How to Rattle an Undead Couple - Hailey Edwards Page 0,71
talking about my dry spell with this guy. Nah-uh. No way. No how. Especially now that I suspected he wasn’t my actual employer but the recipient of a ruffle-butted perk.
Smart guy, he figured out I wasn’t playing ball and killed that line of inquiry. “How is it we’ve never met?”
“You’re never home.” I stalled out at the foot of his bed, at the utter chaos ruining the space I kept model-home perfect, my fingers itching to snatch the clothes littering the floor and toss them into the hamper. A shirt dangled from the light fixture overhead as well, and I ducked to walk beneath it. Then again, maybe he wasn’t a slob. Maybe he had a temper. He had slammed the door in my face. Yet another reason to shake a tail feather and get my butt home. “I’ll just get to it then.”
With Penthouse acting as my shadow, I set to work unclogging the toilet. Braced for the sight—and smell—of what normally caused stoppages, I blinked at the tight ball of fabric clogging the trap. A plunger wasn’t going to fix this. I’d have to get my hands dirty.
Years spent cleaning up rich people’s messes had taught me to always come to work prepared for anything. One of my necessities were heavy-duty dishwashing gloves I kept folded in a pocket I had sewn into my skirt. After snapping on a pair, I sank my hand into the chilly water filling the bowl and wriggled my fingers into the knot.
A shadow fell across me, and his deep voice rumbled, “I wouldn’t have called if I had known…”
Flashing my ruffled butt, practically a job requirement, I grunted and yanked until I lost my grip. “Step out of my light, please.”
Darkness retreated, but the fresh prickle of intensity washing down my spine informed me he had decided to stay for the show.
Great.
Damn ruffles.
Whatever this guy had flushed, it did not want to get unflushed. That much was certain.
“I…apologize,” he said, as if testing how the words sounded. “I didn’t realize what she had done until it was too late to prevent the damage.”
She. Probably his girlfriend. Probably his jilted girlfriend if she was mad enough to flush designer labels.
“It’s no problem.” I knelt on the tiles and put my back into the heave-ho action. “It’s easily fixed.”
“Are you aware your underwear is showing?”
A lot more than my bloomers were on display. “Yep.”
“Hmm.”
Taking a break to flex my aching fingers, I glanced back at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I would have made an effort to visit more often had I known what I was missing.”
This guy was a real piece of work. His girlfriend just flushed several hundred dollars’ worth of shirt down his toilet in a fit of pique, and he was hitting on me.
I offered him a smile as fake as Riley’s boobs. “Well, now you know.”
The porcelain cut into my stomach as I strained, but the blasted clog popped free at last. I hit the chilly tile on my butt, and the shirt smacked my chest with a wet thunk that smelled mercifully like bleach.
A single huff of laughter escaped the peanut gallery. “Would you like a towel?”
“I’m good.” I held up the shirt, a little bit proud of my accomplishment. “Where would you like this?”
He cut me a look that suggested I might want to get my head examined. “The trash is fine.”
“Suit yourself.” I dumped it in the small trash can at my knee then peeled off my gloves and tossed them in too. After tying off the bag, I lifted it out and then replaced it. I flushed the toilet, and it whispered in an almost silent whoosh. “My work here is done.” Standing, I hefted the bag in a one-armed salute then collected my unused plunger. “I’ll show myself out. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Penthouse filled the doorway, preventing my exit. “What is your name?”
“Elle.”
“Elle,” he echoed, a curious lilt I hadn’t noticed in his voice. “Brielle? Umbrielle? Karielle?”
Taken aback by his off-the-cuff recitation of unusual names, I admitted mine, “Elliana.”
Pleased, he gifted me with a tight curl of his lips that might have been a smile had his teeth not been so very white and sharp behind them. “Do you have a last name, Ana?”
“I do.”
“Will you tell me what it is?”
“I was already off the clock when my boss called me about your emergency.” I didn’t use air quotes, but only because my hands were full of soggy shirt and plunger. “I