“What the fuck?” I hiss, leaving my glass on the counter and throwing open the back door. My boots are on and I’m outside in seconds, wishing I’d grabbed a raincoat as cold raindrops pelt my body.
I call her name, but my voice is lost to the roar of the rain as I stride toward her trailer. The door is banging in the wind and there’s a ladder lying on its side in a puddle of mud. I stare up at her, still struggling to believe what I’m seeing—Izzy, standing on the roof of her trailer, rain beating down around her, the flimsy raincoat she’s wearing clinging to her body, soaked through and doing nothing to keep her dry or decent either, considering how much of her thighs and ass I see with every flicker of flashlight.
“Izzy.” I bark out her name, louder this time.
She lets out a startled yelp. “You almost made me fall.” She glares at me through the rain like this is my fault.
Sure, I’m the problem here.I bite back the retort. This is not the time for bickering. I force a calm into my voice. “Get down. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.”
“I’ve almost got it,” she shouts, wrestling with a trash bag—the black plastic flapping wildly in the wind. As she moves, one of her boots slips on the wet roof and I swear my heart stops dead. Then a second later, she rights herself.
I step back, craning my neck for a better look. Rain drips down my face. I’m cold and soaked through, but it’s nothing compared to the state Izzy is in. “What are you doing?”
“My skylight started leaking.”
“For God’s sake, Izzy,” I holler. “You need to get down before you kill yourself.”
Her response is so exasperatingly typical of her that I almost laugh. “I have nowhere to sleep.”
“Like there isn’t a ranch house with four empty beds just across the driveway,” I yell at her. “Are you seriously telling me that you’d rather risk death than knock on my door?”
She pauses, and even in the flickering light of the flashlight, her face streaming with rain, I can see the realization dawn. “Yes?” The single word is a question as much as an answer. She frowns and I breathe a little easier as she stops her fight with the trash bag and steadies herself. She’s still on a slippery metal roof in the middle of the night in the pouring rain, but at least she’s no longer moving.
“How were you planning on getting down, genius?” I shout up.
She glances toward the edge of the roof, her eyes widening with another bolt of realization. “The ladder?—”
“Is in the mud,” I finish for her.
Her mouth drops open, and I can’t decide if I want to keep shouting at her or charge up that ladder, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her down myself.
“It’s too late, and I’m too wet and too tired to keep arguing with you,” I growl before moving to grab the ladder. “I’m putting this back and you’re climbing down. Then you’re sleeping in the house tonight. End of story.”
“I’ll come down,” she says, shuffling toward the edge of the roof, “but I can sleep?—”
“Just get your ass down here, Brooks.”
“Talking of asses, don’t stare at mine while I’m climbing down, Sullivan,” she calls out.
“Because you decided clothes were optional for roof repair?” Probably not the time to question her clothing choices, but I can’t help it, just like I can’t help my eyes snagging on the strip of black lace barely covering her ass.
“I’m wearing clothes!” she replies as her hands grip the wet rungs. “Just… not many.”
I hold the ladder, trying not to be a giant perv as I watch her climb down, telling myself it’s so I can be ready to catch her if she slips. When she finally makes it to the ground, I heave out a breath. Izzy is soaked through and might as well be naked for all the good her clothes are doing. Her raincoat clings to the swell of her breasts, her nipples showing through the fabric. Her hair is loose and dripping down her face and back, and damn if she still isn’t infuriatingly sexy. She’s also shivering. Before she can argue, I grab her hand, threading my fingers through hers, and give a gentle tug.
“You’re coming inside,” I say.
I ignore Izzy’s protests as I lead her through the house, up the stairs, and to the bathroom, never letting go of her hand as I turn the knobs in the shower to hot. “Don’t move,” I say as warm steam starts to fill the room.
A moment later I’m shoving two fluffy clean towels and some clothes at her. “Get in that shower and get warm.”
Izzy looks like she might argue some more, but then something else entirely dances in those green eyes of hers. “You’re kind of cute when you’re bossy, Sullivan.”
It’s the last thing I expected her to say and I can’t help but laugh. “You get struck by lightning on that roof?”
“Maybe.” She laughs too, the sound wrapping around my chest like it does every time I hear it. “What about you? Don’t you need to get warm?”
My brain short circuits at the implication in her voice, and my dick twitches, growing hard in seconds. It’s on my lips to ask if there’s an invitation in that question, but I hold it in and mentally shake myself. I’m not the kind of man who takes advantage of a woman with nowhere else to go. Even if all I can think about is peeling off her wet clothes and stepping into that shower with her.
