Quick Trick (Rough Riders Hockey 1)

“And I’m guessing that’s not all you thought would be awaiting you.” She gave him a smile and a shrug. “But you might still get Jangle Punch out of this if you play your cards right. Yuletide is just a block away. Unfortunately, I have to get this worked out before I can go anywhere.” She gave him an overly sweet smile and a dramatic bat of her lashes. “If you’d like to help, it might go faster.”

Grant heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“Don’t act all put out,” she said, amused by his disappointment. “You live three minutes away, and I have other people I can call to help. The door is right behind you.”

“So…I was your first call?”

She crossed her arms. “You were.”

That mollified him. Grant shrugged out of his parka. “Why’d the pipe break?”

“I don’t know. Everything’s insulated. Might have just suffered one expansion too many. I got the water turned off pretty fast, and I have everything I need to replace the pipe, but there’s one fitting that’s on so tight, I can’t loosen it. I’ve called three plumbers, none of whom are available for a minimum of three days—so much for emergency plumbers, right?”

He grinned at her. “You said I was your first call.”

She leveled a heavy-lidded look on him. “The pipe blew right at an elbow, and to fix it, I’ve got to get the elbow off. But it’s crimped down so tight, I can’t move it. If you can just loosen the fitting for me, I can do the rest myself.”

Of course she could. “You can do just about everything yourself, can’t you?”

“As a matter of fact,” she said, her smile way too sweet, her expression way too innocent. “But hey, if you want to fix my pipes while you’re here, Mr. Fix-it, I’m not going to stop you.”

“As a matter of fact,” he echoed her, “I would, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.” Her face pinked up, her gaze lowered, and she pushed her hands into her back pockets. The move made Grant focus on her chest. Made him realize her T-shirt was white. White and wet. And the curves it clung to made everything inside Grant ache.

“I figured.” Faith sloshed through the water to the bottom of the stairs, rummaged in a toolbox there, and pulled out a flashlight and a pair of pliers. She handed them to Grant. “Let’s talk about that when you’re done.”

Hope bloomed through him. He grinned and took the tools. “That’s way better than Jangle punch.”

He waded into the water in search of the damaged pipe, forcing his mind to getting this pipe fixed. He clamped the end of the small flashlight between his teeth, then gripped the fitting with the pliers and twisted—a movement his shoulder didn’t like much. The metal spun a little but didn’t loosen.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend back in DC?” Her question came out of nowhere and raised warning flags in Grant’s head. Faith was girlfriend material; it only made sense that she’d ask. It also only seemed fair that he was honest with her, even if it meant killing any chance he had of sleeping with her.

He pulled the flashlight from his mouth. “Because my life makes anything more difficult.” He glanced at her and she met his gaze, open and nonjudgmental. “And because that’s how I like it.”

When she gave a nod, he went back to work on the fitting—unsuccessfully.

He paused again. “I need another pair of pliers.”

Metal clanged against metal as she searched for more tools. Grant couldn’t keep himself from admiring the way her jeans pulled taut over her ass. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Because I was taking care of my dad and running the store. I haven’t had time for anything else.” She offered him another pair of pliers. “Here.”

He took them, humbled again. She had to be one of the most unselfish people he’d ever met. And she really didn’t have anyone to fall back on.

“What?”

Her question made him realize he was still staring at her. Grant shook his head and turned back to the pipe. “I was just thinking what a stupid prick Dillon was to let you go. Definitely his loss.”

She remained quiet a minute, and Grant rolled the pain from his shoulder.

“Well,” she finally said, her voice softer, “when you’re in the spotlight like he was, with everyone telling you how fantastic you are all the time, I guess your feet start to lift off the ground. And when you feel a little higher and mightier than others, I guess your needs somehow seem a lot more important.”

Those words hit their mark, and Grant’s stomach dropped. He paused and glanced at her over his shoulder. “You’re right,” he said, adequately humbled. “That does happen. It’s good to be reminded we’re mortal every once in a while.”

He replaced the light between his teeth, positioned the pliers, and used all his strength to twist. Three tries later, the fitting loosened and the elbow separated from the vertical pipe.

Pain burned through Grant’s shoulder joint, and he swore and rolled out the sting.

“Are you okay?” she asked.