Chapter Two
The Sweet family home was impressive. Aiden especially liked the kitchen. Spacious, clean, sunny, and the best coffee north of Colombia.
Alice stood at the sink, scrubbing at a pan that looked awfully clean to him already. “Did you sleep all right?”
“More than all right.” He meant it. The bed alone had been an event after weeks of institutional mattresses.
He was about to say something else when he heard it.
A low, distant sound. Hollow. Like water moving somewhere it shouldn’t be.
He set the mug down and listened. Finished with the dishes, Alice turned to refill his cup, and like sitting in the doctor’s office and suddenly all your symptoms disappear, for now, the sound was gone again.
This morning he’d said goodbye to Kade and Josh.
The two men’s leave was only long enough to deposit Aiden at the ranch, catch a few Zs, then head back to the base.
Standing on the porch, waving goodbye had seemed utterly surreal.
The expansive yard, the gravel drive that seemed to go on forever, the blue skies without a single dab of white clouds.
The entire scene was strangely odd for a guy from the Bronx who grew up cooling off from the summer heat with friends under the waterfall of an open fire hydrant.
For the next short while, conversation lingered. Talk of pastures, cows, horses, a big fundraiser Mrs. Sweet was all excited about, and God’s design when the family matriarch turned on the tap to rinse her hands.
There it was again. He turned his head toward the wall beside the sink. Aiden set his cup down slowly. Listening intently. It wasn’t a toilet at all. “Mrs. Sweet.”
“I’ve told you, call me Alice.” She spun around to face him, a dish towel in hand and paused. “You’re frowning. Are you in pain? Should I call Kade back?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine, but do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Turn on the faucet.”
One brow lifted, but she humored him. Setting down the towel, she did as requested.
Yep, he nodded to himself. “There’s a leak.” He waved a hand at the sink. “From the sound of it, somewhere in that wall. Every time you turn on the faucet, I hear water moving where it shouldn’t be.”
Alice turned off the faucet and stared at it as though it had personally betrayed her. “That can’t be good.”
Already pushing back from the table, Aiden stood upright—carefully. “I can fix it.” He was on his feet, moving toward the cabinet under the sink.
“Since when does a carpenter do plumbing?”
Flashing his most confident grin at her, he shrugged. “You’d be amazed at what I can do.” No sooner had the words crossed his lips than he realized that could so be misinterpreted. Eyes wide, he raised his hands. “No offense, that didn’t sound the way I intended.”
To his relief, she chuckled softly. “None taken.”
“What I should have said is, when you grow up in a blue collar neighborhood, you learn a lot from your neighbor the plumber, and the electrician, and even the trash collector.”
“Which is why you are a man of many talents.” Her smile was wide, and sweet, and held years of maternal approval.
Ducking his head before he said something else stupid, he opened the cabinet door and took a quick look underneath the sink.
Everything was arranged in neat rows—cleaning supplies, dish soap, extra sponges, a stack of folded grocery bags tucked into a basket.
Even under the sink, this woman ran a tighter operation than half the places he’d served.
He’d barely leaned over when Alice Sweet glared at him. “Don’t even think about it. Kade will kill me if I let you get down on that floor and set your recovery back.”
“Do you know another way to check if there’s a leak?”
By the tight press of her lips, she was either stumped or ticked off at him. “I’ll call Clint.”
“He does plumbing?”
She stopped mid-step. Definitely thinking. “Honestly, now is as good a time as any to find out.”
“Don’t bother. It’s no big deal.”
“Until it is.” Heaving a deep sigh, her shoulders sagged. “Fine. But be careful.”
With a nod, he lowered himself to the floor slowly, methodically, the way he’d learned to do everything in the last several weeks. Pain bit fast and mean through his hip. Getting down was a negotiation. It always was, and he was beginning to accept it always would be.
Situating himself, he cleared out all the neatly arranged supplies, and shoulders into the cabinet, looked at the back wall.
Black shapes trickled along the base spiking in spots.
The drywall was soft at the corner. He pressed it with two fingers and it gave.
Turning the shut off valve to the faucets, he sighed. “Do you have a toolbox?”
Mrs. Sweet nodded then darted away out of his sight line before reappearing. “Here you go.”
A quick perusal told him whoever’s box this was, knew his tools. Just about everything he would need was in here, except something to cut the sheetrock with. “I’ll have to turn off the main water line to actually make the pipe repairs.”
“There’s a shut off by the porch just for the kitchen. My Charlie had it installed after we lost power once during a nasty freeze and both the dishwasher and water heater exploded. Now we can shut off the kitchen and still use the bathrooms.”
“Sounds good to me. Would you please go ahead and turn it off?”
“Of course.” Spinning about, she darted off again. For a grandmother, this woman was in great shape.
Shifting his weight, he tried not to grimace from the pain. Somehow he was pretty sure that tomorrow, or maybe sooner, he was going to be in a world of hurt.
Alice reappeared. “Water’s off.”
“I need a box cutter, please.” He didn’t dare crawl out to find one on his own or he’d never get down and under again.
The sound of a drawer gliding open then slamming shut came from a few cabinets away. A moment later, the requested box cutter appeared beside him under the sink.
“Thank you.”
Just then the phone rang and Alice Sweet’s boot heels clicked across the old linoleum flooring.
Snatching the phone off the hook, he could only hear one side of the conversation.
He hoped the call wasn’t going to last too long; the sooner he got this thing fixed, the sooner he could crawl out and take a handful of aspirin and snuggle up to a heating pad.
“Hello.” Alice Sweet spoke hurriedly into the phone.
“Mom? Something wrong?” Preston’s voice dripped with concern.
“Not really. We have a small leak in the kitchen. Aiden’s fixing it now.”
“Aiden?” Concern shifted to surprise laced with a hint of shock. “Is he supposed to be fixing the house?”
“Probably not, but he’s stubborn, and more importantly, so far he seems to know what he’s doing.” She sighed. “Do you need anything, because I really should get back to him?”
“Fraid so. I have an important meeting this morning and the blasted papers I need are sitting on Dad’s desk. They’re in a red file folder. Should be right on top, but there’s a chance you’ll have to move a few things around if it got buried. Then, scan and email them to me, please.”
“Will do. But I need to hurry.” A simple conveyance of I love you back and forth and she hurried off, barely making it down the hall when the doorbell rang. Some days simply didn’t want to cut a gal a break.
Yanking the door open, she took a step back.
“Morning, Mrs. Sweet.” Colleen Gleeson stood in the doorway, smiling like a woman without a care in the world—and a working sink.
“Morning.” She took a step back. “I have to get some paperwork for Preston. Head into the kitchen. There’s a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Thank you.”
As Alice scurried toward her late husband’s office, Colleen’s footsteps could be heard casually making their way into the kitchen. For a foolish moment she wondered if Colleen might know anything about plumbing.
Colleen had barely made it into the kitchen when a voice called out, “Good, you’re back. I need a hammer and I can’t reach into the tool box.”
Glancing around the pristine floor, she spotted two denim clad legs sticking out from under the sink.
Judging by the length of them, the man on the other hand had to be pretty tall.
How he managed to fold himself under the sink was a wonder to her.
Noticing the toolbox at his side, she lifted the top tray and pulled out the hammer, handing it to him.
“Thanks. I squared out the soggy sheetrock, but a hammer will make faster work of knocking it out. I could use a trash bag.”
Trash bag. Where might Alice keep those? The first drawer she opened beside the sink held all sorts of storage and trash bags. Her lucky day. A hand waved from under the sink and she placed the bag in the palm.
“Thanks.”
Before she could respond, the man made quick work of loudly banging at the wall and placing broken sheetrock inside. Neatest worker she’d ever seen.
“Here, take this.” That hand stuck out again, this time holding the partly filled trash bag.
She grabbed it quickly and set it aside.
“There’s a roll of white Teflon tape in the toolbox.”
Silently, she nodded and snatched the roll from the top tray, handing it over. Before he could ask for it, she grabbed the purple primer.
When the hand reached out again and bumped the jar she held, his fingers wrapped around it. “Wow. Just what I was going to ask you for. You’re not only a great hostess, you’re a fabulous assistant.”
Not till that second did she realize, whoever was under the sink must have thought she was Alice Sweet.
She opened her mouth, ready to explain, when he let out a cuss followed by sucking sounds.
That could only mean one thing. Glancing around the kitchen, she grabbed a sheet of paper towel and reaching under the sink, waved the paper towel at him.
“Okay, so you really are a mind reader. Thanks. I hate these stupid little cuts. Dumb things hurt more than a major gash.”
“Band-Aid?” she asked.
“Nah. I’ll tape this on. It’ll be fine.” Whoever was under the sink shifted back slightly, grunted, groaned, then muttered something under his breath she probably wasn’t supposed to hear.
“This is only temporary. If I can get a ride to town, I’ll replace these copper lines with Pex and you’ll be good to go. ”
Without thinking, she nodded as if this were her house and her sink.
“I couldn’t ask for a better assistant. Beautiful, smart, and quick thinking. If you weren’t already married I could kiss you.”
“Sorry that took so long.” Alice Sweet huffed as she hurried into the kitchen. “How are we doing? Need anything else?”
At the exact moment that Colleen responded “Looks like he’s almost finished for now,” something clanked on the wood cabinet floor along with the loud thud of human body part banging against the same cabinet.
“Ouch.” The same male voice that had been asking for tools, praising Miss Alice for her help, and misguidedly offering to kiss one of them, suddenly sounded none too happy.
Another moment, followed by muffled groans, those same legs eased back out of the cabinet.
His hand on his head, a man with jet black hair and honey colored eyes slid out from under the sink into a seated position, his face blanketed in what she would call mortified embarrassment.
Colleen waved her fingers at him and biting back a wide grin, shrugged one shoulder.
“For what it’s worth, my grandfather was a plumber and—being a man ahead of his time—let me help, even if I was a girl.
Obviously I’m not Mrs. Sweet. And even though I’m not married, I don’t make it a habit to kiss strangers. ”