by Tawna Fenske
“Did he jump you on the coffee table?” Miriam smiled and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“He asked me to move so he could see the TV.”
“Ouch.” Miriam glared. “Ass-hat.”
“Pretty much.” Ellie shrugged to let her know it wasn’t still bothering her, even though it was. “Eventually, I stopped trying.”
Miriam reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Well, I can guarantee you Ty is noticing.”
A smile spread across Ellie’s face. She took a bite of salad to cover it, but it was impossible to hide the giddiness she felt at the thought of seducing Ty.
“Well, okay, then,” she said. “It’s time to take things to the next level.”
…
Ty’s phone was at the other end of the house that night when he heard it chime with the ringtone he’d assigned to Ellie Sanders. He sprinted for it, stubbing his toe on the baseboard as he rounded the corner from the hall.
“Stupid dog-reaming jackwagon—” He skidded to a halt in front of the entry table that held his phone.
It also held the only photograph he owned of his late grandmother, and he waited for his chest to stop squeezing before he answered the call.
“Hey, Ellie.”
“Ty! You sound out of breath. Did I interrupt something?”
“No, definitely not. I was just…working out.”
He wanted to punch himself for lying to her, and for no reason at all. Jesus. Did pathological lying run in families? It must. He sat down on the sofa with the phone in one hand.
“Okay, good.” Ellie took a breath on the other end of the line. “I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner.”
“Dinner?” He lowered his foot to the floor and focused on not being an asshole. “I…um…sure. What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, no occasion.” She sounded breezy and casual, and Ty had the feeling she was forcing it a little. “Henry’s out of town with my brother, so I thought it might be nice to have you over. You know, as a thank you for all the video work you’re doing for me.”
“You’ve already thanked me by doing all that voiceover work.” He wished he hadn’t said that.
“I know, but I wanted the chance to visit with you outside of work,” she said.
Ty’s heart lurched, but he punched it back down into the hollow center of his chest. “That would be nice,” he said carefully.
“Some one-on-one time would be a great networking opportunity, plus it would be great to interface about professional strategy outside the confines of work,” she added.
Ty frowned, trying to figure out why she sounded like she was reading from the handbook of bad business jargon. Was this a date or a business dinner? Which did he want?
You want to be professional, he reminded himself. You can’t get involved, remember?
He cleared his throat. “Dinner sounds great,” he said. “Name the time and the place, and I’ll be there.”
“Great!” The enthusiasm in that single syllable gave Ty a fresh jolt of excitement, and he ordered himself to knock it off. To keep his damn emotions out of the equation.
Ellie rattled off the date and an address, chattering a bit longer about action items and best practices until Ty had no idea if she was talking dirty or what.
But the one thing he did know was that he couldn’t wait to see her.
And that scared the hell out of him.
Chapter Seven
Ty made his way up the sidewalk leading to Ellie’s duplex, glancing once at his watch to make sure he wasn’t too early. Nope, right on time.
He clutched a bouquet of daisies in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, hoping like hell he wasn’t way off base with either one. He still wasn’t sure if this was a business meeting or a date.
A date would be a dumb I idea. Didn’t keep him from wanting it, though.
As he stood on the doorstep steeling himself to knock, nervous vibes coursed through him like an electric current. His palms itched, and he couldn’t stop his idiot heart from doing its best impression of a kettledrum. It’s just dinner, he reminded himself. Dinner with a business associate.
A business associate who kissed you senseless, added another voice from the deeper recesses of his brain. A business associate with breasts that fit so perfectly in your palm it’s like they were meant to go together. Like chocolate and peanut butter. Or chips and salsa. Or Madame Butterfly’s Strawberry Tingle Gel and—
“Not helpful,” Ty muttered as he lifted his hand to knock.
The door flew open, and Ty had an instant view of the aforementioned breasts. They were displayed in shocking detail under a soaking wet T-shirt dress. The thin cotton was plastered to her skin, leaving nothing to the imagination as Ellie’s nipples jutted toward him like party invitations.
He blinked, pretty sure he was imagining things.
Nope. Ellie was standing in her doorway wearing a drenched pink cotton dress that clung to her like Saran Wrap. Ty could see everything. Seriously—everything. He might have reached for her right then if it weren’t for the panic on her face.
“Ty.” She peeled the sopping cotton away from her breasts, but the stubborn garment sucked right back into place. She gave a small growl of frustration. “Fuck!”
“Ellie? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
His desire switch flipped off, and his brain flooded with concern. Was she hurt? The urge to protect her hit him with a fierceness that pulled the breath from his lungs.
She shook her head and spit out a damp hank of hair. “The pipe under my kitchen sink just blew up,” she said. “I tried to stop the water, but it’s spurting everywhere like a fucking geyser, and now my kitchen is flooding and I’m freaking out.”
“Show me.” Not waiting for an invitation, he pushed through the door. Ellie stepped back, then turned and hurried ahead into a tidy little kitchen with slate counters. Well, it had been tidy. The puddles of water on the gray tile floor weren’t so tidy. Beneath the sink, a cupboard gaped open, water spewing from it like a fire hydrant.
Ty dove for it, fumbling through the geyser for the shutoff valve. His fingers found the knob, slipping once before he grabbed hold of it. He twisted hard, but it wouldn’t budge.
“God, it’s stuck,” he grunted.
“I know! I’ve been fighting with it for five minutes.”
“Come on, you infected cock-felcher,” Ty muttered, throwing every ounce of strength into moving the knob. The rusty handle began to turn, slowing the streams of water. “That’s it, you piss-bathing son of a–” The flow petered out to a slow gush, then a dribble.
He glanced behind him to see Ellie looking bemused.
“Apparently, I needed to curse at it,” she said. “Who knew?”
Ty grunted then ducked back under the sink for a closer look. The water wasn’t gushing anymore, but it still seeped from several spots. He peered at the pipe, unsurprised to see a cluster of small pinholes. “Corrosion,” he muttered. “Could be chloramines, or maybe your water heater is old. That’ll cause pinhole leaks like this.”
“I know a new water heater is on the list,” Ellie admitted. “My brother bought this duplex as a fixer-upper. We’ve been renting it at a discount while he chips away at repairs.”
“This should probably be your next one.” Ty sat up and wiped his hands on his jeans.
“No kidding.” She bit her lip. “Is there any way to patch things up until he comes home Sunday?”
Ty leaned back on his heels and scratched his chin with a damp hand. “I don’t suppose you have any epoxy.”
She frowned. “I don’t think so. We keep all the home repair stuff in the other duplex next door. It’s vacant right now while Jason fixes it up for the next renter.”
“Any chance you have a spare key?”
Ellie shook her head. “Normally I’d run down the street and grab it from Miriam, but she’s out of town.”
“Let me see what I’ve got in my toolbox.
”
Ellie stared at him. “You brought a toolbox to dinner?”
Ty nodded as he got to his feet. “I always keep one in my truck, just in case.”
“I think I might love you.”
She meant it as a joke, but the words sent a pleasant throb through his chest. He turned away, not wanting her to read anything on his face. He hurried back through the living room and out the front door, wondering if he should call Home Depot. But it was already late, and the odds of getting all the way there before closing seemed slim.
He’d have to make do. He grabbed the toolbox and hustled back to the house, heading straight for the kitchen this time without knocking. Ellie was on her hands and knees mopping at the water with a pile of old towels, and Ty felt like an asshole for noticing the curve of her backside.
God, you’re a pig. What kind of asshole ogles a woman in distress?
Ty took a deep breath and set the toolbox on the counter. Ellie looked up as he opened the lid and began rummaging through the contents.
“I’m so sorry, Ty,” she said.
His heart twisted a little at the unhappy note in her voice. “It’s not a problem,” he said, meaning it. “I’m glad to help.”
“I swear I didn’t invite you here to be my plumber.”
“Oh, you’ll still need a plumber.” He located a stray C-clamp and kept digging, hoping to find an old tube of epoxy. “But I should at least be able to plug your hole.”
Silence met him in response, and Ty slowly replayed his words. Hell. He glanced at Ellie to see she wore a strange expression.
“Um, right.” She swiped a damp hank of hair off a cheek that seemed pinker than normal. “Plugging my hole would be—helpful.”
Ty’s dick twinged. No. I’m not sporting wood in the middle of her kitchen.
He dug through the toolbox some more, annoyed not to see any epoxy or pipe repair clamps or Teflon tape or anything else he might need. How the hell was he supposed to help her? Something inside him desperately wanted to, needed to be the guy to make things okay for her.
He glanced back at Ellie, who was using a Batman beach towel to mop up a small lake next to the fridge. “Any chance you have a patch kit?” he asked.
“You mean for pipes?”
“I was thinking more like the kind you’d use for a rubber raft or an air mattress or something.”
She frowned, looking dubious as she shoved a damp towel aside and reached for a dry one. “I don’t think so. I had water wings for Henry when he was little, but those are probably long gone.”
“Or just a stray piece of rubber will do,” he said. “An old bike inner tube or garden hose or something?”
Ellie bit her lip. “I can look around the house.” She stopped sponging at the water and sat back on her heels. “Jason and Henry took their bikes camping, and my bike is in the shop getting a tune-up. My patch kit is still in my seat bag.”
Ty glanced back at the pipe and frowned. Hesitating, he glanced back at Ellie. Hell.
“Okay. Don’t judge.” Keeping his eyes off her, he slid his hand into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I’m pretty sure this will work,” he said as he slid out the condom and tore open the foil packet.
He dared a glance at her then, noticing the stunned look on her face. Was she upset?
“Oh.” Ellie stared at him, cheeks going from soft pink to a hue on the edge of crimson. “Well, that’s one way to do it.”
Ty shoved the wrapper in the trash and unrolled the condom. “It’s the right size, and durable and—”
“Right. Yes, of course.” Ellie sat back on her heels, her dress still plastered to her breasts. She plucked at the wet fabric, driving him mindless with the peripheral view of her hand reaching for her breasts again and again.
Ty focused on his work.
“You know, you shouldn’t store condoms in your wallet,” she said. “There’s this whole big article about it on the Madame Butterfly website. Apparently, if you leave them in there for a long time, the friction from repeatedly opening and closing the wallet will degrade the latex and make holes in the condom.”
“It’s only been in there an hour,” he said slowly. “So, it should be safe.”
Ellie stared at him, and he waited for the words to register.
She smiled. “Oh. Oh.” The smile got wider, and she plucked at her damp dress again. “I see.”
Ty nodded, then turned back to the task at hand. He tried not to think of how he’d imagined using the damn condom when he put it there before leaving for dinner, but how could he not? Ellie was just a few feet away, lush and wet and so fuckable that his brain had short-circuited.
He yanked a utility knife out of his back pocket and began trimming the condom to size.
“What else do you need?” Ellie asked. “Um. For the repair, I mean.”
“A couple blocks of wood would be great.” Ty set the knife down and held up his hands. “Maybe about this thick and this long?”
Ellie stared, eyes fixed on his fingers and palms, then nodded. “I’ll see what I can find.”
She scrambled up, slipping once in a puddle. Ty reached out to catch her, but she was on her feet before he put his hands on her.
Dammit.
Part of him felt like a dick for not doing a better job helping her. Another part felt like a dick for ogling her. Either way, that was an awful lot of dick feelings.
Jesus. Control yourself.
He turned back to his work, needing to concentrate on Ellie’s pipe so he wouldn’t be so fixated on his own.
You’re such a pig. Just like your old man.
Something crashed at the other end of the house, and Ty wondered if he should check on Ellie. “You okay?”
“Fine, fine,” she called. “Just looking for that wood.”
Ty swallowed hard and wondered if he should just call an after-hours plumber. That’s what a better guy would do. A guy who’d stay focused on helping Ellie instead of thinking illicit thoughts about her. She deserved a hero, not a creeper. He muttered under his breath, curse words that seemed creative even for him.
“What’s that?” she called.
“Nothing,” he yelled back, wondering if lust had pickled his brain and made it seep into his eardrums. “If you have any thread sealing tape, can you grab that?”
It was unlikely, but he might as well ask. He pressed the condom over the pinprick holes in the pipe, doing his best to create a seal.
Footsteps alerted him to Ellie’s return. She held out a pair of kid’s building blocks—one red, one yellow—along with a spool of bright purple tape Ty recognized.
He squinted at it. “Is that the bondage tape you were using the other night?”
She nodded, embarrassed. “I know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but I thought maybe it could work.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
Ellie took a step back and Ty placed one block on each side of the condom-covered pipe.
“What are those for?” Ellie asked from behind him.
“It’s to spread the pressure out,” he said. “The pipe is already corroded, so we don’t want it to collapse once I start tightening the C-clamp.”
“I’m not sure what a C-clamp is, but it sounds like something I’d sell at one of my parties.”
He snorted, appreciating her sense of humor. Plenty of women would be freaking out over a flooded kitchen and major plumbing damage, but not Ellie. She was taking it all in stride.
God, what a woman.
Stop thinking about her.
He slipped the metal piece into place and began spinning the slippery screw, fumbling to get it nice and tight without thinking words like “slippery screw” and “nice and tight” and pretty much anything else that might make him want to bend Ellie over the kitchen counter.
Which was pointless, really. He could open a dictionary at random and point to any word at all. Aardvark. Kiwi. Valance. Any of them made him want to put his hands all over Ellie Sanders.
>
Or maybe that was Ellie herself. She was standing close enough for Ty to see up her dress if he turned his head at all, so he concentrated hard on not doing that.
He turned the screw one last time then checked the clamp to make sure it was snug. Then he turned his attention to the spot where the pipe disappeared into the wall at the back of the cupboard. He frowned and touched a fingertip to the fitting.
“Damn.”
“What’s the matter?” Ellie asked.
Ty put his fingers around it and gave it a wiggle. “The nut is plenty tight, but it’s still dripping for some reason,” he muttered. “Can you hand me the tape?”
Ellie stooped down beside him and picked up the bondage tape. Placing it in his palm, she peered into the cupboard. “Oh. I see what you mean.”
Her shoulder bumped his, and lust blasted through him again. There was so much of it surging through his veins that it was probably flooding his organs. His skin hummed with heat, and he thought about stabbing his utility knife straight into the pipe to start another geyser.
Cold shower. Please.
“I might need a hand getting this wrapped around the male end of the fitting.”
“Whatever you need,” Ellie said.
“Here, can you hold this?”
Ellie grabbed the pipe, and Ty concentrated on wrapping the purple tape around the threads, careful not to twist it or overlap it or throw it aside to reach for her.
“There,” he said, spinning the nut back into place over the tape-covered threads. “That should do it.”
They sat back and admired his handiwork.
“Unreal,” Ellie said. “You did it.”
“Yeah,” Ty said, surprised by the swell of pride bubbling in his chest.
“You fixed my kitchen sink with a condom, bondage tape, and my son’s building blocks.”
Ty nodded and wiped his hands down the front of his jeans. “Should we post it to the do-it-yourself page on Home Depot’s website?”
She laughed and brushed a damp clump of hair off her face. “Thank you so much, Ty. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Probably gotten a lot wetter,” he said.
The second he said it, he wanted to grab the words back and shove them down his throat.
