Chapter 8
SAGE
The last thing I needed today was a burst water pipe in Aunt Mabel’s cellar. I’d already gotten three more voicemails from Jackson and another text, and even though it was in all caps, he was forgettable.
SAGE CALL ME
I’d gotten back to her place–where I was staying while she was in rehab–and heard water running. At first, I thought maybe I’d left the water on in the bathroom sink this morning because I’d been so distracted. But it wasn’t that.
I followed the sound down the wooden stairs to discover a pipe connected to the hot water heater had burst, probably from the bitter cold that had settled in overnight, spraying water like a Roman fountain.
It must’ve been leaking for a while because water covered the floor.
I had to slosh through six inches of it to hunt around for the water main shutoff.
When I finally did, the cellar went quiet.
I shivered. Tried to figure out what to do.
“Shit,” I muttered, knowing nothing about home repairs. I’d have to find a plumber and hopefully they knew a restoration service, one with a pump to drain out all the water.
None of Aunt Mabel’s furniture, flooring or cabinetry on the main floor was damaged, but this previously dank, dark space now had a pond in it.
The doorbell rang and I looked up, as if I could see who was there through the floor above me.
I sloshed through the water, went up the stairs and answered the door.
Buck.
“What are you doing here?”
He looked me over. Probably saw the distress on my face, and my sopping wet shoes and ankles. I was so ridiculously pleased to see him. Sure, I wanted more of what he’d done to me in Aunt Mabel’s office and whatever might come next, but that would have to wait. He’d have to come back later.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, instead of answering my question.
I sighed. It was freezing outside, but it wasn’t all that warm in Aunt Mabel’s house either. I stepped back and let him in as I explained. “There’s a burst pipe in the cellar. I turned off the water main, but it’s a mess down there.”
His gaze widened, then he clenched his jaw, nodded. “Which way?”
I pointed behind me and with a determined look, he made his way into the cellar, his boots clomping on the steps as he went. He stopped on the last tread, hands on the railing, taking in the situation.
“Shit,” he muttered, then pulled out his cell.
I stood a few steps above him, watching.
“Curtis, hey, yeah, it’s Buck Wilder. Got a busted pipe to a hot water heater. Flooded basement. Yeah. Yeah. It is. Right. Okay. 916 Birch. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
They spoke for a minute and I dropped down onto the step.
When he put his phone away, he turned to me and we were at eye level.
He set his hands on the railing on either side of me so our faces were close.
I hadn’t had my shower yet–I definitely wasn’t now with the water turned off–and I was sure I smelled like French fries, but either Buck really liked them or didn’t care.
His scruff had grown in since this morning and I wondered how it would feel against my inner thighs. His flannel was untucked beneath his jacket and there was some kind of grease stain on the thigh of his jeans.
“Curtis is a friend of mine,” he explained. “Runs a plumbing business. He’ll fix that pipe and get a pump down here to get the water out. Fans, too. But since the bottom of the furnace is submerged in water, there’s not going to be any heat. And a bigger problem.”
“A bigger problem than all this?” I wondered, noticing the washer and dryer in the corner. They might be salvageable.
“Carbon monoxide,” he said. “It’s not safe in this house right now. He’ll get the gas turned off, but an HVAC person will have to come out and see if Mabel needs a whole new furnace.”
“Right. Okay,” I said. What else was there to say?
I’d never thought about carbon monoxide poisoning because of a burst pipe, but it made sense.
At least Mabel wasn’t here and wasn’t supposed to be out of rehab for at least two weeks.
But all that meant I couldn’t stay here either.
I shifted from one soggy foot to the other. “I um… I guess I’ll go to a–”
“My place.”
I frowned. “What?”
His eyes held mine, then dropped to my lips. “You’re staying with me.”
“Wh–”
He reached out, stroked my hair back. “Don’t ask why, sweetheart. We know why.” Leaning in further, he kissed my lips. Even softer and sweeter than in the diner earlier. “Got a little project to work on, don’t we?”