Page 49 of One More Shot
‘Yes!’ Eliott sounds borderline hysterical. ‘Yes, you do and—’ She gasps loudly. ‘How on earth—’
I poke my head into the kitchen and the cause for all the panic tonight is suddenly apparent. There’s water everywhere and the only thing stopping it from leaking into the hall and the rest of the house is a mountain of paper towels Gloria has propped up by the entrance.
Gloria lifts a brow at me as I step over the towels and wade through the mini lake that’s suddenly appeared in her kitchen. ‘Any chance you also do some plumbing on the side?’
‘Afraid not,’ I say with a wince as the water sloshingaround my ankles slips into my shoes. ‘But I know a guy. I can give him a call—’ I pause and glance over at Eliott, wondering if I’m over-stepping. She’s not looking at me, though. Instead, she’s crouched down by the sink, pulling anything vaguely bucket-related out from the cupboard beneath it.
Figures.
She’s been in here for less than a minute and already she’s trying to solve the problem and make things right.
‘What happened?’ Eliott asks as she begins scooping water from the floor and pouring it out of the open window. I join her, grabbing a bucket from the pile she’s made, and she gives me a soft, thankful smile.
It’s the kind of smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
‘No idea,’ Gloria says with a tired shrug. She sinks into a nearby chair and lets the mop in her hands fall to the floor. ‘I came in to make a cup of tea before bed and this is what I walked into. I did try to call you.’ She says the last part almost accusingly and Eliott stiffens slightly.
‘I was out.’ She avoids her grandmother’s eye. ‘And my phone was on silent.’
Gloria makes a grunting sound and I find myself standing a little straighter as her narrowed gaze slides over to me. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon, Dane.’
The statement is innocent enough, but there’s something in her tone that’s weighed down with implication.
I force an easy grin onto my face. ‘Always happy to help.’
I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I’m pretty sure Gloria’s lip twitches. ‘You’re quite the gentleman.’
‘Why don’t you go and rest, Nan?’ Eliott cuts in quickly. ‘I’ll get the kettle on for you, and we can sort this out.’
She’s included me in the rescue effort without even asking, and it doesn’t bother me at all. Like it’s completely natural for me to be spending a Saturday night with my jeans tucked into my socks, scooping buckets of murky water out of a kitchen window.
Gloria shuffles out of the kitchen and leaves us to it. As she brushes past Eliott, she gives her a quick squeeze on the shoulder. I get the impression that Gloria’s not the overly affectionate type, and even Eliott seems to be surprised by the fleeting gesture.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she says.
Eliott’s eyes widen. ‘You don’t have to thank me, Nan. Of course—’
Gloria waves a dismissive hand in the air and then disappears out into the hall. Once it’s just the two of us again, Eliott turns to me and I’m glad to see that she looks a little more like her usual self.
The storm of emotions that had been pasted across her face since we left the club is mostly gone, and she looks much less likely to collapse into tears now.
‘You know you don’t have to stay?’ she says as she resumessifting the water from the floor and into the bucket. ‘I’ve got it handled here.’
‘I know.’
Her small smile widens slightly when I don’t make any move to walk out of the door.
It takes us a good few hours to get Gloria’s kitchen into a vaguely manageable state. We source the leak to her rarely used dishwasher and plug it as best we can, hoping it’ll hold until my plumber friend can get round on Monday.
We don’t talk much as we work, but it’s a comfortable silence. If you’d have told me just three months ago that I’d be spending my Saturday night doing something like this, I’d have laughed in your face.
Typically my weekends are spent with pretty girls doing all kinds offunthings in the comfort of my bedroom.
I look up.
Eliott’s leaning against the kitchen counter. Not long after we started, she realised that the skin-tight outfit that she’d worn to the club probably wasn’t the best for a task like this, and she ran upstairs and changed into some oversized sweats and pulled her thick curls into a bun.
Pretty girl? Check.
