9. Jordan #3
“Damn faucet’s leaking again,” Arthur barked. “Had the same problem two weeks ago. The kid they sent to fix it spent more time on his phone than he did on the sink. Probably used chewing gum to fix it.”
“Maybe Jordan can take a look at it,” Cam said.
I looked at him in confusion, but he just smiled. “Like you did at the bar last night. Didn’t you say they called you for a plumbing issue?”
“Oh, really?” Doris clapped her hands. “That would be just wonderful. Jordan, sweetheart, if you can get this thing to stop leaking, I will double your fee. Triple it, even.”
My stomach sank. Those fucking waders were going to be the death of me. But there was no way to explain now that I’d lied last night without sounding completely nuts, and possibly sociopathic.
“Maybe I shouldn’t touch it if you have an HOA,” I said. “They might have rules about which tradespeople they use for these jobs.”
Arthur snorted. “You can’t be any worse than the last guy they sent.”
“We’ll just get out of your way,” Doris said, backing away from the sink and bringing Arthur’s chair with her.
“I’ll go grab Grandpa’s toolbox.” Cam brushed past me and headed down the hall.
There was nothing for it. I was going to have to fix this sink. That, or run out of here, hop a plane, change my name, and move to New Zealand, never to be heard from again. Those were my only two options.
I walked over to it slowly. Turned the taps on and off. Stared at it while tapping my finger to my lips like I was thinking deep, important plumbing thoughts.
It did, indeed, drip, and I was pretty sure the sweat dripping down my back was falling in time with it.
“Here you go,” Cam said, coming up behind me again.
He really needed to stop doing that—both startling me, and standing so close in general. His body was only inches from mine, and I could feel the heat rolling off it. If I backed up just one, maybe two inches, I could grind my ass against him.
Not that I should be thinking anything of the sort. My cock was starting to wake up, and it didn’t need any dangerous ideas.
“Thanks,” I said faintly.
I flipped open the dark green toolbox and pulled out a screwdriver. There were some screws in the back of the faucet. Maybe if I undid those and poked around a little, I could say it was a design I’d never seen before, and tell them to send for an expert.
“Aren’t you going to turn the water off first?” Cam said, sounding slightly alarmed.
I looked at him blankly. The taps were turned off. What was he talking about?
Then I realized he was gesturing towards the cabinet underneath the sink. Come to think of it, Levi had said something similar yesterday, when the sink at The Roastery had been geysering. I hadn’t really paid attention, but in my defense, I hadn’t realized I’d be cosplaying a plumber that weekend.
“Right. Of course.”
My cheeks hot, I dropped to my knees and stuck my head under the cabinet. I pushed bottles of dish detergent and cleaner out of the way and stared at the mess of pipes and tubes that connected the sink basin to the wall. How the hell was I supposed to know which knob or valve turned the water off?
Feeling dumber by the second, I waved my hand around, yanking on various coils, and then called out, “You know what? I think it’s stuck. You probably should call a professional and—”
“Cam, sweetheart, can you see if you can help him?” Doris said. “You’re strong.”
At least with my head inside the cabinet, no one could see how red my cheeks were. Be thankful for small mercies, I reminded myself. But that gratitude turned to mortification as Cam knelt down behind me, his crotch practically pressed to my ass.
Sure, it was a small space, but did he have to position himself like he was about to fuck me doggy-style? Forget waking up—my cock had just mainlined five Red Bulls and was begging me to make some seriously bad decisions.
“Sorry,” Cam murmured. He leaned forward, his broad chest stroking past my lower back. “I know it’s a little crowded. Where’s the shut-off?”
“It’s just—” I waved my hand in a non-committal circle, because a) I had no fucking clue and b) my mind was occupied with more important concerns, like how close his dick was to my ass.
“Oh, there, I see it.”
He reached out, grabbing a knob I hadn’t noticed before. Which would have been fine, if the motion hadn’t thrust his hips forward, grinding into me from behind.
And if I hadn’t, you know, moaned.
Not even softly. I moaned loudly. Audibly. And for some self-destructive reason, I didn’t just moan, I pushed back against him, feeling for his cock with my ass, until he jumped back with a strangled yelp.
Holy balls, I needed to get out of there.
I scrambled backwards on hands and knees, but not as fast as Cam did. He was already standing, backing away from the sink, when I got to my feet. He flexed his hands, then wiped them off on his thighs like he was trying to get rid of grease.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face. Couldn’t look at Doris or Arthur either. I just tossed the screwdriver onto the counter and backpedaled towards the door.
“I’m sorry, I have to—that is, I just remembered, I need to—you should just—I’m—yeah.”
I stepped onto the patio and took off running, not looking back.