Page 160 of Bend
I was overjoyed that she'd taken the rug rats with her today. I don't think I could've accomplished everything she had put on my 'to-do' list while having to drag those two along with me. Harper was at least somewhat manageable at two and a half, but Jackson was another fucking story. I mean, I don't do diapers.
At all.
I knew that someday I would, because having a little rug rat of my own was in the plan—eventually. But that was a long ways off.
I'd been at Trace and Lindsey's for about six weeks now. I had started going through my P.T. at Quantico a few weeks ago. (P.T. means Physical Training for those of you not familiar with military lingo.) And let me add that physical training is a bitch under any circumstances, but for someone who hadn't bothered to condition before starting the program (like me) it was damn near suicide.
I gathered up the groceries, taking them into the kitchen and setting them on the countertop.
Fuck!
Lindsey had added yet another one of her pink post-it notes to the fridge.
What now?
She must've stopped home while I was out.
(Beotch.)
Paige - Forgot to tell you that I have a plumber stopping by this afternoon between one and two. He's to fix the shower in the master bath and leave the bill with you. - L
Okay, whatevs.
At least I didn't have to go back out. Trying to navigate around the metropolitan D.C. area was a bitch. Hell, I don't know how many times I ended up in Maryland instead of freakin' Virginia!
I had just finished putting the groceries away when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to a dark-haired, brown-eyed dude that had a fucking tool belt on.
Damned if he wasn't built, too.
"Hey," he said, and I noticed right off that his voice was deep and sexy. "I'm scheduled to check out a leaking shower faucet in the master bath. Are you Mrs. Matthews?"
"Hi," I said, flashing him a smile as I opened the door wider to let him in. "Actually, I'm the sister-in-law from hell," I joked. "But Lindsey did leave a note saying you'd be here. Come on in."
Now it was his turn to flash a smile at me, showing perfectly even white teeth. The name embroidered on his blue work shirt read "Jason."
"Well, Jason," I said, with just a hint of flirtation, "Let me show you the way."
Fuck, his hair was thick and curly. His arms and shoulders were muscular; belly flat. I was guessing he was late twenties, possibly thirty.
Did I mention he was wearing a tool belt?
Yep—definitely loved the tool belt, especially the way that it was slung low on his hips. It even made a sexy jingling sound when he walked.
He followed me upstairs and then down the hallway towards the master suite. I gestured my arm towards the bathroom door that was just off of their bedroom.
I couldn't help but notice his sexy swagger as he walked past me into the bathroom, bending over just a bit to place his toolbox on the tiled floor. This guy exuded sexual energy from every fucking pore. Trust me, that's something I pick up on within seconds of meeting someone.
"I'll just leave you to it," I called out, going back downstairs. "I'll be in the kitchen if you have any questions."
"Yep," he called back, already starting to assess the plumbing situation in the bathroom.
He returned downstairs no more than ten minutes later, wiping his hands on a rag. "Just needed a washer replaced and I had one in my toolbox. I went ahead and checked the fitting and it was fine, so I went ahead and re-greased it. Tested the shower head out and it's working fine. No more dripping."
"That was fast," I said throwing a bit of a double entendre into the remark. "I guess that's a good thing sometimes, huh?"
He gave me a good-natured laugh, his eyes glancing down to my legs in a subtle, but obviously not too-subtle way. I bit back a girlish grin as I watched him swiftly pull out the bill slip from his back pocket and jot some numbers down on it. Ripping the top copy from the pad, I caught the sexy-ass grin he tossed my way as he handed it to me.
Oh yeah. Game friggin’ on.
