Fixed Infatuation Page 5

  I glanced over my shoulder at my house. “My guest bathroom toilet is overflowing and I tried shutting off the water, but it’s still running.”

  He squared his shoulders. “Did you shut off the main line to the house?”

  “The one behind the toilet?”

  “Nooo,” he said slowly. “The main line.”

  “Uh, there’s a main line?” How would I have known this?

  He scrubbed his hand down his face. “Yes,” Blake replied, aggravated. “How do you think the whole house gets water? There’s a shutoff valve on the side of the house.”

  “Oh. That was probably listed with the home owners manual I didn’t get,” I said, feeling like a complete idiot, but pathetically attempted a joke. “Okay then, I’ll go try that.” I turned to head the rest of the way down his path.

  He sighed. “Let me get some pants on and I’ll be over in a second.”

  Yes, please put pants on so I can concentrate, and Sandra might keep her hands to herself. I walked across the street and started for the side of the house, all the while mumbling under my breath about stupid attractive neighbors who should never answer their door in just their underwear. And seriously, why would the shutoff valve be on the outside of the house? Shouldn’t it be in the garage or under the kitchen sink or something? I honestly needed to start inspecting every inch of my house, or I was never going to make it through this remodel.

  I searched everywhere I could, but the only thing I found was the spigot to the hose. This wasn’t good. Maybe he meant the other side? I was crossing in front of the house, when I saw Blake coming, still shirtless and looking edible as ever. He had a tool belt in hand and a pair of gray sweatpants on that were barely being held up by the curve of his ass. He walked past me, without much acknowledgement.

  “Go in the house. I’ll shut it off and be there in a second,” he commanded.

  I jerked my head back. “Shouldn’t I come with, so I can see what you’re doing?”

  “No need. Go inside.” He disappeared around the corner, and I stood there with my mouth gaping.

  He honestly thought I was going to do what he said, simply because he said it? Well, sorry, Mr. I’ll Tell You How High to Jump. This was my house, and I wasn’t going to stand around and watch while he fixed everything.

  I’m going to watch while I help.

  Why couldn’t he have been some ogre who had a hairy back and a handlebar mustache, with a name like Frank or Merle? Seemed logical that someone in construction would be slightly overweight, a smoker, and not give a flip about their appearance. Although, I don’t think Blake cared what he looked like. I was just about to march around the corner and tell him he would show me exactly what he was doing so if it happened again, I could help myself, but Sandra popped her head out the front door.

  “Umm, hello, you just left me.”

  Crap. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I went to get some help.”

  Her eyes glanced across the street, then back at me. “Well, hopefully you got some ’cause this floor is a mess. Where are your towels so I can sop it all up?”

  My shoulders dropped. “I’ll get them.”

  I walked in the house and to the hallway closet to grab every towel I owned. There was about a half an inch of water in the bathroom, and the hallway was soaked. I saw the toilet was no longer overflowing. Blake must’ve managed to shut it off. Big jerk was going to expect a thank you, and I was certain it might cause me physical pain to say it. It annoyed me that he was getting under my skin.

  Sandra was behind me, and I handed her two towels to spread out and help wipe up what we could. The front screen door slammed shut, and I heard footsteps in the entry. My heart dropped into my stomach as I realized I still hadn’t put a sweater on over my tank top, and Blake Whitmore was now inside my house. I had all of a half a second to compose myself before he made an appearance a few feet away.

  “Water’s off.”

  I blew some hair out of my face. “I can see that.”

  He approached me, and I ignored the intake of breath Sandra had sucked in at the sight of him. I know, Sandra. I know. His shirtless self was something to behold, and even I was struggling to maintain my composure. His shoulder brushed my bare arm as he went by to go into the bathroom, and a tingling went down to my fingertips as my skin was covered in goosebumps.

  Both my friend and I stood in the doorway and watched as he took the lid off the toilet and fiddled around with a small chain. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from him. Muscle rippled across his shoulders and down his back as he worked. Part of me itched to reach out and touch his golden skin to see if it was as leathery as it appeared. I was so entranced in my own thoughts that I hadn’t even realized he’d glanced back. Sandra had made a noise, but he was looking directly at me.

  His brow rose. “Did you purr at me?”

  My shocked expression must’ve been all over my face. “What? No, of course I didn’t.” I shot around to Sandra. “Would you cut it out!” I scolded.

  She smiled really big at him. “You’re the plumber?”

  The side of his mouth tilted up. “No, I don’t deal with pipes.”

  “Sure looks like it to me.” She flirted flippantly.

  “I’m a contractor. I normally hire out for shit like this.”

  Her eyes trailed down the length of him. “Too bad. I know someone who needs her pipes cleaned.”

  “Sandra!” I shrieked.

  She chortled. “Oh, come on, Molly. I’m just making light of the situation. There’s piss water all over the place. It’s the middle of the night. I think we could all use a little laugh.”

  I couldn’t find the humor in her words as embarrassment predominantly rolled through me. “My pipes are fine. Every single one. Solid, sturdy, and clean.”

  She nudged me. “I’m not referring to the house.”

  Did she really think I wasn’t catching on to her innuendo? I was a writer, for heaven’s sake. I made this crap up for a living. I tried my best to ignore the fact Blake had stopped everything he was doing and was watching the exchange between Sandra and me.

  “I know,” I gritted through my teeth and darted my eyes to the man in the room, then back to her. My cheeks were burning, and I knew she could pick up on me silently begging her to cut the shit, or I’d find some way to get even with her.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, well, looks like the water is done pouring out. How much to take care of this?”

  “How much?” he asked, confused.

  “Yes. You came over, you provided a service. So how much?”

  Blake looked like he wasn’t sure if she meant it or not. “There’s no charge. I twisted a knob.”

  “Okay, and any other plumber would have done the same and slapped a hundred dollar bill with it.” She looked over at me. “I don’t mind paying for it.” Her city roots were showing.

  “Lady, I said I wasn’t a plumber. I was giving a hand. This kind of thing doesn’t cost a hundred dollars. And any plumber who charges that is ripping you off.”

  Sandra blinked. “How about a beer as repayment then?”

  “I don’t have beer,” I interjected.

  “Wine?” She looked at him hopefully.

  He cocked his overly attractive brow and put his hands on his hips. My eyes shot down to that glorious V then back up to his face. Thankfully he didn’t catch me this time.

  “Do I look like I drink wine?”

  She gave him a devious grin. “Maybe not, but you look like you could enjoy the finer things.” She leaned closer to him and touched his bicep with her pointer finger. Her flirtation kicked up a notch.

  He reciprocated her smirk. “Every once in a while.”

  I glanced back and forth between them, completely baffled by what was happening here. I knew she’d find him attractive, that was a given. But I didn’t think she’d throw herself at him in the first five minutes. I should have never asked him to come over. Given enough time, I would have figured out how to shut off the water o
n my own, I think.

  I took a step forward, placing myself between them. The bathroom wasn’t that large, and it unfortunately brought me uncomfortably close to Blake. “Thank you for the help. I think I’ve got it from here.”

  He tilted his head slightly to the side. The corner of his mouth lifted up like he was in on some joke I wasn’t privy to. “Is she always this bitchy?” he asked Sandra but kept his dark piercing eyes on me.

  She laughed. “No, actually, she is too nice most of the time. But while you’re here, I might as well ask for her since she’ll likely try not to speak to you after this.”

  I had no clue what she was doing.

  “I know Molly is going to need a contractor to do some work around here, and whether she asks for your company to do it or hires someone else, would you be so kind to stop in once in a while and make sure they’re doing everything properly?” Her voice was oozing with honey. Honey I knew was laced with a concoction men would fall at her feet for.

  I shot around to her. “Sandra, I’ve got it. I don’t need anybody looking in on me. I’ve already said I plan on doing most of the work myself. No babysitters necessary.”

  She winked at me. “Just covering your basis. Your neighbor here looks perfectly capable of lending a hand if you need it.”

  I gritted my teeth, knowing full and well what she was doing. She may have been flirting with him, but she was simply buttering him up and all but shoving me in his face like some matchmaker. I wanted to drown her in the nasty water on the floor. Never had she interfered or tried to set me up and now wasn’t the time for her to start. Finding a man wasn’t even on my top ten list of priorities, let alone giving Blake Whitmore my time and attention.

  I mouthed the word don’t to her, to which she shrugged. I turned back to Blake.

  “What are your plans for this place?” he inquired.

  Was he genuinely curious or did he want to tell me what to do again? “Minor cosmetic things. Paint, tiling, nothing crazy.”

  He did his usual grunt that I was beginning to get used to. “Mandy, this place needs way more than cosmetic work. These pipes, for example, need to be cleared, the tub has to be sanded down and reglazed, and I saw a handful of other things just walking from the front door to here.”

  Okay, so what? “For the love of God, would you get my name right? It’s Molly. Molly,” I said more slowly. “And again, I’m good. I’m sure there are items that will require more attention than I may be capable of teaching myself, but I’ll take care of it. My house, my problem.”

  I hadn’t noticed he’d leaned back on the counter, but he stood up completely and towered over me.

  “I know what your name is. And I also know you’ll attempt to do all of this alone, only to hire someone to come in and fix what you screwed up, and they will do a half-ass job.”

  I was completely flabbergasted. His automatic assumption that I was incapable of learning a trade and doing the work perfectly without help was offensive. It pissed me off. I get the whole ‘girls can’t do boy things’ mentality, but that was bullshit from years ago. Women play football, install sheetrock, and scratch themselves just the same as men today. As much as I wanted to stand in front of him and educate him on the ways of the new world, it would likely go in one ear and out the other. Men like Blake Whitmore didn’t listen to sensibilities.

  He had his ways. I had mine.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Listen, while I truly appreciate you coming over and helping me in the middle of the night, I think I’ll take it from here. If I have an issue, I’ll give your office a call and schedule for someone to come out.”

  His jaw was set in stone. “Not someone. Me. You call, you ask for me, and it’ll get taken care of.”

  “Fine,” I responded, simply to pacify him.

  Sandra was standing behind me and nudged me in the back. I inadvertently stepped forward, closer to Blake. His chest was so close to my face, the urge to reach out and touch the toned tan skin was making my fingers tingle. I dug my nails into my palms to resist. However, I wasn’t immune to the undertone of soap on him.

  He raised a brow when he caught me staring. I felt so pathetic and weak. My eyes betrayed me over and over. “Have a good night, ladies.” He may have said it to both of us, but he stared directly at me.

  Heaven help me he was definitely getting under my skin. He skimmed past me and tipped his head at my friend. As soon as I heard my front door shut, I turned to glare at Sandra.

  “I’m going to kill you for that.”

  She batted her lashes. “Mhmm. You’ll be thanking me. Trust me.”

  I trusted her sensibilities with men about as far as I could throw her.

  Blake

  OPENING THE DOOR TO MY OFFICE, I stormed past my secretary, Karen, and plopped down in my oversized chair that had seen better days. My desk was in a current state of disarray and no amount of organizing was going to help the situation. I blew a breath of hot air through my nose.

  Jesus, I already had a headache and it was barely 7:00 a.m. I rubbed at my temples.

  Karen poked her head in my door and cleared her throat. “Good morning, Mr. Whitmore. Would you like your coffee black today?”

  I glanced up at her. She’d been with me for almost seven years now and likely knew me better than my own family. She was a middle-aged, single mother of three boys, and I paid her well enough to not go looking for a second or third job. As sad as it was, that was the extent of my knowledge on her. All I cared about was that she did a hell of a job and had been the only secretary who’d tolerated me for this long.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Add some sugar, though, will ya?”

  She nodded and pushed her bright red glasses up her nose. Too bad I also didn’t care enough to tell her their color shielded her pretty green eyes. While she wasn’t the type who made men catcall and whistle, I figured she was a good woman who’d be a good catch for someone out there. “I’ll bring you some aspirin too. Looks like you’ve had a long night.”

  She didn’t ask any questions or pry. She simply disappeared from sight while I heard the coffee pot going in the other room. I shut my eyes and replayed my evening over in my head.

  Molly.

  The blond bombshell across the street, was becoming a pain in the ass and unfortunately intriguing as well. When that rapping on my door startled me out of a dead sleep, I was ready to throw it open and tell whatever woman to get lost. I’d been so exhausted from the late nights this past week, and I was looking forward to a full night’s shuteye. Didn’t help I was a little groggier than normal after taking a few shots of whiskey to drag me under.

  It’s not that I wasn’t used to random women showing up on my doorstep looking for a good time. It had happened plenty of times. Women in this town knew me, and others came from neighboring areas to see if I lived up to the hype. I’d had all sorts of types stop by like one look of them and I wouldn’t be able to resist. I think some would be shocked that nine times out of ten, I usually turned them away. Last night was no exception. I simply wasn’t looking for the attention. But when I opened my door to see wild blond hair, wide blue eyes, a tiny trimmed waist and a plain white tank top that left nothing to my imagination, I was more fascinated than I was annoyed.

  The fact Molly said she’d planned on doing the remodel herself without the assistance of a general contractor or help left me scratching my head. Never in my thirty-five years had I come across a female who was so adept to be this independent. Most came kicking and screaming that their husbands thought they knew what they were doing. Somehow they fucked it up and now needed a real man to do the job. That’s where I came in.

  Truth be told, the house across the street had been an eyesore for the last five years, and it was either something that needed to be torn down or taken down to the studs and rebuilt. I’d looked into purchasing it myself not long ago. I thought it would be a good investment property that I could rent out. Location was perfect, and I had plenty of companies I u
sed out there that owed me a favor. I could have done it all cheaply. But it boiled down to the bank not budging on the price. I’m sure it was more of a personal decision than a professional one. I’d slept with the loan officer at the bank and she wasn’t so fond of me any longer. I decided it could be someone else’s headache.

  That headache, though, was clearly still mine.

  I picked up the warm ceramic cup and took a sip. It was still too hot and I burned my tongue. Waving my hand at her, “Let’s go.”

  “At eight-thirty, you have a teleconference with Ace Plumbing. Mr. Randall wants to discuss striking a long-term deal to be your go-to when you need work done at any of the sites.”

  I huffed. “Fat chance. That man still thinks there are unpaid invoices from two years ago and has yet to show me proof of this.”

  She moved on. “Ten o’clock, the Bernstein’s will be in to finalize the plans for their vacation home. At one you need to go down to the Port Angeles building department to get the new permits for the Metro Diner. But you might also need to stop at the bank to get a blank check just in case the owner hasn’t gone down to pay it yet. Justin never gave me a clear answer if he’d already stopped in to do it, or if it was coming out of the renovation budget. After that, you’ll need to race back here because you have a phone conference with your brother about him selling you his share of the company.”

  I groaned. “For shit’s sake. Are we still dealing with this? I thought we’d settled with him last month.”

  She curled in on herself, so I knew she was going to hit me with a blow. “You did, but”—she cleared her throat even though her voice got softer—“he decided he wanted more money, or you get less of a share.”

  I stood up so fast my chair nearly tipped over. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted. “What in the hell is his problem? He doesn’t even want this damn company.” I began pacing. “You’d think that being my brother the asshole would see that family is more important than the almighty dollar, but I guess not. He truly hated me. I wasn’t so certain I blamed him either. I wasn’t always particularly fond of me either.” I briefly wondered if I would have pulled the same move on him had the roles been reversed.