Chapter Ten
Chapter
Ten
Carrying a handful of flyers bound for the recycling bin, I took a detour to the basement laundry room, where I’d left my clothes swishing in the washing machine.
There was only one laundry room for the entire building, with four washers and four dryers.
That might have been a sufficient—or at least passable—number of machines, if all of them actually worked.
At the moment, we had two functioning washers and one dryer that actually dried.
Of course, that particular dryer was already in use and had nearly thirty minutes left on the timer.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to come to a decision as my basket of wet clothes sat at my feet. I could come back down and use the dryer later, or I could hang up my clothes to dry in the apartment.
The buzzing fluorescent lights flickered, nearly extinguishing completely before valiantly fighting their way back to life. Something creaked elsewhere in the basement and…was that a squeak? Like a rodent squeak? Decision made.
I grabbed my basket and hightailed it out of there. Air-drying was better for the planet anyway. And staying out of a horror movie was better for my life expectancy.
Once I’d set up my two rickety laundry racks in the kitchen and had hung my clothes to dry, I turned my attention to my main goal of the day. I opened the cupboard under the kitchen sink and peered inside. The dripping water plunked into the nearly full bucket with a slow but steady beat.
Did I need a wrench? I wasn’t sure. Some of the rings on the pipes looked like they could be tightened with my bare hands, but there were other parts that looked a little trickier.
Fortunately, being an independent woman, I had my own toolbox, complete with basic tools. It was a gift from my dad when I moved into my first apartment after I graduated from college.
With a wrench in hand, I felt like I could conquer the world. One leaky pipe would be no problem. But before I had a chance to wriggle my way under the sink, someone knocked on the door. Jemma, as it turned out.
“Aren’t you working today?” I asked as I returned to the kitchen, still armed with my wrench.
“I start in an hour, but I wanted to come by here first.” She held up the burner phone. “I forgot to leave this with you.”
I sat down on the floor with my back to the sink and lowered myself onto my elbows. “I don’t suppose Hoffman called?”
I had low hopes for the success of our plan.
“Not Hoffman…”
I scooted backward until my head was in the cupboard, below the pipes.
“What are you doing?” Jemma asked.
“Fixing the leak.”
“Why didn’t you get Freddie to fix it when he was alive? That thing’s been dripping for weeks.”
“Have Freddie in my apartment alone with me?” I suppressed a shudder. “No, thanks. The guy was a sleazebag. Besides, I’ve totally got this.”
“Maybe you should leave your plumbing ambitions for another time. And do you really want your place looking like a lingerie store?”
“Someone’s already using the only working dryer,” I explained as I examined the pipes.
I heard a sigh from Jemma, and then her heels clicked as she crossed the parquet floor.
“I’m going to do you a favor, hon,” she said from somewhere across the room.
Rustling noises followed. I was about to ask what she was up to when someone knocked on the door.
Somehow, I managed not to bump my head as I maneuvered myself out of the cupboard.
Jemma had left the apartment door open, giving me an instant view of Wyatt standing there, looking like a living advertisement for Hotties “R” Us.
I dropped the wrench with a clang.
Wyatt glanced down at himself. “Do I look that bad?”
A high-pitched, hysterical laugh escaped from me as I struggled to get to my feet. I didn’t even care that I probably looked as ungainly as a hippopotamus, because all I could think about was my colorful array of underwear on display on one of the two laundry racks.
“No! Of course not! You don’t look bad!” I was babbling now, but I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. “You look hot!”
Wait—did I really say that out loud?
My cheeks heated. “No, not hot!”
“No?”
My face flamed. I whirled around and took in the sight of the laundry racks. One had jeans and tops draped over the bars while the other had nothing but a few pairs of socks hanging from it.
Jemma cleared her throat, and my gaze bounced over to where she stood near the bathroom door, a slight smirk on her face. I knew in that moment that my bestie had saved me from mortification.
Jemma’s smirk transformed into her most charming smile as she crossed the small living room to greet Wyatt. “Definitely hot,” she said as she offered him her hand.
I stifled a groan. I really had said it out loud.
“I’m Jemma.”
Wyatt shook her hand. “Wyatt.”
“Oh, I know.” She released his hand as she eyed him up and down. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Hold on. What?” My brain scrambled to piece things together. “You knew he was coming?”
Jemma held up the burner phone again and gave it a little wiggle. “Wyatt has something he’d like to discuss with you, so I arranged a meeting.”
“Is this a bad time?” Wyatt asked. “I didn’t realize you weren’t expecting me.”
“What could we possibly have to discuss?” I asked instead of answering his question.
Jemma pressed the burner phone into my hand. “As much as I’d like to stay, I need to get to work. I’m sure the two of you can get along fine without me.”
“Nice to meet you,” Wyatt said as Jemma sailed toward the door.
“Likewise,” she said with a smile. As soon as she was behind Wyatt, she fanned herself and mouthed, So hot!
Then she was gone.
And I was alone with Wyatt.