Page 12 of Jingle Bell Jilt
“Thank you, Evan Barrington. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
I guffaw. “Uh, it’s the least I can do.”
“Maybe. But not all managers would do this much.”
I just stand there staring at her for multiple reasons. The first being that she thinks I’m the manager, which I suppose is only natural. Most people do not deal with their own vacation rentals. At least not around here.
But also, I’m surprised at how sincere she sounds. The woman that I saw yesterday—that Nathan has described to me—was not one I would have thought to be appreciative. Especially under these circumstances.
She disappears up the staircase, and I head into the kitchen to see if I can find someone to help ease my fears that this ruptured hose isn’t going to bankrupt me. Alright, it’s not going to bankrupt me. But I’m kind of cheap, remember? I need a number on the repairs before I can feel at ease.
* * *
I hang up the phone,relief spreading through me. Someone will be out within the hour to assess the damage. I should go shower, but the thought of wading through the water with the clean-up people changes my mind. I’ll shower afterward. But I should probably put on a shirt. I had noticed Shay glancing down at my bare chest several times. I want to feel pleased, but she’s just come out of a long-term relationship. She is probably more embarrassed for me than impressed.
She walks out of the guest room as I step out of my bedroom, pulling a shirt over my head. Her hair is still wet, but it’s pulled up into a ponytail at the back of her head. She’s wearing different yoga pants than earlier and a long tunic kind of shirt. I don’t think she’s wearing any make-up and I’m struck by how pretty she is. My stomach does this flopping thing that comes out of nowhere.
“I think I’ll get started on my laundry unless you want to shower first. I don’t want to use all your hot water.”
“I’m going to wait until after I wade through the water over there with the disaster guys.”
She perks up. “Oh, are they able to come out today?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Someone should be here within the hour. I’m glad I called when I did.”
“I’ll just stay out of your hair. Do I need to stay upstairs while the washer is running?” Her eyes widen slightly. “You know, after the whole pipe bursting thing, I’m a little leery.”
“Nah, I think you’ll be fine downstairs.” I raise an eyebrow. “But that makes me think that maybe I should buy some hoses and replace them all—just in case.”
“Probably a good idea.” She tosses her head and her hair bounces around her shoulders. “I’m going to grab my clothes and start a load. Then I’ll start calling around for a room.”
I grimace. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that.”
She waves me off as she heads down the stairs. I hear her grunt as she lifts one of the bags. They were likely heavy to begin with, but with all the water, they’re super heavy.
“Do you want some help with that?” I call down the stairs.
“I think I’m good.” She grunts again and I grin. Would she ask me for help even if she needed it? She tests the second bag and then moves some clothes into it from the first bag.
I wait for her outside the washer closet door. “Here’s where the washer and dryer are.”
She motions to the guest room. “I think I’ll take them in the bathroom and ring them out in the sink. I don’t want to get your carpet all wet.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
A knock sounds at the front door and I head down the stairs. “I think that might be the clean-up people.” I don’t know why I yell that. It’s not like it makes any difference to her.
“Good luck,” she calls.
A burly guy in a white uniform shirt and dark blue shorts with work boots stands on my porch. “Are you Mr. Barrington?”
I nod. “Yeah. Thanks for getting here so quickly. I don’t even know where to start with drying it out.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he says. “What happened?”
“The hose to the washing machine ruptured. I don’t know how long it was running, but it had to have been a while.” I open the door to the townhouse.
The man looks in and whistles. “It was running for a long time. I’d guess ten to twelve hours at least.”
