Page 32 of The Complete Truth Duet
But, as the days rolled on, those daydreams spiraled into something else altogether.
My skin igniting under his callused hands.
His mouth gliding from breast to breast and then down between my legs—giving rather than taking the way I knew only Penn would.
The earth-shattering sensation of being coaxed to abandon, the rest of the world slipping into nothingness, leaving only him, me, and our merciless mouths behind.
Yeah. It had been a rough week filled with cold showers and sleepless nights.
This wasn’t exactly a terrible thing though, because on day number eight, I was tired, annoyed, and all around done.
Done waiting. Done feeling like a stalker. Done with…well, everything except getting to know the real Penn Walker.
So, on that particular morning, with both of the guys clanging around in my bathroom, I decided I was done letting him call the shots.
“How’s it coming?” I asked, leaning against the doorjamb of my deconstructed bathroom. The toilet and sink were sitting in my living room, and all of the moldy drywall had been ripped out, revealing a maze of rusty pipes.
Drew popped out from the inside of what had once been my linen closet. “It’s coming along about as well as you can expect from a building that was constructed by the Pilgrims.”
“I doubt the Pilgrims would be happy with you insulting them like that. Is any of it salvageable?”
His lips curled into a slow grin. “It’s going to have to be.”
I tipped my chin at the only remaining wall that divided my bedroom from the bathroom. “Any chance you can tear that down and put a door in to make it an en suite for me?”
“Any chance you could say that in English, Fancy Pants?”
I laughed. “Like an adjoining bathroom to my room?”
“Ahh. I think that stud might be structural, but I could probably put in a doggy door.” He dropped his gaze, giving me a flirty once-over. “You’re small enough to fit.”
“I’ll pass, but thanks.” Lifting my coffee mug to my lips, I cut my gaze to Penn.
He was on his knees, a wrench in his hand, doing something with the pipes where my sink should have been.
“So, Penn, how’s the apartment working out?” I asked his back.
He remained silent.
Drew answered though. “It’s good. Penn finally Herculesed the old couch and mattress down the stairs last night. Fingers crossed he took all of Hugo’s DNA with him.”
“Oh, gross!”
He tapped the tip of his nose. “Exactly. Now, if we can get the water back on so we can take a shower or actually use the bathroom without hoofing it down two flights of stairs only to wait in line at three a.m., we’ll be better than good.”
I slapped a hand over my chest and breathed, “Dear God, what is this utopia you speak of?”
Drew chuckled. Penn didn’t.
“Can I get you two some coffee?” I asked.
“Nah,” Drew answered. “I had some black sludge courtesy of the Stop and Shop.”
I faked a gag. “Ew! That place is disgusting. I wouldn’t walk through the door without a hazmat suit.”
He twisted his lips adorably. (Okay, fine. Mr. Plain wasn’t so plain anymore.) “So what you’re saying is I probably shouldn’t have eaten one of the little rolling hot dogs for breakfast?”
My mouth gaped open. “Oh God, no!”
He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. (Yeah, not even close to plain.) “Then definitely not two?”
“Oh sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I hate to be the one to tell you this…but there is a good chance you’re dead right now.”
He used two dirty fingers to check the pulse at his neck. “Nope, still ticking. Looks like you’re stuck with me until at least tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “They were really good hot dogs.”
I laughed, and he joined me—because that was what Drew did.
And through it all, Penn never so much as glanced in our direction—because that was what Penn did.
“You mind if I take a smoke break?” Drew asked.
“Not as long as you take it outside.”
He offered me a salute, and I turned sideways to allow him space to exit—which left me alone with Penn.
River and Savannah were at school, and my schedule for the day was packed.
Yet I stood there, staring at Penn’s back, determined to make him talk. “Any estimate on when you’ll get the water back on?”
The muscles beneath his shirt rippled and his wrench stilled, but he made no verbal response.
“I mean…a rough estimate would be fine.”
More silence.
“I’m sure you’re doing everything you can. I’m just curious. Are we talking days or weeks?” I shifted uncomfortably, twirling a curl around my finger. “Please don’t say months. I’m not sure how much longer I can deal with this. The girls have been at each others’ throats sharing two bathrooms. I gave them all little plastic baskets I got from the Dollar Shop to carry their toiletries, but if I hear one more argument about someone using someone else’s shampoo or toothpaste, I’m going to have to be checked into a padded room.”
