Page 3 of Shock to the Heart

Trey, however, makes me flutter.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye while leading him through the foyer and kitchen on the way to the studio. Visitors usually scan this house as if they're trying to get some juicy detail about the famous people who live here. Trey's looking at the light fixtures. I like that.

When we reach the studio, though, his eyes widen. "Whoa. This is a lot of gear. I'm glad that my dad did the wiring."

"Yeah, there's two different circuits." I gesture to the panel in the control room with one hand and to the one in the recording area with the other.

"Good thing your parents didn't get some random uncle with a tool belt to do it for them." He turns to me with a cocked eyebrow. "I see that a lot. It's terrifying."

"Yeah, my parents can be flaky, but they take this studio very seriously." I try to stop my hands from fussing with the edge of my sweatshirt. "Which is why I'm freaking out so much."

"Just breathe. It'll be okay."

Trey checks that both circuits are off at the board, then sticks an orange meter into the outlet to confirm it's dead before opening it. He doesn't seem to mind that I hover over him. He has an energy I've never felt before, and it's drawing me closer.

"The ground has come loose." He points to a couple of dents in the wall, frowning. "Has someone been kicking that wall really hard?"

"Ugh," I groan. "Their bass player Todd is an idiot. He always crashes into that outlet when he's dragging his huge beast of a Traynor amp around, laughing that the wall is in his way."

"And it looks like they had all this"...he gestures to four guitar amps and a monitor connected to the same power bar…"all plugged into the one outlet."

"I guess. There was a huge jam session last night before they flew out this morning."

He stands up and looks around at the other two empty outlets in the corners. "Why do people do that? Only use the first outlet they see, and plug every single thing into it?"

"Musicians," I shrug. "Nuff said."

He smirks, placing his hand on the wall before kneeling down again. He stands up right away, frowning. There's a big wall hanging in front of him, and he lifts the fabric off the curtain brackets carefully to set it aside. His palm gently skims all around the drywall. "What's directly above this spot?"

"Nothing is above the studio, but the main house is on the other side of that wall. I guess that would be my parents' bathroom."

"Is the bathtub right there?" He points.

"Yes?" I stare at him nervously. "Two days ago Mom was taking one of her epic long baths and fell asleep in the tub. I heard Dad grumbling that she spilled a ton of water, but she said it was only a minute before she mopped it up with some towels."

"No offense to your mom, but I think she may have lied. The drywall is chilly, which means it's damp. Excuse me, I have to get something from the van."

Trey returns in moments. He runs some kind of scope thing into the outlet hole and up the wall, studying the results on a viewing panel. To me, it just looks like a bunch of gray smudges.

"When this much water soaks the wires, they're toast," he says, pointing to the screen. "Well, soggy toast." He gives me a rueful smile. "I'm really sorry, Electra. I have to punch a hole at the top of this wall and redo the wiring in this area."

"Can't you just…" I collapse, sitting down on the huge bass amp. "Ugh, I knew this would never work."

"There's no quick fix that's also safe."

I'm already nodding sadly, all of the energy draining from my body. "They're coming back Monday night. This was my one chance to use the studio alone."

Trey reaches out to tap me lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. It's not a ton of work, it's mostly the drying time."

He pulls over a wooden guitar stool. "I'll take out a chunk of this wall and caulk anywhere the bathtub may have leaked. Then dry it out, replace the wiring, patch the wall, add a few thin coats of drywall compound that should dry quickly, and sand it down. Then repaint."

He stares into the middle distance for a moment, thinking. "If you don't mind me basically popping by every four hours here, eight hours there for the whole weekend, I could probably have it done for noonish on Sunday." He winks. "You can't put the wall hanging back until Monday. But you'd be able to use the studio."

"I guess it costs triple to have an electrician working weird hours over the weekend?"

He runs a hand through his thick hair. I love the way the waves on top look messily, effortlessly perfect. "Nah, I'll knock the price down to the bare minimum to make up for being in your space so much all weekend."

I'm tingling at the thought. Will he let me help him? Or at least bring him coffee and snacks? I know I shouldn't be so thrilled at the prospect of spending time with this sexy older man, yet the way his deep eyes lock with mine… He just might be thinking the same thing.

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