Riptide (Renegades 6)
She moved to the bottom of the stairs, rummaged in a toolbox there and offered him a flashlight and a pair of pliers. Grant took them, and waded into the water in search of the damaged pipe.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend back in DC?” she asked.
“Because that’s how I like it.” 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.
He tried a few more times—unsuccessfully. But the manual labor worked out some of his frustration.
Pausing, he pulled the flashlight from his mouth. “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?” he asked.
“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. So in her view, she probably had felt like she’d had to lie a little to get Grant over here.
“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 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.
“I’m just sore. Between the fixes at the house and practices, I’ve used it a little too much this week.”
After loosening the attached piece, he sloshed toward her with the bad length of copper.
Faith’s body loosened in relief and she smiled. “Oh, thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” He set all the tools and the pipe on shelves nearby. “Are you sure you can get the rest, or do you want me to help while I’m here?”
“I can get it.”
“Fine.” He gave her a nod and sloshed toward the stairs. “See, that’s how it works, Faith. You ask for a favor, I say ‘Sure I’ll help’. Then you say ‘Thank you’ and I say ‘You’re wel—‘“
Something tugged on his shirt, and he turned to see what he’d snagged it on. And found Faith holding a fistful of his tee.
“And I say, I’m sorry.” She released his shirt. “I should have just asked. And I really appreciate you coming over. This...freaked me out a little. I haven’t had anything big go wrong since my dad died.”
His heart twisted. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be to handle all this on your own.”
“Most days...” She shrugged. “I manage. But
while you’re here...” She looked frazzled and vulnerable and so fucking beautiful with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. “I was going to ask you tomorrow when you came by, but you’re here now, so...” She took a breath. “Do you want to go to dinner maybe? Or something? On a night when, you know, you don’t have practice?”
A zing of excitement coursed through his chest, but he tamped it down. Grant planted his hands on his hips and lifted his brows. “Did you just ask me out?”
She dragged her lower lip between her teeth, fidgeted with the hem of her tee, and smiled a little. “Um, yeah.”