“I think you have an issue with your water inlet valve,” he says. “Come look.”
I arch a brow at him and shake my head. “What in the fuck is that?”
“Come on,” he urges. “I promise. This isn’t sewage water or anything like that. If it were, you’d definitely smell it. I’m pretty sure you have an issue with the washing machine. I’ll show you.”
I throw him a look because if he’s planning to murder me or pull anything dodgy, I want him to know I’m not going down without a fight. But I take my life in my hands because we do, after all, have security cameras and follow him to the back of the store. We have two bathrooms—one we reserve for customers and one markedEmployees Only.
The employee bathroom is huge. At the back is a washer and dryer where we clean and dry the shop towels right here on the premises.
“I shut off the water to the toilets and sinks in both bathrooms, but I’m pretty sure that valve back here is the problem.” He’s pointing at the colored handles and twisty knobs with hoses installed in the wall behind the washing machine and dryer. I’m sure he thinks I understand, but my mind is a mess.
The shop is flooded.
We have a schedule full of appointments today. Clients who might already be waiting at the front door.
It might be our fault that the bookshop flooded.
Shit.
Or it might be some other tenant’s fault, which means there will be arguments with the property owner, cleanup, and a whole lot of headaches we don’t need.
And worst of all, I haven’t even had my coffee yet.
“So, you’ll definitely need a plumber,” he finishes, as I realize I haven’t been listening to any of what he explained. “But I think this is just tap water. Not sewage. A couple of towels and a mop, you’ll be back in business.”
I know there is no way this could be that easy, but somehow his cheerfulness makes it hard to keep frowning. “You drink coffee?” I ask.
He looks at me curiously.
“Cream and sugar?”
When he gives the cutest little nod, looking so adorably trusting, I head to the front of the shop, grab one of my extra-larges, and walk back to where he’s standing. I offer one to my hero and drop down in my chair. “Have a seat,” I say. “And drink up. You deserve it.”
2
RYDER
The spitfire flailingher arms while she tells the owner of the building about the flooding has me biting back a grin.
But I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t know what drove me to stop in front of a tattoo shop, of all places, today.
Well, that’s not true. I know why I came here, and I know why I cametoday.
But I never once imagined that I’d actually go inside. Being dragged in and force-fed coffee by a woman with raven-black hair is the last thing I imagined when I decided to get a tattoo.
“No,” the woman snaps into the phone. She’s finished a full cup of coffee and seems to be calming. “Echo wasn’t on the schedule until three today, when I am scheduled for my first client. I’m here alone right now.” She looks at me as she says that but then raises a dramatic brow. “Not alone-alone,” she corrects. “The customer who shut off the water is here.”
She paces the lobby until she finishes her conversation.
“All right. All right. I know, I know. I will. Bye.” Finally, she hangs up the phone and jams the device into the rear pocket of shredded black jeans, then she turns those startling gray eyes on me.
“So,” she says, “I’ve got to close the shop. This is going to take some time to clean and investigate. I need to call my appointments and get things canceled. It’s going to be a clusterfuck in here.”
I understand without her saying it. She’s asking me to leave. I take another sip of the coffee and nod. “Understood,” I say. I start walking to the door, but the squeak of my drenched shoes is so loud, I begin to laugh.
“Your shoes.” She scurries around the counter and grabs my arm.
I look down at her, at the softness of her skin on mine. Heat pools in my gut as she quickly pulls her hand away.
