Again, my mind is spinning with how fast the last day has transpired, but Summer was right when she reminded me that I am a spur-of-the-moment kind of person. I’ll just go with the flow and follow the direction of where this rollercoaster takes me.
Opening my suitcase, I search for clothes. It’s getting late for dinner, but I’ll just order something in, although I’m positive when Holden is back from his meeting he will welcome me to his property like the gentleman I’m sure he isn’t. My instinct tells me that he won’t let me go to sleep without a reminder of his smug assurance that he has me wrapped around his finger, or at least in his head.
Walking to the window, my eyes wander to explore my surroundings. There is the lake with a dock for a boat, and there’s a hot tub near the house. Then there is a tire swing on a big tree and a basketball hoop near the back of the garage. When I admire the stone patio, my eyes draw a line up and I land on a window upstairs. A big window with the curtains open.
The same window where I can see Holden walk into the room. He must have just gotten back, and he quickly yanks up his t-shirt. Oh no, my entire body energizes in a way that seems to be on repeat lately. My eyes refuse to take my sight and mind back to my own room, and instead, my feet stay planted as I study his shirtless chest. The man keeps himself in shape, that’s clear.
I hear my soft gasp that I get to see this, but then I deeply question if I owe him privacy when he unbuckles his jeans. Fuck that, I deserve a prize for doing this favor for him. His black boxer briefs appear when he slides down his jeans, and I see his thick and toned thighs.
Am I drooling yet? Nah, that’s not me. I’m a confident woman who has no problem allowing herself a peek. He isn’t a stranger to me. Although it’s been a while, I’ve known him for years, I guess. Back then, of course, I thought he was hot with a lot of swagger. It didn’t matter that he was a dad by twenty-five, he still went out when he could just like any other guy in their twenties. Now? He’s aged well, and he still has an aura that pulls you in.
I should question this appraisal more, especially when he turns around and the boxers disappear too, which means I have a clear view of his ass. My brows rise, as I’m not at all complaining about his body. My fingertips glide down my neck, unsure if I should touch myself or hide further behind the curtain. Holden grabs a white towel, and the pool forming between my legs is my sign that I too should hit the shower.
Desperately, I now need relief, but I’m scared that I’ll imagine him in the shower with me. His lips cascading down until he’s on his knees, his tongue eager. I wouldn’t last long because I’d want to be on my knees before him too.
Shaking my head, I walk to the bathroom and whip off my shirt and notice the stack of folded towels next to the sink. I reach out to twist the knob in the shower.
Nothing comes out.
I twist the other direction.
Nothing comes out.
Strange. I turn and do the same thing with the sink knob.
Nothing.
Grumbling, I’m not happy about this. More because I have no clue where a switch or something might be to turn the water supply on. He must have turned it off to ensure water doesn’t freeze the pipes in the winter if nobody uses this place.
Okay, I’m not going to be able to fix this by myself. Throwing my yoga pants back on and a fleece sweater, I head to the house. I hug myself because it’s nippy out as I cross the patio.
Opening the sliding door, I hear pop music is getting overshadowed by a squeaky recorder that might hurt my ears, even though the kids seem to be upstairs. Man, does Holden have to listen to this every day? Another point of sympathy goes onto the scoreboard.
Remembering that Holden was in the shower, I walk to the kitchen to wait. I might as well steal a cookie; I notice the chocolate chip ones from the Dizzy Duck. The ones they leave on guests’ pillows at night or offer as a welcome. It’s a great touch to the inn, and the cookies are damn delicious and soft, too.
It’s a few minutes later when I hear someone come down the stairs as I sit at the island. I know it’s Holden because the steps are heavier than what a child’s might be.
Strolling into the kitchen, he greets me with a smile, but my eyes only dip down with dread because he’s in a fresh pair of jeans and a white fitted t-shirt. “What brings you in? Everything okay?”
I snicker but give him a smirk because I do love our interaction. “Actually, the water doesn’t seem to be on in the guesthouse, or at least no water is coming out. I’m not sure where the pipe nozzle is outside.”
He licks his lips, and his grin is tight. “This isn’t good.”
“Why?”
Holden walks to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of beer then pulls out wine to offer to me. Waving my hand no, he places it back in the fridge. Opening his beer, the cap snap fills the silence between us as I patiently wait for his answer.
He takes a long sip as the line on my lips stays permanent with entertaining fear that his response won’t be easy.
“I thought for sure that had been fixed,” he begins. “I guess not. The plumber did mention if the water doesn’t come out, then it’s blocked somewhere, and the water can’t get through.”
My head falls into my hand because this kind of feels like bullshit, but I’ll play along. “Is that so?” I cast doubt.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Plumbers don’t lie.”
I stand up and begin to walk toward him as he leans casually against the counter near the fridge. “Hmm. So, what is the solution to this issue? May I please go back to the Dizzy Duck?”
One step closer and he doesn’t flinch; instead, he casually takes another sip. “Nope. I have alternative sleeping arrangements.”
