Page 10 of Clashing
“I think a pipe is loose. I’d fix it, but I don’t have any tools. If you give them to me, I can figure it out.”
“I’ll fix it for you after closing,” Dan said.
“I can look at it, Danny. You shouldn’t be on your knees.”
Oh no.Shouldn’t Mr. Flirty be fixing his friend’s bike? I rubbed my sweaty hands over my shorts and tried to avoid glancing at Ryker, who I hadn’t noticed sitting at the bar.
“Well . . .” Dan furrowed his brows. “I’d rather it was fixed for her soon.”
“It’s okay, I can wai—”
Ryker rose from his stool. “Tools in the same spot?”
“Yep. Scar, will you show him the way? This is Ryker, by the way. Ryker, this is Scarlett,” Dan introduced. “Ryker helps out around here.”
While I couldn’t think of an argument, Ryker, that ass, stifled a laugh when Dan was occupied with a customer. Ryker strolled into the back and returned with a toolbox. I glared. He gestured for me to go upstairs.
This seems dangerous.“I can figure it out.”
“You don’t have to, sugar,” he said, climbing the stairs.
Damn him. Damn his nice butt in front of me as I followed him up.
“Don’t call m—”
“Oh, right. I’m sorry. My bad, baby.” He winked at me over his shoulder as we ascended.
At the top, he leaned against the wall and waited. Huffing, I opened the door and led him to the kitchen. Ryker set down the tools, then turned on the sink. That hissing returned. He crouched and inspected underneath while I tried not to gawk.
He ended up lying on his back, head disappearing under the pipes. Without worrying he’d catch me, I fully appreciated him. His shirt tonight clung to him much like that first night. It rode up as he reached under the sink with a tool.
I salivated. Abs. Abs for days and a dusting of dark hair with a V leading . . .
Thankful he couldn’t see me, I fanned myself. My gaze continued over his jeans and thick thighs to his work boots.God, if he’s not the world’s most perfect specimen.
“That should do it.” He slid out from under the sink and turned the tap on.
Much to my dismay, he hadn’t failed. The water flowed, hiss-free.
He packed away the tools, then straightened and plopped the toolbox on the counter. “Anything else need fixing, sugar?”
I scowled. “How would you like it if I called you sugar?”
“Hmm,” he hummed and pushed off the counter, advancing toward me. His hand lifted and I flinched.
Dammit, no. I refuse to be scared of anyone lifting a hand.I held my ground as he tried again, tilting my chin up toward him. He invaded my space with another step closer. His hot breath hit my lips, and my body sparked with awareness.
“I wouldn’t mind it, baby. I wouldn’t mind it one bit. I like pet names.” My lips parted without my permission when he rubbed his thumb over my bottom one. “Why don’t you give it a try, and see how you like it?”
An ache pulsed in my lower half. “You’re the worst.” I scoffed, finding the strength to shove him.
“Theworst? Really? Come on, Scarlett,” he said, drawling my name. “I fixed your sink. You’re not going to thank me?”
Oh, I could think of a way to thank him. It included very few clothes.
No! Bad Scarlett.Deciding a response wasn’t safe, I rushed out the door. He laughed, but I ignored it and didn’t slow down until I found Dan at the bar.
“All good?” Dan asked.
