Blanket around his hips, he searched for the T-shirt he’d tossed off in the middle of the night, and a sharp pain shot from right behind his ear down his shoulder.
Fucking A.
He reached up and rubbed the aching spot between his neck and shoulder blade. The knot was just starting to ease when a woman’s squawk of a scream echoed through the drafty house, coming from the direction of the kitchen. Ford grabbed his gun and sprinted toward the sound, sliding to a stop in his bare feet in the doorway of the kitchen.
Gina stood in front of the sink with part of the faucet in one hand and her other hand pressed to where the water came out. What must have been one helluva water spray had plastered her brown hair to her head, and one long wet strand was stuck to her nose, running down the length of it, coming to a stop at the tip. As she looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise, a big drop of water hanging from the end of her nose fell. Of course, that just took his attention south over her chest—her nearly see-through tank top was so wet that it must have been in the direct line of the spray zone—and then farther down to the soft pink cotton sleep shorts that ended just below the round curve of her ass. His morning wood woke up again.
“Having a little bit of a problem?” he asked, letting his gun arm relax.
She huffed out a breath, no doubt aimed at the wet hair glued to her nose, and gave him a death stare. “Please tell me you weren’t lying about knowing home renovation stuff and that you can actually turn off the water.”
“That I most definitely can do.” He walked into the kitchen and put his gun down on the table before crossing over to her in front of the sink. “If you can just move over, I can open the cabinet doors and get to the valve.”
“If I could move, don’t you think I would have? One inch and the water cannon goes off again. My seal on this thing is tenuous.”
Great. She stood, feet planted shoulder-width apart, directly in front of the cabinet. “Can you pivot the lower half of your body?”
She turned in toward the cabinet.
“No.” He squatted down beside her, grabbed her hips, and rotated her the other way. “Like that.”
Except like that was bad. Very bad. Her sleep shorts were as thin as they looked, meaning not only could he feel the heat from her body where his palms cupped her hips, he could see the dark outline of the panties she wore under the shorts. His thumb started tapping a beat against her hip, and she inhaled a sharp breath. He looked up, took in how her nipples had pebbled against her tank top, and the desire turning her brown eyes to a dark walnut.
All of the air in his lungs came out in a rush. It wasn’t a frustrated groan, it was an exhale. So what if that was a Pyrrhic victory, he’d take any victory at all at this moment.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled and opened the cabinet.
“No problem,” she said, her voice breathy.
Trying his best to ignore the woman with the mile-long legs next to him, he peered under the sink and located the valve. Finally, something going right this morning. He grasped the knob and turned his wrist. The knob didn’t move, though. Lucky him, he had some built-up frustration that he could pour into it like WD-40. He gripped the valve tight and tried again. This time the damn thing, which probably hadn’t been touched in fifty years, gave way.
“Try now,” he said.
A half second later, cold water was everywhere and Gina was screaming curses again. By the time he’d stood up, though, she had her hand pressed against the half of the faucet that had been gushing water. A fresh river was dripping off her nose, and now her shirt was just wet and clinging to her tits in a way that made his mouth go dry.
Off-limits, Hartigan. She’s very off-limits.
That reminder was enough to move his gaze up to see the very-not-amused expression on her face. “Let me go check the main valve.”
“Good plan,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You know where it is?”
She closed her eyes and let out a sigh that would translate in any language to idiot. “Basement.”
He’d never been so glad to get out of a kitchen in his life. Not even when he was growing up at home and the rule was last one in the kitchen with Mom after Sunday family dinner had to do the dishes. He had six siblings, and at six foot two he was considered one of the short ones, so there were a lot of dishes after feeding a lot of big people.