Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
"Caleb."
"What?"
"My name is Caleb."
"Oh. Well, thank you for coming to rescue me, Caleb."
"The pleasure is mine, Sutton Reynolds," I murmur. "But you left out something important when you called."
Her eyes go wide. It might be my imagination, but it looks almost like panic flows through them before she manages to school her expression again. "S-something important? Like what?"
"You didn't tell me that you're a fucking goddess."
Those long lashes flutter over her eyes, momentarily obscuring them. She exhales a shaking breath. And then quickly takes a step back. "Don't do that, Mr. Maverick," she says, her voice firm.
"Do what?"
"Don't tease me. It's rude." She narrows her eyes on me, her expression rife with annoyance.
"Who said I was teasing? You're fucking stunning."
"Do you try to sleep with all of your clients five minutes after meeting them?"
"No. Just you."
"Right." She rolls her eyes, clearly not believing me. "Well, good luck with that. It's not happening. The entrance to the crawl space is in the living room." With that, she spins on her heel and stomps back inside, her curvy ass swaying in those tiny shorts.
"Fuck my life," I mutter, watching her go. I don't know what I said to piss her off, but she clearly does not like me at all. I'm going to have to work my ass off to change her mind. Because I'm not leaving here until she agrees to go out with me.
Chapter Two
Sutton
"Christ on a cracker, Koda," I whisper, burying my face in the puppy's fur like that's going to cool me down or slow my racing heart. I have a feeling it won't. Especially since I can feel Mr. Tall, Dark, and Cranky staring at my ass as I stomp through the living room. Part of me wants to peek over my shoulder to see if I'm right, but I resist the urge. My panties are already wetter than the kitchen floor. And it's a ruined mess.
Whoever said plumbers were older men with big bellies and ill-fitting pants lied! Caleb Maverick is a bearded, tattooed giant with crazy blue eyes and muscles that deserve to be licked. I meant admired. Yes, admired. Who said licked? Not me.
His jeans definitely aren't ill-fitting, either. I saw his bulge in them. That deserves to be licked, too. Ugh. Admired.
"I'm going to hell," I whimper to my wicked little dog.
He licks my face, commiserating. He's probably going with me, so at least I won't spend eternity alone.
I stop at the kitchen door, floundering when water splashes against my legs. It's already an inch deep and beginning to seep into the living room carpet. Much longer, and the whole house will be a swimming pool.
Crap.
"Um, Caleb? The water is rising."
He stomps into the house, the whole floor rattling beneath his boots.
"What the fuck?" he growls, peering over my shoulder into the kitchen.
"I tried to tell you," I mumble, oddly satisfied by his alarmed response. I wasn't actually kidding when I told him the floodgates had opened in the house. When I went to sleep around ten, everything was normal. But when Koda woke me up to pee at three, things were definitely not normal.
"Here, baby." Caleb hooks an arm around my waist, carefully shuffling me out of the way. "Go sit down before you get wet. I'll figure out what the fuck is going on."
"I'm already wet."
He shoots me a smirk over his shoulder, his hot gaze drifting down my body. "Not wet enough, Sunshine. You aren't dripping. But don't worry, baby. You will be when I get my mouth on you and show you what I can do with my tongue."
"Oh, my god." I stomp around him into the living room, my cheeks pink.
His dark laugh rolls over me, puckering my nipples. I thought I hired a plumber, not the devil in disguise.
George Watson sent a crazy man to fix my plumbing. He's filthy, hot, and completely wicked. And my plumbing seems to like him that way a little bit too much. This is ridiculous. I should fire him and call someone else. Surely there's another plumber in this town who can help me?
"There isn't. But it's good to know your plumbing likes me, Sutton," he says from behind me, laughter in his voice as he pulls on his waders. "I plan to take good care of it. Where is the shut—off valve?"
"Under the kitchen sink," I whisper, flopping down onto the couch with a groan as he wades into the kitchen to figure out what's going on with the plumbing. I can't believe I said all of that out loud.
Actually, I can believe it. I've been doing the same thing my entire life. My thoughts just kind of spill out without my permission. It's my dad's fault! He's the same way.
My mom says he's been doing it since the day they first met.