taped inside the cover. Who uses these anymore? My heart aches at all the antiquity of this house and the woman who owns it. It’s going to break her heart if I need to move her.
QuickFix, the card reads. Specializing in emergency repairs. Plumbing. Electrical. You name it, we fix it. Quick.
Goodness. Who came up with that slogan?
Regardless, I dial the number, thankful my cell phone was on the kitchen table, and my feet tap in the flooded floor, like a kid sloshing through puddles.
“QuickFix.”
There’s something familiar about the voice on the other end of the line, but I delve into my situation with the sink and where I’m located. A pause follows my explanation.
“Hello?” I question as silence fills the line.
“I’m here,” he says, and the ruggedness gives away who he is.
Oh hell no.
“I thought you worked at Sound Advice,” I snap, mortified for some reason.
“I’m a Jess of all trades,” he teases, his voice almost playful. This is a side of him I’ve not yet seen.
“Don’t you mean Jack?” I correct.
“Don’t know who Jack is. My name is Jess. How easily you forget.” His light banter does nothing to settle me. “Give me fifteen and I’ll be there.”
Fifteen? I don’t have fifteen minutes to clean this mess and myself. Then I reconsider. What do I care if he sees me like this? Jess Carter gets what he gets when he looks at me, which is nothing. He stole my shoes last night, I remind myself, and hung up without a courtesy thank you. Nana would be appalled.
When I turn back toward the flooded kitchen, the tears still don’t come, only hysteria. I laugh and laugh at the craziness of the universe.
I’ve hardly encountered this man without looking like a wreck. First when I took the radio to his shop. Then when I made a rain shower in Nana’s garden, and now this.
He must think I’m a hot mess. And I am.
Rule 4
Listen. You might hear more than what’s said.
[Jess]
Ten minutes after Emily’s call, I enter her grandmother’s home to a mess. Elizabeth answered the door for me and leads me to the kitchen entrance.
This house has good bones, and it’s one I’ve always admired. I’d love to own a place like this one day.
As I enter the kitchen, I can tell the place needs more work than I could ever afford, and from the looks of the sink, there’s a steep bill coming Elizabeth Parrish’s way. The cold water tap is missing. The contents of the cabinet underneath stand outside scattered across the counter. The sink is almost a hundred years old, and I imagine I won’t find a replacement part. It’s not a quick fix after all, and I don’t know why I’m disappointed.
Because you want to get out of here.
Because you want to stick around.
My mind can’t make itself up.
Emily hasn’t made an appearance, and I consider the possibility she isn’t here until I see her in another pair of shorts. They look like men’s pants cut off at the top of the thigh, and she’s wearing another T-shirt that has grandpa written all over it. Is she wearing her grandfather’s old clothes? I stare at her attire and realize she’s soaking wet again.
“What happened?” I question with a chuckle.
“That,” she hisses, waving a hand at the sink.
“I think you won, killer,” I tease, but her face is stern today. She looks tired. She’s out of her element, taking care of this home.
“Clearly, the faucet is the victor.” She tugs at her shirt, which lowers the neckline and exposes her cleavage to me, repeating the events of yesterday. Only today her bra is red, and I’m seeing more skin than fabric down the front of the stretched V-neck.
Do not think about her breasts.
Do not think about her bra.
Do not consider red your new favorite color.
Releasing her shirt, she nods toward the sink, dismissive in the way her chin lift to me was last night. “What’s the damage?”
She’s a haughty thing when she wants to be, acting all prim and proper as if she’s better than others here. She came across as so stuck-up when she brought that radio into Sound Advice. I’m actually loving the challenge that thing has presented, but I’m not going to admit that to her.
“I don’t know. This might take a while.”
“Do you have two jobs?” There’s a hint of revulsion in her tone as if it’s not right for a man to work for two places. Not that I owe her