Chapter 10—Aspen #2
“It’s stuck, Connor,” Aspen growled in frustration in her attempt to budge the knob’s position. “It won’t move.”
“Use both hands,” Connor instructed her calmly, as if asking her if she wanted ranch dressing on her salad. “Try one more time.”
“Accck! It. Won’t. Turn.”
“Hold up. Come back up here and grab the bowl so I can get to the valve.”
“Okay,” Aspen grunted. She backed out from beneath the counter and slid her body up the same path it took on its downward trek.
She knew stopping the water flow was the priority, but couldn’t help the delicious way her body hummed while gliding against Connor’s muscles.
In fact, she nearly forgot all about the water as she watched the muscles of Connor’s shoulders and upper back pulse and ripple once he made his way to the floor and easily twisted the valve to the off position, instantly stopping the flow of water.
Trying to use slow, steady breathing to calm her racing heart that had only a little bit to do with the water fiasco and much more with the blonde-haired giant who once again came to her rescue.
Although she was soaked deeper than her Amaretto-soaked sponge cake, she felt like she might combust on the spot.
Aspen concentrated on the bowl-covered broken faucet as if it held the secrets of the universe. She needed a bit of cover while she worked to control her emotions and her rapidly beating heart.
“You can let go now, BB,” Connor chuckled, then gently removed her hands and set the metal bowl on the counter.
Connor offered a small smile, even though she knew he worked very hard to lift his lips that high. It warmed her heart like a thousand suns that he’d try to comfort her, let alone sail in and serve as her Viking fitted in lamellar armor.
That sun quickly dimmed, however, when she spied the water pooled on the floor, covering the counters and yes, even drenching her batch of ‘Champagne Toast’ vanilla cupcakes.
“What a mess,” Aspen sighed.
And just like that, all of the wicked images of her fantasy Viking were erased from her mind.
“Nothing that a wrench and a few dozen towels can’t fix,” he explained.
To prove his point, Connor grabbed a towel hanging on a nearby hook and softly dabbed the water that had collected on Aspen’s cheeks and chin.
Aspen’s eyes widened at the care he took to gently press the towel against the apple of her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, and her lips that parted at his intimate caresses.
His face reset to the serious look he usually projected. Aspen felt as if he worked to memorize the shape of her face, down to the handful of wild red curls that slipped from their locked position in her massive bun atop her head and tumbled in ringlets past her shoulders and lower.
She shifted on her feet and swayed at Connor’s touch and felt another burst of sogginess seep through her soaked shoes. The icky squish promptly reminded Aspen of her water problem.
“Thanks, Connor,” she grabbed the towel and swiped it across her face in hopes that it ceased the crackle that zapped between them. “I’ll grab the mop and get started on this cleanup. You wouldn’t happen to know a plumber who might respond after hours to fix this sink, would you?”
“I might know a guy,” he stated simply and reached past her, touching the indentation of her waist and brushing against her shoulder as he leaned down to check under the sink.
His innocuous actions let loose a battalion of butterflies in her belly in the process.
“Seems to me you must’ve had issues with this faucet in the past because there was this gem on one of the shelves beneath the sink. ”
Standing upright, and looking down into Aspen’s eyes, he wiggled a new faucet in its plastic cover between them.
“There was a faucet down there? My parents must have had it for a long time and never got around to changing it when they had the shop.”
“I don’t know who left it there, but you certainly don’t look a gift horse—or plumbing need—in the mouth. I can change out the hardware, no problem. I just happened to have driven my truck over, so I have my tools to make the fix before the water dries on the floor.”
“I don’t know what to say, Connor.”
“Nothing to say, BB. You need a fix, and I’m your guy.”
So why did Aspen’s traitorous mind slip to a wicked double entendre, and by fix, thoughts of Connor kissing her senseless came to mind.
“You with me, BB?” Connor asked, and slipped his thumb under her chin to lift her face upward so he could examine her.
Eyes glazed over, Aspen worked to gain control over her crazed, sex-starved mind. “Yes, please. Please fix my sink.”
Connor left the shop and returned with a battered blue toolbox labeled plumbing written across a piece of tape near the lid’s handle.
The two of them worked on separate tasks in silence; Wolfe removing the broken hardware and Aspen mopping the floor.
Aspen had to remind herself to focus on her cleanup and not Connor’s sexy legs covered in dark denim as he laid on his back to make the faucet connections under the sink.
“You have any music, BB? It’s awfully quiet in here,” Connor chirped from his spot under the sink.
Aspen spied one last look at Connor’s trim waist that burst into a massive vee of muscle that comprised his chest.
“What are you thinking?” Aspen asked, grabbing her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and began pursuing her phone’s music app. She scrolled to see if she had any playlists for hard rock or classic rock or punk rock, thinking that would be his style.
“Anything really. Maybe some Bach or Vivaldi. Anything Baroque will do.
Knock her over with a cupcake liner, could this man be any more intriguing?
“You like classical music?”
After a few moments, Connor contorted his body so he peered out at her from his place under the sink. His look incredulous. “Who doesn’t like classical music? Tchaikovsky. Mozart. All amazing.”
“Oh, okay. I just assumed you like classical rock music based on your penchant for t-shirts featuring seventies rock bands.”
Stunned at another fascinating facet of the man who bulldozed his way into her life, Aspen found a playlist on the phone and strings from some stirring classical piece filled the bakery as sweetly as the aroma from the batches of cupcakes she baked each day.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, or t-shirt, BB,” Connor said while using a wrench to tighten connections under the sink.
Shortly after, all traces from the water were dried and a new faucet gleamed with pride atop the sink.
Storing her cleaning supplies, Aspen returned to join Connor at the basin where he’d washed the bowls that still needed cleaning. The towel slung over his shoulder was one of the sexiest sites she’d seen and it stole her breath.
Taking the towel from his shoulder, she finished drying her baking instruments while Connor drained the sink. “I don’t even know what to say, Connor. A mere thank you seems so pathetic for all you did for me today. Can I pay you?”
“Enough with that,” Connor gave her a droll stare. “No need to thank me, or pay me, BB.”
“On the contrary,” Aspen turned and touched his forearms so he’d understand how appreciative she was for his unending generosity. “Without you stopping by, I’d be knee-deep in water before I figured out how to stop the flow.”
“Well, let’s just say my excellent timing on the ice extends to other areas of my life,” he offered her a sultry stare before turning his attention back to the bin that held his tools.
Annnnd Aspen’s mind immediately spiraled to ‘excellent timing’ she was certain he possessed in other places... like the bedroom. She’d bet the down payment on her next oven that Connor would be a lover who’d ensure her pleasure before attaining his own.
“Stop it, you idiot.”
“Stop what?” Connor stood to his full height holding a white paper bag.
“Nothing.” Aspen gave her forehead a smack to provide an instant dose of reality.
“Uh, why I really came by today was to say sorry for the other night,” Connor stumbled over his words, clutching the paper bag so tight Aspen feared the hidden contents might burst under his granite-hard grip. “Dinner didn’t turn out like I planned. At all. And, uh, I just want to give you this.”
Suddenly uncertain, he thrust the bag at Aspen so quickly she had to fumble to keep it from dropping to the floor.
“What’s this?”
When Connor didn’t respond, Aspen carefully opened the package and spied several tubes of edible cake glitter and other fancy cupcake toppers in a variety of gorgeous colors and styles.
“Like I said, our dinner wasn’t what it should have been.”
“These are amazing, Connor,” her eyes zipped upward to capture his anxious gaze. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I did,” he said simply.
At his touch, Aspen’s insides were as sugary as the gourmet glitter and cupcake confections he bought for her.