5. Ryan
Since it’s just me again on the job, and I promised Lanie I wouldn’t run any power tools until eight, I don’t bother showing up until seven-thirty.
One of the perks of managing my own crew is setting my own hours.
Though I’d rather get the job started and be done with my day, I stop for some coffee at one of the drive-thru stands on my way to work.
Unloading the scaffolding near the deck, I decide I’ll tackle the top of the weathered wall I’d started yesterday. I managed to clear everything under the eave, but I can’t wait any longer to do the top.
Just as I set the last bit of frame alongside the house, a blood-curdling scream comes from within.
Holy shit. That’s Lanie.
Racing around the side of the house, I jump up the steps and I’m at the door in no time, where the screams only get louder .
“Stop… Oh, shit… NO… NO… NO!!!”
What the fuck?
Without knocking, I reach for my key and have the door opened in seconds.
“Lanie?” I holler, breaching the house.
“In here…” comes a desperate cry.
It takes all of two steps inside to witness the fiasco ensuing.
What the fuck?
Lanie’s ineffectively holding a towel in front of her to keep the water from spraying herself as well as the entire kitchen. Oh, shit, the faucet’s broken at the handle and the water’s hitting her at full force.
Springing into action, I’m careful not to slip as I scurry to turn off the water at the cutoff valve. The sink is fairly new, but the plumbing underneath isn’t. Christ, this sucker won’t budge.
“Hang on!” I holler as I dart outside to grab a wrench from my toolbox and try again.
“This fucker doesn’t wanna move,” I grunt in frustration as water continues to assault the room from above.
Trying a new angle, I use the full force of my weight until finally—it turns.
The streaming water from above slows. The moment it shuts off, I hear Lanie let out a deep breath.
As I emerge from under the sink, it’s then I notice her long muscular legs standing beside me. She’s at least got pants on—if you consider sleep shorts pants. But compared to yesterday, it’s better than nothing .
However, her light pink tank is drenched and does nothing to conceal her erect nipples.
I do my best to avert my eyes.
But I’m a guy.
I notice her beautiful pert breasts standing at attention. If dry, the fabric would do its job, but wet—yeah—that leaves little to the imagination.
And she has perfect breasts.
Round, plump, and more than a handful.
I am so fucking screwed.
“Ohmigod, thank you,” she gushes as she rushes to a cabinet to get some towels. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“No problem,” I offer instinctually. Noting there aren’t nearly enough towels, I offer, “Where are the bathroom towels?”
“In the hall, second door on the right,” she says, pointing off to the kitchen.
Darting in that direction, I hear her add, “I’m so glad you got here, I tried to turn off the valve but it wouldn’t budge. I was just about to give up and go look for a tool chest when you barged in. I can’t thank you enough for showing up when you did.”
“Let’s get this cleaned up then inspect the damage. If you want, I’ll fix it first thing this morning,” I offer, dropping to my knees to soak up the small lake that’s formed in the kitchen.
Shit. There’s a lot of water here. How long had this been gushing?
When she’s quiet and doesn’t move I glance her way .
She hesitantly looks from the sink to me, then back to the sink before asking, “You sure?”
Nodding, I get back to work before too much damage is done. “What do you think general contractors are for?”
“Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?”
“Nope. Do you happen to have a wet/dry vac? It might be easier than sopping this mess up with towels.”
Looking toward the garage, she hesitates. “I have no idea. But I’ll check.”
With a limited amount of towels, I make quick work of scooping up a sopping wet one, quickly wring out the excess water, then throw it on the floor to keep the water contained. It may be a vain attempt, but as I scurry between towels, I hope like hell it soaks up more water in the process.
When the door to the garage bangs open with a giant shop vac in her hands, Lanie huffs, “I’ve got this. Will it work?”
Relieved, I rush to her. “Absolutely. Let’s make sure it’s empty and the filter’s off before we put this sucker to work.” Feeling its weight, I ask, “Do you have a garbage bag?”
Rushing to the sink, she grabs a large trash bag.
I empty the contents and filter and within minutes, and water’s finally coming off the floor.
With the roar of the machine, between us, we wordlessly work together.
She keeps the mess from spreading by taking my lead from before and wringing out the towels and creating barriers to contain the excess water around us.
The moment I click off the machine, my ears ring in the silence, though I manage to hear Lanie exhale as if she’s exhausted. “Ah… thank God, this is almost over. ”
As I reach for a towel, my arm brushes against hers and I quickly mutter, “Sorry,” when I see her shiver in response.
Standing with a puzzled expression she asks, “What the hell do you have to be sorry for? You literally just saved my house from being flooded.” She slowly looks me over from head to toe before adding, “If anything, I’m the one that should be apologizing.
You and I are both soaked to the bone. Please tell me you at least have a change of clothes nearby. ”
“Uh, I can’t say it’s real close, but my place is just outside of town—so is anything really that far in Seaside? I’ll swing by and change before heading to get a faucet.”
I really hope I brought another pair of boots with me for the summer because these will be miserable to wear the rest of the day. Maybe if I set them out in the sun, they’ll dry before I return to the job site.
Lanie glances at the clock on the stove and groans as she gathers the towels from the sink. “Shoot. I’ve gotta get ready for work. Do you think it will be okay to take a shower and wash this load of towels or is the water gonna be turned off?”
Chuckling at the disgruntled expression on her face, I assure her. “You’ll be fine. The water is only turned off at the sink. If I need to shut off the main, I’ll do it when you’re done.”
Shaking her head, she grumbles, “I may as well wash what I can of these, so I can shower and get to work on time. I hope to God there are towels upstairs, or I’m screwed.” Loading her arms with wet towels, she awkwardly carries them so they’re a safe distance from her body.
Yeah, it’s best I don’t respond to that comment. There’s no way I want her day to be worse than it’s started. Seeing she can’t take all the towels in one trip, I load up my own arms with the rest and follow her to the laundry room.
She quickly shoves her load in the wash and turns to mine. “I’d better wash more than one load. Just throw those in the utility sink and I’ll do it later.”
Slipping past her, I do as she says.
As I turn to exit the laundry room, she turns at the same time in my direction. She startles at our closeness but then freezes and her eyes remain pinned to the center of my soaked chest. When she doesn’t move or say anything I break the now uncomfortable silence with, “Lanie? You okay?”
Shaking her head, she quickly inhales. “Yeah. Just… lost for a moment.”
“Okay…” I draw out, wondering what’s going on in that head of hers.
When her eyes slowly rise to meet mine she says, “Thanks again…” Her voice is raspy so she clears it. “For your help, that is. Are you sure you have time to fix that sink today? I really can call someone else.”
“There’s no need to hire anyone when I can easily do the repair job.”
Rolling her lip between her teeth she looks to our feet before returning to meet my gaze. “But I’m not sure what Nana’s prepaid you. Will you let me know the cost so I can figure out a way to pay you?”
Christ, is that what she’s worried about?
“Look. I’ll add it to the bill and if it puts us over our budget, I’ll let you know as we finish the project and we can work things out then. It won’t be too much to add a faucet to the project we’re already involved with.”
“Okay. But you’ll tell me before you come even close to going over budget, right?”
“Of course.” Though it won’t be a problem.
Maybe my immediate agreement to her demand throws her off because she suddenly clamps her mouth into a straight line and nods once.
When she still doesn’t move, I ask, “Are we good then?”
Crossing her arms over her chest she nods once and turns on a dime and returns to the kitchen only to look at the clock and groan. “Shit. I can’t be late today.”
Apologetically, she somehow smiles. “I really gotta run. Text me if you need anything, okay?”
“Same with you,” I pointedly remind her. “I’m just glad I got here when I did, or there’d be even more damage.”
“Ugg… don’t remind me.”
“I’ll head out now and see what we can get in terms of faucets. I might need to run into Warden or Astoria to get something similar. Will you be here when I return?”
Shaking her head, she shrugs. “Nah. I’ll be working until way after you get off.”
Nodding once in agreement, I walk toward the door. Pulling it open, I pause and holler to get her attention, “Hey, Lanie?”
“Yeah?” She pauses with one foot on the staircase.
“Good luck with your first day of work. I’m sure all the crazy shit is behind you.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn and walk out the door.