winter—but we have a toilet that needs fixing. So I force my gaze up to meet his gorgeous blue eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re here! Do you know how hard it is to get someone to come out on such short notice? I’ve called up literally every plumber on Yulp—none of whom have a perfect rating like you do. Other than being a little unresponsive and late—which I’m sure you have a good explanation for—you’ve more than proven that you’re the most reliable in your business.”
He smiles gratefully. “I’m relieved you’re not upset, Josie. I have to admit, from the way your voicemails and texts sounded, I expected a lot worse. I appreciate you being so gracious and understanding. This is a welcome worthy of a war hero.”
“Well, in my book, dealing with plumbing issues is on par with going to war.” We share a chuckle, and for the first time in hours, my lungs expand easily again. That’s when a strange odor invades my nose. It’s reminiscent of wet socks, dirt, and farm animals—lots of farm animals. I take a step back and bump into the counter. “A-are you sure you haven’t been to war already? What is that smell?”
“Oh, that. I just came from the animal shelter. That’s where I volunteer with my dad on Wednesdays and why I had my phone on silent.”
“Oh, okay.”
“We got asked to take a dog out for the afternoon, and poor Gus got carsick on the way over. His breakfast unfortunately landed in my lap.”
“His breakfast? Why was he eating in the car?”
“No, I’m talking about the kibble that had been in his stomach. The regurgi—”
“Ew, stop!” I shudder as a chill runs through my body. “I get your point.”
“Sorry.” Graham holds his hands up and nods. “Anyhow, that’s why I had to change out of my jeans and wear this instead. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me coming in here covered in, uh, you know what. Don’t worry, I’m decent in the back, I promise. I had my dad check to be sure.”
My eyebrow muscles get the workout of their lives as I digest what Graham just said. “What you’re telling me is that you’re not celebrating some kind of Scottish holiday today and the thing around your waist is actually a shirt?”
“Right.”
“Why didn’t you go home and change first?”
“Because that would’ve taken another half an hour. And based on the last text you sent me—the one with the red grumpy-faced emoji—I figured you wanted me to come over ASAP. Actually, make that yesterday,” he teases with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “So, here I am. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Not at all.” Hearing that Graham put aside his own comfort for me has me swooning. Or it might be the fact that he’s standing in front of me in his undies! I have grand visions of Wolverine dancing across the marble floor, Risky Business-style. But the outfit aside, it’s his thoughtfulness that impresses me the most. “I’m really touched that you chose my needs over your own. Thank you, Graham.”
“It’s nothing. I know how important this opening is to you. I’m here to make sure you’re flushed with success before Saturday.”
I groan at his pun, but I do it with a smile. “I appreciate it.”
He points toward the back of the boutique. “Why don’t I go take a look and see what the problem is.”
“Please do. I can’t have any leaks when the inspector comes today.”
“Right. I’ll get on it.”
When he strides past me, I catch a glimpse of his backside. It’s just as he said, his shirt provides enough coverage so all I see is about four inches of fabric. I’m disappointed to find out that he’s wearing boxers, not briefs. At least they’re not boring, solid-colored boxers. His are teal with a fun sushi print featuring all of my favorites—salmon nigiri,
California rolls, and tamago sushi. The sight is enough to make my mouth water—I’m talking about the sushi, not Graham! Okay, to be honest, maybe Graham, too. But before my eyes can stray too far, I force my gaze away.
I fan my flaming cheeks and take a deep breath. Here I go again, crushing on Graham. Except that the feelings I had for Graham when I was young are nothing like what I feel for him now. It’s not so much an infatuation as it is an appreciation. A deep appreciation. I didn’t think it was possible for Graham to get more attractive, but he has. Not because of his sexy beard and sweet smile, but because of his heart. He’s so generous and kind and funny, with a good sense of who he is. Those are ultimately the traits that matter in a man, not what he does for a living. Honestly, Graham has all the qualities that could make me fall for him. Qualities that have made me fall completely head over stilettos for him.
My heart leaps wildly in my chest. I think I want to date a plumber. Not just any plumber. I want to date Graham.
“Josie?” Graham calls out as he emerges from the hallway. “I found the culprit.”
“What is it?” I hasten my steps to meet him. “How bad is the leak and how long will it take for you to fix it?”
“There is no leak. What you have is a sweaty toilet.”
“A what?”
“Condensation. When warm, damp air hits the surface of something cold, like the base of a toilet, condensation forms.”
I gasp. “It’s the humidifier, isn’t it?”
“Bingo. I’m afraid it’s got to go.”
“But, the air! I need to keep the humidity at 60 percent at all times, especially during the winter. We can’t have my brides leaving here with dry skin.”
“Are you serious?” He quirks a brow as he studies my face. “Oh boy, you are.”
“Of course I am! What are our options? There must be something you can do.”
“Well, let’s see.” He rubs his chin as he thinks. “We could use a drip tray. It’s like a coaster for the toilet. Not the prettiest fix, but it’s cheap.”
I place my hands on my hips and give him a “try again” look.
“We could install an anti-sweat valve. But that’ll only work if we have easy access to a hot water line. Otherwise, we’ll have to open up the wall.”
My hand flies to my chest. If I had pearls on, I’d be clutching them right now with my damp hand. (Apparently, the toilet’s sweaty condition is contagious.) I consider my options, then come to the painful realization that I have to pick my battles. “Fine, I’ll get rid of the humidifier.”
“Hold on! There’s actually a fairly easy fix for this. We can insulate the inside of the tank to prevent it from getting too cold.”
“Yeah? You can do that?”
“Yep. We just have to empty the tank, dry it out, then glue in the insulation. Do you happen to have any bubble wrap lying around?”
“I do!”
“Great. The only other thing we need is silicone sealant. I have some at home.”
“That sounds easy enough! But can you do it”—I glance at my watch—“in less than four hours? Is that possible?”
“Of course it’s possible. I’ll have it done in less than two. That’s including the time spent driving home and back.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Graham! I knew you’d come through for me!” I’m so giddy with excitement, I start bouncing up and down on my heels. The bounces turn into hops, and soon I’m jumping and turning around in place and having a grand ole time thanking God for bringing Graham back into my life … when my left ankle suddenly gives way. I lose my balance and start falling backwards—
“Whoa, there!” With the suaveness of Superman, Graham scoops me up and holds me to his chest. “I’ve got you, Josie.”
“Oh!” We’re practically nose to nose now and all I can think about is how safe I feel and how good he smells. Oh-so good.
Graham smiles at me. “Thanks.”
“Huh?”
“You said I smell like a garden.”
“I did?” I’m in such a daze, I don’t even realize I blurted my thoughts out loud. “I mean, you do. How do you smell so good?”
“I used those fancy wet wipes you have in the bathroom. I’m impressed they’re biodegradable.”
I croak out the first word that pops into my head: “Bamboo.”
“Come again?”
“They’re made from bamboo—the wipes. That’s how they’re biodegradable.”
“Yeah? I learned something new today.” His grin widens. “I have a feeling I could learn a lot from you, Josie Child. I’m so glad we reconnected.”
“Me, too.” I nod, willing myself not to blink. Because if I do, I’ll miss out on the tender way that Graham’s looking at me. The way a man looks at a woman he wants to share wonton soup with and take on motorcycle rides into the sunset. A look that has me wondering if he might want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him. His gaze keeps dropping to my mouth, and there’s such a look of pure desire in his eyes, I’m sure it’s only a matter of seconds before our lips—
“Gus, no!”
We both turn toward the front of the boutique where a man and the world’s largest dog are running in, headed straight for Graham and me!
8
Graham
Lord, have mercy!
I throw up the quickest prayer I can manage the instant I spot Gus. All the hair on my arms stands up as I watch him shoot across the store. A hundred and eighty pounds of black fur. Two flappity-flappy lips. One bright pink, wagging tongue. He gallops with the finesse of a drunken pirate who just discovered hidden treasure—us! I barely have time to cringe and squeeze one eye shut when Gus makes impact.
Boom.
Thud.
Crud.
My knees buckle, taking me and Josie, who’s clutching onto me for dear life, down in one fell swoop. I land oh-so-ungracefully on my backside—the backside that’s going to need years of therapy to recover from today’s humiliation. Josie falls on top of me, her soft red curls tickling my cheeks as our foreheads touch. Being this close to her is like a dream—powerful enough to make me forget about the stiffness in my joints and the icy cold feeling of the marble tile on my bare legs. But my dream turns into the stuff of nightmares when Josie screams loud enough to shatter my eardrums.
“Ahhh!” Josie flails about, all the while hiding her face in the crook of my neck. “Get it off! It’s licking me! It’s eating me alive!”
“Gus! Come here, boy!” My dad’s laughter echoes around me. “Don’t worry, miss. He’s just saying hello.”
Dad must have pulled Gus away because his doggy scent fades a little, along with the sound of his panting. With a grunt, I lift myself up, bringing Josie along with me until we’re both sitting. That’s when I see Gus and my dad standing a few feet away, both attempting to look innocent.
Attempting, being the key word.
“Dad!”
He holds up a hand. “Before you say a word, son, can I just say, what a nice setup you have here, miss. Real high-end and classy.”
“Oh, you’re Graham’s dad!” Josie scrambles to her feet and smooths her skirt into place. With her face as red as her sweater, she smiles sheepishly like she just got caught making out with me—which clearly did not happen. “Hi, Mr. Kendall, I’m Josie. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’d come over and give you a hug, but I think Gus here did enough of a greeting for both of us.”
“Dad! What happened to staying in the car?” I can’t help the edge in my voice. My adrenaline’s worn off and the pain in my tailbone is increasing two-fold. It also hits me that my old man possibly stole my one and only chance to kiss Josie. I was so close, too! He better have a good reason for the interruption.
“I took Gus out for a tinkle, then got inspired to go myself.” He grins at Josie. “Do you have a powder room I can use?”
“Yes, it’s right down the hall.”
“Great!” Dad brings Gus over to me and hands me one e
nd of the leash he just hooked onto his collar. If only he’d done that a minute ago before setting Gus loose! He gives me a playful wink and remarks all too loudly, “Now I know why you were in such a rush to get over here. I’ll take my time so you two can sneak in some more kissing.”
“Dad—”
He walks off chuckling, leaving me mortified and horrified—two words that have a lot more in common than the number of syllables they share. Mortified because the look on Josie’s face tells me my lips will never have the privilege of touching hers. Horrified because I literally cannot get off the ground.
Wow, does Gus have game!
The dog must be a mind reader because his tail’s spinning round and round like the blades of a helicopter. He pounces on my lap and licks my face like I’m a walking Milk-Bone—sans the walking part. If I weren’t in such pain, I’d give him a high five—or high paw—for his awesome tackling skills. But my fifty-three-year-old body’s not what it used to be. I can only wince and give his back an awkward pat.
“Are you okay, Graham?” Josie asks while keeping a safe distance from us. I can’t help but wonder if she fears being close to me or Gus more. She bites her lower lip and eyes me with concern. “Do you need help getting up?”
“I’m fine. Just taking a little breather.” I give her a quick once-over. “How about you? You didn’t get hurt when we fell, did you?”
“No, not at all. You cushioned the fall for me.”
“That’s good.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I’d rather my bum be injured than Josie’s. In its current condition, it fits right in place with my sorely bruised ego. “Sorry about the fiasco just now. I’m sure a dog is the last thing you want in your shop. As soon as my dad’s done, he’ll take Gus out of here.”
“It’s okay. I mean, as long as it—Gus—doesn’t go near the gowns, the banquettes, or the rugs, it’s all good.”
“Banquettes? Are you talking about tables?”
“Banquettes are what you call the upholstered benches. It’s French.”