I climb out of the car slowly, eyes locked on the chrome beast, my stomach doing something weird and traitorous that I refuse to acknowledge.It can’t be his. It shouldn’t be his.
Then, with my heart pounding a little harder than it should be, I step up to the front door and open it. Voices drift from the kitchen.Familiarvoices that tell me it is Gabriel who’s chatting up my grandma right now.
“Abuela?” I call out.
“Ah, in here, Alessia!” she replies, sounding far too pleased with herself for this to all be some wild coincidence.
I step inside—and immediately feel like I’ve walked into an alternate dimension. Because there, underneath my grandma’s sink like some kind of sexy, blue-collar plumber, is Gabriel Carpenter.Sleeves rolled up. Dirty jeans slung low on his hips. Hem of his shirt riding up in all the best ways revealing that dark patch of hair that I know leads down to the nicest cock I’ve ever ridden. Black hair a wreck under a backward baseball cap.
He pops his head out from underneath the sink and flashes me a slow easy smile.
My mouth goes dry.
“Hey, Aly.” He waves at me with a wrench still in his hand.Why is that so hot?
His long-sleeved T-shirt is way too thin for how freezing it isoutside. The sleeves are pushed up, tattoos fully on display, even though I know for afactmy grandma hates tattoos with a passion only a woman who drinks Cuban coffee like the world is about to run out could possess.
‘Why put a bumper sticker on a Mercedes?’
That’s what she used to say anytime I even casually mentioned getting a tattoo growing up.
“It’ll be a tiny one that I can cover up, Abuelita.”
“Feo.” (Ugly).And that was the end of the conversation. And yet here she is—smiling. Anddios mio!Is sheblushing right now?
No.Fucking.Way.
Gabriel reaches to the side of him, lifting a glass that looks suspiciously like a Cuba Libre, with zero ice, because of course my grandma wouldn’t give him ice, and takes a long sip.
“Thanks again, Ms. Martinez.”
She waves him off with a smile, giggling like she’s sixteen and clutching her chest like she’s in a telenovela.
I blink. “What’s happening here?”
My grandma smiles at me, finally tearing her eyes away from Gabriel. “Alessia, this is Gabriel Carpenter. He came over to fix my sink. He lives around the lake.”
I stare at them. “I see that… butwhy?” Or rather,how the hell did you two even meet?
“He was next door checking out my new neighbor’s bathroom when I saw him leaving.” She waves her hands like that explains everything. “He looked like he knew his way around a sink with all those muscles he has. So, I asked if he could take a look at mine. Thing’s been leaking, and I don’t want mold to start growing.”
I blink at her. “You could have asked me to help, Grandma…”
Gabriel takes another sip of his drink, eyes never leaving mybody. It’s insane how just one look from him is enough to have me shifting on my feet, my nipples hardening, heart racing. It’s like he’s undressing me with his gaze. I can practically read the dirty thoughts he’s thinking like they’re written all over his handsome face.
Anddammit, I wish I was wearing something a little cuter.
I’m in nothing but a pair of thin, black yoga pants with an oversized red sweatshirt that says the name of the elementary school where I teach at on the front. If I’d known I was seeing him and not hanging with my grandma, I might have put in some effort.
“You don’t know a thing about sinks, Alessia,” my grandma counters in her straightforward, direct manner.
I set the cookies I made onto the counter. “You’re right. But if you need something, you can always call me first.”
She smiles. “I had it handled.”
Point taken. She does not want my help. She is not the helpless woman that my mom tried to act like she was when she first convinced me to move in.
“Here.” I point at the plate. “I made these for you… Happy Valentine’s Day.”
