Diamond in the Rough (Diamond J #2) (10 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Shower

Aidan walked into the house, swept off his cowboy hat and tossed it on the back of the couch. He called out, “Anybody home?”

There was no answer, so he headed down the hallway toward his bedroom. He pulled clean clothes out of his dresser and went to the bathroom, peeling off clothes as he went. His shirt landed on his bed, his jeans on the floor. He cranked the water on, more hot than cold, and let the steam roll. The water coursed over him, soothing his aching muscles and sloughing off the dirt, grime and sweat of the afternoon.

He closed his eyes and held his face up to the spray of water, then reached up and turned the shower head to massage. He turned his back to the water and rolled his shoulders under the pulsating jets of water, letting the shower do the work of unknotting his muscles.

His thoughts turned to Gina. She was so unlike any other woman he’d met, total opposite of the girls he’d dated in high school, the girls his mother approved of. Those girls all looked the same. Long blonde hair, painfully thin. They drove expensive cars, carried bags with designer labels prominently displayed, and had weekly manicures. They were fake, but Gina struck him as genuine.

And as a mother. She had a son. He had not seen that coming. The anger that flashed in her eyes when she'd come out of the house after her kid fell off the calf had been enough to scare him. Talk about shooting daggers. She'd been like a mama bear, ready to rip him to shreds. He wanted to ask Gina out, but he wasn't sure he wanted to start anything with a woman who had a kid already. That was more responsibility than he was ready for.

He grabbed the bar of soap off the little shelf and ran it over his body, lathering up. In spite of his hesitation, he longed to run his hands through Gina’s thick, auburn hair. When he’d left the store, he’d noticed the red highlights that caught the sunlight. Her curves drew his eyes down her body, over her generous breasts, her narrow waist, her hips. He turned slowly, running his hands up and down his body, washing the suds off until he was slick and clean.

He was going to ask her out. If she turned him down, she turned him down. But he was tired of being alone, hanging out with the guys. He wanted a woman to go out to eat with, to go riding with, to go dancing with.

But not just any woman. He wanted Gina Montgomery.

He stepped into his clean Wranglers and tugged them up over his hips, then pulled a clean t-shirt on. It was dollar night at the Come On Inn. He'd go have a drink and put Gina out of his mind.

She was a mother. She had a little boy. He wasn't ready for that.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Broken Things

Gina pulled the handle of the dishwasher and eased it open. A puff of steam belched out of the machine. She waited until the steam dissolved, then opened the door a bit more and let it fall open. Water gushed out of the open door and spread across the floor. She snatched the dish towel off of the stove handle and dropped it on the floor to sop up the water. She grabbed the little half circle kitchen rug and tossed it in the sink. Oh, well, it needed to be washed anyway.

Not like she wanted to do it at night after a long day at work, though. With a sigh, she turned to the task of mopping up the water as the water spread across the linoleum.

“Damn!” she muttered as she sopped up water, then stood to wring the towel out into the chipped porcelain sink.

A whooshing sound behind her sounded. She spun around to see water jetting up from the lower spray arm. She slammed the door shut, but the spray continued. The water needed to be turned off. She snatched the flashlight off the counter and darted out the back door. Clouds obscured the moon, leaving the night dark. The flashlight beam bounced along the concrete block foundation as she searched for the opening to the crawl space. The dark door appeared as a shadow nearly hidden behind the tangle of weeds that had grown up around the shrubbery. She dropped to her knees and tugged on the handle. Dampness soaked through her jeans. The stubborn door refused to budge. She set the flashlight down and used both hands. With a grunt, she finally unlodged the hatch. It swung open and the musty smell of earth and things she didn't want to think about swept over her.

If she remembered right, there was a handle on the main water pipe that served as a shut off for the entire house.

"Hold it right there!" A gruff voice sounded right behind her.

She tried to spin around and push herself up at the same time, but her foot twisted under her, caught on a root. With a grunt, she fell to the side. "What the hell?"

The man reached down, grabbed her upper arm and jerked her to her feet. "Let's go have a chat with the owner of the house."

She snatched up the flashlight up as he lifted and swung the beam up to shine in the man's face. "You," she spat.

"Huh?" He held his hand in front of his face to block the beam.

Anger spiked, sharpening her voice. "Let go of me right now, Aidan Brackston!"

He blinked in the bright light and grunted. "What? Gina, is that you?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Suddenly, she remembered what she was doing, the machine spewing water into her kitchen. She jerked her arm away from him and dropped to her knees again. "I don't have time for this."

"I was going to the Come On Inn and saw you out here. " His tone was wounded, yet defensive. "There's been so much crime. All I saw was a dark figure lurking around in the shadows."

Gina sat back on her feet and leaned forward awkwardly, shining the flashlight inside, trying to see the turnoff.

"What are you doing out here?" He squatted next to her, his thigh against hers.

She pressed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. The kitchen was going to be flooded by the time she got this done. "I said, I don't have time for this. My dishwasher has blown up and I have got to get the water shut off." Her fingers brushed the cold metal of the handle. She wrapped her hand around it and tugged, but it refused to budge. She let out a low growl.

Aidan squeezed in next to her and ran his hand along her arm, his fingertips barely brushing her skin. "Let me help." His fingers were warm. His body pressed against hers, his chest against her back as he reached under the house. His mouth was inches from her ear. She tensed as his fingers reached the handle, then released her hold and let him take over.

He pushed the handle up with a grunt, then settled back on his heels. "Okay, it's off. Now let's go see about this dishwasher." He straightened and held out his hand, palm up. "You home alone?"

Gina reached up, took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. "I'm fine. I can handle it myself." She brushed the dirt and grass off her jeans.

"I'm sure you can, but why? I'm here and happy to help." He smiled at her.

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She was so used to handling things on her own, it felt odd to accept his offer. She led the way to the back door and opened the kitchen door for him.

He strode in, looked around at the water and settled his fists on his hips. Wet grass stains darkened the knees of his dark blue jeans. "Okay, you got some old towels to sop up the water?"

She nodded, then hurried to the linen closet in the hallway to gather supplies. By the time she returned, he had the door of the machine open and was scooping water out of the basin into the sink with a large plastic cup.

As she sopped up water, she watched him bend over and straighten, time after time. She moved beside him and wrung out a bath towel, then dropped it on the floor and grabbed another. With the two of them working together, they got most of the water cleaned up in fairly short order.

She peeled off her soaked socks and tossed them aside.

He peered inside the machine. "So, what was it doing?"

"It kept filling with water and wouldn't quit. And it made a weird noise."

He shut the door, swept his cowboy hat off, then said, "Sounds like the timer went out. Without that, the machine doesn't know to quit filling. Do you have a screwdriver?" He set his black hat on the counter.

"Yes." She hurried to the laundry room and returned with her pink tool bag and sat it on the floor next to him. She stole a glance at him without his hat. His thick dark hair curled over the collar of his white t-shirt.

He squatted in front of the machine, running his fingertips over the edge of the door. He glanced at her tool bag. "Pink?"

"So?" She retorted. "At least I've got tools."

One corner of his mouth quirked up. "Guess as long as they work, color doesn't matter." He fished in her bag until he found the screwdriver he needed. "Do you know how to shut off the breaker that this is on?"

"Of course." She didn't tell him that she knew because every time she ran the toaster and the dishwasher at the same time, it threw the breaker. She hurried to the laundry room, flipped the switch and returned. "It's off."

He squatted and sat back on his heels as he quickly removed eight screws from the front panel of the machine. As he removed each one, he dropped it into Gina's outstretched palm.

Her brow scrunched as she watched him pull the panel off the front, exposing the guts of the machine. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yup. Like I said, it's probably the timer." He pointed at a round motor housing, then ran his fingers along the wires extending from it. "You got a label maker? Or some colored tape?"

"Be right back." She hurried to her bedroom and returned with a small white carousel of washi tape rolls. "Will this work?"

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Scrapbooking stuff?"

"Washi tape."

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "That'll work." He pulled off two short strips of brightly colored chevron tape and wrapped them around the wires before he disconnected them. He pointed at what he'd done. "That'll make it easier to remember how it goes back together."

Smart, she thought. There was more to him than she'd initially thought.

"Don't suppose you have the owner's manual?" He glanced up as she shook her head, then pulled the door open and peered at the stickers on the edge of the machine. "Ah! Here we go."

"What are you looking at?"

"The schematics. To see what the voltage should be. Don't suppose you have an ohmmeter?"

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. "A what?"

"A little handheld tool that measures electricity."

She shook her head. "I have a stud finder." As soon as the words left her mouth, heat crept up her cheeks.

He winked at her. "Don't need that. You already found me." He grinned, exposing his dimple.

She rolled her eyes.

"Let me check the toolbox in the truck. I'll see if I've got mine." He walked out the back door and she watched out the window as he jogged along the side of the house. He moved with a natural athleticism. He was probably a jock in high school.

He returned and held up the bright yellow tool triumphantly as he pushed through the kitchen door. "Found it!"

She watched as he hooked the red and black wires to the timer motor he'd taken from the dishwasher. The needle on the ohmmeter moved just a twitch. He made a disapproving noise. She looked at the reading on the tool, then at the frown on his brow. "What?"

He tapped the motor. "It's bad. You need a new timer motor."

"Great," she groaned. "How expensive is that going to be?"

He shrugged. "Not as expensive as a new dishwasher."

Her eyebrows rose. He was right. She chewed her lower lip, then huffed out a sigh. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to replace it if I buy it tomorrow?" She hated asking for help, but a little thrill of excitement ran through her at the prospect of seeing him again so soon.

"You could probably convince me." He turned to face her, just inches between them.

The dark stubble along his jaw gave him a rough look. She wondered what he looked like freshly shaved. Without his hat shadowing his face, his blue eyes seemed even brighter. He gazed down at her and his lips parted slightly. She shifted forward slightly and, after a moment's hesitation, placed her hands on his chest. He grinned down at her, deepening the dimple in his cheek.

She breathed, "How can I thank you for coming to my rescue?" For the first time in a long time, she felt like a woman, not a mother.

He lowered his head, his blue eyes hooded. "I can think of something." He traced his finger along her cheekbone, then along her jawline. "You are beautiful."

She started to shake her head. "I'm not--"

"You are." His smile faded. "Before we go any farther, I need to know something."

She swallowed hard and breathed, "Anything."

"Is Toby's daddy still in the picture?"

Her heart dropped. Here we go, she thought. Aloud she whispered, "We divorced years ago."

One corner of his mouth quirked up. "Good. I don't share well."

They stared at each other for the longest moment, Then he tilted his head as she stood on her tiptoes. Their lips met, lightly. The first touch was tentative, exploring. She looked up at him and wondered what she was doing. This was unlike her, but she couldn't ignore the attraction that pulled her toward him.

His hands settled on her shoulders, then trailed down her back, pulling her closer. He caressed her as his mouth claimed hers. His tongue flicked against her lips, teasing them open. She felt warmth spread deep inside her, desire taking over her body as her tongue met his. She pressed against him, wanting to be closer, straining up on her tiptoes in response to his deepening kiss.

"Why is the floor wet, Mom?"

She jerked and pulled away, wiping Aidan's kiss from her mouth as she spun away to face her son. Toby stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

Aidan cleared his throat and stepped back. He swept his hat up and settled it on his head.

Gina rushed forward and put her hand on Toby's shoulder. She spun him around, then glanced over her shoulder at Aidan. "I'm sorry," she mouthed. "I'll be right back."

After Gina got Toby settled back in bed, she returned to the kitchen. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, irritated at the flush she felt on her cheeks. She looked up at him through her fringe of lashes. "Sorry about that."

Aidan shrugged. "No problem. I'm surprised he slept through all that." He motioned toward the exposed dishwasher. "Do you want me to come back tomorrow and finish?"

She nodded, then pulled a pen out of the mug on the counter and scooted a notepad toward him. "If you want to give me your number, I'll call and let you know I've got the part."

He jotted his number down then gestured toward the motor on the counter. "Take that with you to make sure you get the right part." One dark eyebrow raised. "Or would you like me to get it for you?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, I'll get it. I don't want to put you out any more."

He settled his hat on his head. "See you tomorrow."

With that, he was gone.

She watched him through the window and felt all resolve dissolve. It was a good thing Toby walked in when he did, because she would've let Aidan take her right there on the wet linoleum.