Page 30 of He Has MVP (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Chapter 12
Aiden
Relegated to dressing in the guest room into the clothing I wore three days and a lifetime ago when I got here, I’m not sure how to read Pink today. I’d expected major softening in her attitude toward me after last night. Maybe it was a mistake to get up early and leave her. But I knew I needed to get those sandbags out at the wall. No way I’d be able to look O’Rourke in the eye if I didn’t at least make the effort to prevent water damage.
With the gusts of wind getting wilder by the minute, I’m not sure if our efforts will work. I’m also not sure when or how we’re getting off the island, but today we have to. Pink was right about that. Throwing on my Brawlers zip-up hoodie over the T-shirt, I’m all packed and ready to go.
Until I hear a sickening crack, loud and long, followed by the more sickening sound of a crash and crunching metal. The sound came from out front. I drop my duffel and run for the front door.
“What was that?” Pink yells. Half dressed, buttoning up her shirt, she follows me in one of those half-runs hampered by her heels.
Throwing the door open, I run outside and come stumbling to a stop when I see the source of the crashing sound.
“Fuck.” I don’t care how loud my shout is. A gust whips around us as Pink comes to a stand next to me, one hand covering her mouth, her gorgeous expressive eyes showing the shock I feel.
A tree limb had split away from the main trunk of a giant fifty-year old oak. The limb has to be twenty-five feet long and a foot in diameter, sporting several branches. And the fucking thing must weigh a ton. Literally. “Fuck,” I say again.
The fallen limb lays across the now demolished hood of the Land Rover.
Pink clutches my arm, eyes still wide, showing off the sparkling hazel depths. Only she could distract me from disaster right now, but she remains focused.
“Do you think you can get the branch off the car? We need to get to the ferry. My phone’s not working—I just tried it—so we can’t call for an Uber or a taxi or whatever. If they’re even operating.” Wind whips her hair as her hands fly around and her voice rises in panic. Pink panic. A reasonable response for anyone else. I reach out and push the hair from her face. One thing I have to thank the storm for, because I like doing it, touching the silky strands of her hair and the porcelain perfection of her skin.
“Never fear, Pink. You have a civil engineer on the job.”
She grins, sticks her tongue firmly in her cheek and says, “I don’t know, I think this might be a job for a big brawny hockey player.”
“Let’s get to it.” I make my way through the smaller leafy branches to where the main mass of the limb hit the car. It looks bad, but I keep my suspicion to myself. There’s likely more than body damage done from the looks of the dent in the hood.
Based on the size of it, it appears the limb will be too heavy to move, but you never know about hollow spots. So I test it, giving the wood a shove. Then with two hands gripping it securely and a foot wedged on the bumper for leverage, I tug at it with everything in me. Before I burst some blood vessels, I give up, panting with the exertion. Kind of reminds me of when I started weight lifting as a kid. Feeling weak and disappointed, I’m bent over catching my breath.
“You all right, champ?” The irreverence doesn’t cover up her concern entirely. If she were one of the guys, I’d give her the finger. But Pink makes me laugh.
“Time to rig up a rope and pulley system,” I say. “We can fling a line over that branch up there.” I point. “If you’re up for climbing the tree to help me out?” I’ll need her cooperation, but I’m not worried about her rising to the challenge and she doesn’t disappoint me.
“Sure. It’s been a while, but I’ve been known to climb a tree or two.”
“Yeah? That in the ballerina playbook?”
She swats my arm and my dick lights up. Shit. She has me trained to enjoy her little slaps. Before the notion takes hold and robs me of the ability to think, I head for the garage and wave her to follow me.
“Shouldn’t take long to set up. As long as we can find the materials we need.” After digging around, I assemble the materials and Pink changes her shoes before climbing up with a boost from me—my favorite part of the operation.
We get the rope and pulley set up and leveraged against the tree’s main trunk, I pull, using all my muscle power and my weight. I manage to heft the limb off the car just enough, then shove it with my booted foot to the side until it crashes to the ground.
“Obstacle number one down, now to deal with obstacle number two,” I say. A clock ticking in my head because we need to get off this island by tonight. Somehow. The team meeting in the morning is starting to loom larger in my mind.
“Obstacle number two?” She says as she moves closer to the car, climbing over the leafy branches and letting out a breath. “Shit. Let me guess. Opening the hood could be a problem. Also,” she says turning to me, “I bet you my next client’s net worth that the engine is damaged under here.” She bangs on the already battered hood.
“You definitely have a propensity for violence, you know that?”
She rolls her eyes. “How do we open the hood?”
“We need a either a blow torch or a metal cutter,” I say as I walk back to the garage.
It was a long shot, so I’m not surprised when we find neither a blow torch or metal cutter, anywhere on O’Rourke’s property. He has a lot of stuff, but the list falls shy of metal shop equipment. Note to self—when I buy my house it will have a big-ass outbuilding with a fully equipped shop.
“What now?” Pink says as I help her from the tree after she goes back up to disassemble the pulley system. She lands on the ground, close to my arms. I want to wrap her up, but she quickly steps away like I have a disease. Maybe I do. It’s called incurable horniness and it shows up whenever I’m in her vicinity. Sometimes when she’s on my mind. Lately in my dreams. Fuck.
