A loud crack interrupted him, followed by an ominous gurgling sound. Luke barely had time to register what was happening before a spray of water hit him square in the face. He could’ve sworn the supply valve was turned off. The stupid thing was probably broken like everything else in this place.
“Whoa!” Eli jumped up from his chair. “That was awesome!”
“Eli, back up,” Noah ordered, already moving toward the sink. “Luke, I’m so sorry?—”
“It’s fine.” Luke spat out a mouthful of water, trying to reach the shutoff valve while keeping the spray contained. “Just need to?—”
Noah reached past him, and suddenly they were both wedged into the space under the sink, Noah’s shoulder pressed against Luke’s as they fumbled for the valve. Water soaked through Luke’s shirt, but he was more aware of Noah’s proximity, of the way their hands brushed as they finally managed to shut off the water.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Luke felt Noah’s breath against his neck and smelled the faint traces of whatever cologne he wore through the mustiness of old pipes and mineral-heavy water. Then Eli’s delighted laugh broke the spell.
“That was like a Super Soaker!” He bounced on his toes, apparently thrilled by the impromptu water show. “Can we do it again?”
“No,” Noah said firmly, extracting himself from the cabinet. He looked as flustered as Luke felt, his white dress shirt now partially transparent where the water had hit him. “Definitely not doing that again.”
Luke sat back on his heels, pushing wet hair from his forehead. “Well, the good news is I found the problem. The bad news is you’re going to need all new pipes under here. Whoever worked on this before used the wrong fittings, and everything’s corroded to hell and back.”
“Of course it is.” Noah’s shoulders slumped slightly. “How much…?”
“We’ll figure something out.” Luke stood, accepting the dish towel Noah offered. “But first, you might want to mop up before the water seeps into the subfloor through the cracks in this hideous vinyl. Trust me, you don’t want to addthatto the list.”
Noah looked around at the puddles spreading across his kitchen floor, and something in his expression made Luke’s chest tight. This wasn’t about a broken sink or corroded pipes—this was about a man trying to create a home for his son, watching it fall apart despite his best efforts.
“Here.” Luke pulled a handful of clean rags from his bag. “Eli, want to help? We can make it a race—whoever soaks up the most water wins.”
“Really?” Eli grabbed a rag. “What do we win?”
“Hmm.” Luke pretended to think about it. “How about whoever wins gets to help me take measurements after? I might even let you use the laser level.”
“What’s a laser level?” Eli’s eyes widened. “Does it shoot bad guys?”
“Even better—it shoots perfectly straight lines.” Luke demonstrated with his hands. “Like having a superhero helper when you’re trying to make sure everything’s exactly right.”
Noah watched their exchange, something softening in his expression. “Luke, you don’t have to?—”
“Quiet, Dad! We’re on a race to save the house.” Eli was already on his hands and knees, pushing his rags across the floor. “I’m totally gonna win!”
Luke caught Noah’s eye, offering a slight shrug. “Kids love lasers. And competition. And helping. Might as well put all three to good use, right?”
“Right.” Noah’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Though I notice you’re not actually helping with the cleanup.”
“I’m supervising.” Luke grinned, but he grabbed a rag anyway. “Besides, some of this mess is definitely my fault. Though, in my defense, your pipes were a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Story of this house,” Noah muttered, but there was less tension in his voice now. “At least the water’s clean. Sort of.”
They worked in companionable silence, broken only by Eli’s running commentary about his superior mopping technique and occasional questions about laser levels. Luke found himself stealing glances at Noah, noting how his methodical approach to cleaning matched what Luke remembered of him from high school. Even now, with his shirt soaked and his carefully styled hair curling at the temples, Noah moved with purpose and precision.
It was kind of hot, actually. In a completely professional, absolutely-not-thinking-about-it way.
“I win!” Eli announced, holding up his dripping rag like a trophy. “Can I see the laser now?”
“Hold up there, buddy.” Luke wrung out his own rag over the sink. “We still need to check the rest of the kitchen first. But tell you what—while your dad and I talk about boring grown-up stuff, why don’t you draw me a map of where all the problems are? You know, since you’re the expert on what needs fixing.”
Eli’s face lit up. “Can I use different colors? Like red for super bad stuff and orange for kind of bad stuff? I would use yellow, but sometimes yellow is hard to see.”
“Perfect. A color-coded disaster map.” Luke pulled his notebook from his belt, now slightly damp but still usable. “Just like a real contractor.”
Noah cleared his throat. “Eli, homework first. Then you can make Mr.—Luke a map.”
