4. Leo
Chapter four
Leo
Present Day
The moment the toilet gurgled, I knew I was screwed.
Not in the fun way.
A second later, it erupted. Brown water geysered straight out of the bowl, splashing across my shirt, my face, and the custom white marble floor I couldn’t afford to think about, let alone damage.
“Jesus! Shit! So much shit!” I scrambled back while the tsunami of shit water filled the bathroom floor. I slipped on the polished tile and caught myself against the edge of the bathtub. The air reeked. My dignity evaporated.
Across the bathroom, a tiny Pomeranian in a pink rhinestone collar barked once—offended—then strutted out as if she paid the mortgage.
I peeled off my soaked work shirt, tossed it into my contractor bag, and grabbed a rag from my tool bucket to wipe my face and clean off my glasses. Just another Tuesday in paradise.
The job ran over, naturally, when you have to unexpectedly scrub shit off marble. By the time I finished, I smelled like a wastewater plant, my back was killing me, and I was already running behind on a favor I never should have agreed to.
I made a stop at my house to take a quick shower —which I managed to remove 90% of the shit smell off of me—then headed to my next destination.
As I cruised down the street, I reached for the passenger seat where my loyal bloodhound Moose sat licking himself.
“How you feeling, bud?”
He gave me a slow blink, eyes round and tired.
I slid my hand over his back, frowning when I felt the tremble in his hind leg again. He’d been limping on and off for weeks now, and the vet was pretty damn sure it was a torn ligament. Surgery was the best option. Unfortunately, surgery also meant six grand I didn’t have.
“Hang in there, big guy,” I murmured. “We’re just fixing one pipe, and we’ll head back home.”
Derrick’s house sat behind iron gates. When I punched in the code he texted me, the gate peeled open with a mechanical hum.
The driveway alone could’ve hosted a car show.
Moose hopped down stiffly and sniffed the manicured lawn while I hauled my tool bag over my shoulder.
The front door was already unlocked. Of course it was. When your place looked like a feature in Architectural Digest, you didn’t worry about break-ins. You had security cameras and hefty savings accounts to handle that.
Inside, the house was sterile and echoey. Open spaces, steel and glass, abstract paintings that probably had names. Cold. Everything about it felt cold.
I took off my boots and walked toward the kitchen, muttering under my breath. “Place looks like a damn art gallery, and the man still couldn’t fix a leaky pipe.”
I found the cabinet he’d described, placed my tool bag on the floor, and dropped to my knees, flashlight in hand.
The pipe was corroded. Not terrible, but enough to cause a slow drip that would’ve ruined the cabinet base eventually.
I laid out my tools and started unscrewing the joint when I heard the soft thump of nails.
Moose limped over, tail wagging.
“Hey, hey. Didn’t I tell you to stay in the living room?”
He sat down beside me anyway, letting out a quiet huff. His back leg trembled again. I swallowed hard.
“You’re trying to guilt me into selling a kidney, aren’t you?”
I leaned over and gently rubbed behind his ears. He sighed like an old man and laid his head on my thigh. The weight of him was grounding and heavy in the best way.
I didn’t need a calendar to know I was running out of time. He needed that surgery soon, or he’d be in real pain. The thought twisted something sharp in my gut.
Plumbers typically made a decent living. Unfortunately, when you worked for your dad’s small company and a large plumbing franchise set up shop nearby, work dried up fast.
Which meant taking any and every job I could get my hands on, including my brother’s.
I know what you're thinking. Why not just ask your brother for the money?
Not happening.
I’d rather get shit water sprayed in my face for a week.
The last thing I needed was Derrick dangling a loan over my head every chance he got. I’d rather earn the money the hard way.
Asking him for it outright?
Out of the question.
I worked faster. The wrench clanked against the pipe as I adjusted the seal. Derrick said he’d be home late. Fine by me. The sooner I finished, the sooner I could bounce without seeing him, have him Zelle me the payment, and put it toward Moose’s surgery.
I twisted the last valve into place, just as the front door burst open.
“You DICKLESS COWARD!”
Clack. Clack. THWACK.
A stiletto rocketed through the air and nailed me square on my ass. My head slammed against the underside of the sink.
“Shit!” I shouted, clutching my skull. “Ow—damn it!”
My vision pulsed. Something metallic rattled. My glasses ricocheted off my face. Moose barked once in protest before limp running out of the room, abandoning me to whatever this ambush was.
Fucking traitor.
“I swear to God, Derrick, if you think you can ghost me two weeks before Grace’s wedding, you'd better get fitted for a cast because I’m about to break something!”
“Jesus,” I muttered, still dazed. “What is with the shoe violence today?”
I frantically felt around for my glasses probably resembling Velma from Scooby Doo. Once I found them, I placed them on my face, then I wriggled out from under the cabinet, one hand pressed to my head. When I sat up, my vision cleared, and there she was.
Cherise Monet.
Shit.
All five feet of pure fire, standing in the middle of Derrick’s kitchen. Hair wild. Eyes blazing. Barefoot with her second heel in assault mode. She looked ready to end a man…and she thought that man was me.
We locked eyes.
Her mouth dropped.
“Oh my God.”
I blinked through the headache. “Hey, Cherise.”
She took a step back. “You’re not Derrick.”
“Nope, just his concussed twin brother.”
She gasped. “Damn, Leo, it's been years since I’ve seen you. What's up with that?”
Well, maybe because I’ve had the biggest crush on you since high school, and the mere thought of seeing you with my brother was enough to make me vomit.
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Life was lifing.”
Life was lifing? What kind of sorry-ass excuse was that?
She raised a brow. “Ummm hmmm, I guess so.”
Her gaze darted down to the sink tools, then back to my face, nearly identical to Derrick’s, minus the smug energy and suspiciously perfect eyebrows.
She cleared her throat. “I’m um…sorry about the shoe. Are you bleeding?”
“Emotionally,” I deadpanned.
Cherise’s hands landed on her hips. “Well, maybe don’t sit there all Derrick-faced when your brother just texted me a breakup paragraph that read like a TED Talk on why I’m too much.”
I paused. “Wait—he broke up with you? Over text?”
Leave it to my brother to take the cowardly way out—such a dick move.
Her jaw flexed. “He said I’m too intense. That he needs someone with poise.”
I snorted. “Poise? That’s rich, coming from a guy who once got kicked out of a wedding for cussing out the coat check guy over improper hanger etiquette.”
She chuckled. “Okay, that actually helps.”
“Happy to contribute.”
We stood in awkward silence for a beat. The only sound was my pulse still banging around in my skull.
Moose returned as though nothing happened, casually limping over and pressing his oversized head against Cherise’s thigh.
She raised a brow and looked down at him. “Oh, now you wanna come back? Coast is clear, huh?” She gave his ears a quick scratch. “Definitely not an attack dog, that’s for sure.”
Moose let out a groan and flopped beside her, all innocent, as though he hadn’t just bailed on me mid-battle.
Cherise crouched down next to him; her expression softened. “What’s wrong with him? Why is he limping?”
I cleared my throat and wiped my hands on a rag. “Torn ligament. Needs surgery.”
Her gaze snapped back at me. “That sounds expensive.”
“It is. Six grand to be exact. I’ve been saving. One busted pipe at a time. I’m down to the last thousand.”
“That’s rough.”
I gave a half-shrug. “He’s worth it.”
Moose sighed again, his tail thumping on the floor, clearly aware we were talking about him.
“Poor baby,” she murmured. “You look like you're holding it together though, or just doing a damn good job pretending?”
“I mean, aside from the potential concussion, the vet bills, and having my pride taken out by a shoe? I’m peachy.”
A slow smile tugged at her lip. “I can’t believe I thought you were Derrick,” she said, rising. “I should have known the second I walked in from the lack of cologne and bullshit.”
“Yeah, I come in smelling like shit after the last toilet catastrophe, but at least I’m emotionally available.”
She snorted and crossed her arms. “You’re funny.”
I shrugged. “You used to say that in high school, too.”
Her eyes widened. “You remember?”
“Of course I do.”
Something passed between us, something quiet and sharp-edged. Then her phone buzzed. She reached for it, muttered “Speak of the devil,” and rolled her eyes as she read it. “This man really said, “You’d be exhausting to bring to a work dinner.”
I winced. “Yikes.”
“Oh, it gets better.” She held it up. “‘I need someone who complements my success with grace, not volume.’”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s a fancy way of saying you talk too much.”
“Too bad he forgot I was the one who helped him build half of that success. I referred clients to him like I was getting commission.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Well, if it makes you feel better, he called me last week because his garbage disposal was making angry blender noises. Doesn’t really scream emergency contact material if you ask me.” I shrugged. “Could be for the best.”
Cherise’s face cracked.
A laugh burst out of her. I grinned, despite the headache.
Moose barked once, tail still thumping.
I turned back to my tools, heart thudding a little harder than I liked. Whatever happened between her and Derrick? I wasn’t about to get in the middle of it.
Her phone buzzed again, and she put it in her pocket.
She glanced down, then back at me with a tight smile. Without a word, she turned and crossed the kitchen. She yanked open the wine cabinet, inspected a few labels, then grabbed the most expensive bottle in there.
I watched her in astonishment. “You’re really about to open his Pomerol?”
She didn’t flinch. Popped the cork like a pro.
“It’s the least he can do for leaving me stranded and dateless for the biggest wedding of my life.” She took a long sip straight from the bottle.
“Or you could, I don’t know, just… take someone else?”
Cherise turned, one hand on her hip, bottle still in the other.
“Oh, sure, let me just grab a backup man from the pantry. Leo, I’ve already told everyone how obsessed he is with me and paraded his face around like a damn trophy.
Now I’m supposed to roll up with some rando who looks nothing like the guy in all the pics?
” She shook her head. “Savage-annah would feast on that.”
“Savage—what now?”
“Savannah. Remember her? Cheerleader. Mean as hell. Hated me in high school and somehow got herself promoted to bridesmaid.”
I nodded slowly, pieces clicking into place. Savannah. “Yep. I remember her.”
Cherise stared at me, gears visibly turning behind her lashes. “Unless…” Her gaze narrowed, her eyes scanning my body way too slowly for my comfort.
“Unless what?”
“It wouldn’t be humiliating if I still brought Derrick on the trip.”
I raised a brow. “Pretty sure he made it clear he’s not going.”
“No,” she said, stepping dangerously close. “Not him.” Vanilla and ambition hit my nose. Something thudded—and it wasn’t my heart. I took a step back, then realized what she was implying.
“Oh, hell, no.”
“You look just like him!” she pleaded. “Same face. Same height. Slightly less uptight energy. Honestly, you’d be a crowd favorite. The trip is already paid for. You wouldn’t have to spend a penny.”
I held up a hand. “Absolutely not. I am not pretending to be my brother for a week-long destination wedding. Not to mention the simple fact that you’re my brother's ex! Cherise, are you insane?”
“Leo, please!” She clasped her hands together. “We wouldn’t even have to do anything inappropriate. You’d just have to exist and not blow my cover. It’s basic damage control!”
I shook my head. “Nope. Sorry. Not happening.”
She looked down at my feet. “I’ll buy you new work boots,” she tried. “The waterproof kind. With gel insoles.”
“Still no,” I said, packing my wrench back into my tool bag.
“I’ll throw in a gift card to that overpriced sandwich shop. The one that puts truffle aioli on everything.”
I crossed my arms. “Do I look like a fat ass that could be persuaded by food?”
Her eyes scanned the room, landing on Moose, who was now sprawled like a rug with his bad leg tucked awkwardly.
Her lips curled. “I’ll pay for the rest of his surgery.”
I froze.
She tilted her head, cocky as hell. “Yeah. Thought so.”
“You don’t play fair,” I muttered.
“I play desperate,” she countered. “There’s a difference.”
I dragged a hand over my face. “Cherise—”
She was already heading for the door. “I’ll give you time to think about it,” she called over her shoulder. “The trip’s in two weeks. Who turns down a free vacation to Hawaii?”
Almost out the door, she turned back. “Oh, and tell Derrick his days are numbered. I hope you like being an only child.”
The door slammed behind her.
Moose let out a low groan and rolled onto his side.
“Unbelievable,” I mumbled. “I can’t believe she weaponized my dog.”