Page 85 of Snowed In

Keep it cool, Owen.Don’t scare the guy even more than you already have.

I turned the key. The engine sputtered, and nothing more. Frowning, I tried again. More sputters.

Please don’t let this be an omen.

On the third attempt, the engine caught. Revving it a few times, I sighed in relief before pulling off my drive.

Time for my date with a leaky pipe and a few hours in Rory’s company.

I whistled cheerily, my mood not even dampened by the ominous clouds overhead. Merry Christmas to me indeed.

Chapter Three

Rory

“Shit, shit, shit.”

My vocabulary seemed to have been reduced to a single word as I barrelled around my house. I wasn’t a messy person per se, but I’d worked a lot of long shifts this week. Knowing I had two days off for Christmas and no other plans, I’d left all my cleaning and tidying to do tomorrow.

Which would’ve been fine, if the man of my dreams weren’t on his way over.

I moved through the house like a cyclone, piling my arms high as I went. Rubbish went into the bin. Washing into the basket. Clean clothes hidden in the wardrobe to be sorted properly later.

On top of everything else, I hadn’t been able to find the stopcock. I was only thirty per cent sure Owen wasn’t having me on about it being called that.

I was just slotting the final dirty dish into the miniscule dishwasher when there was a firm knock on my front door. I froze for a moment before cursing at myself.

Pull yourself together, Rory. He’s come out late on a Fridayevening. Not just any Friday either, but Christmas Eve. You will not repay his generosity by making the poor man feel uncomfortable.

Slamming the dishwasher shut, I hurried to the door. Pausing with my hand on the latch, I took a steadying breath and arranged my face into what I hoped was a welcoming smile.

By which I mean, welcoming him into my house, not into my arse. I mean, I was very happy to do that too, but Owen was straight. He’d made it clear my attention was unwanted.

I flung the door open to find Owen on my step, dressed in his work clothes. Despite seeing him in this getup on a regular basis, it still made my tongue feel too thick for my mouth. I gobbled up every detail, everything from his warm dark coat to his heavy work boots. He even had a toolbox in one hand. It truly was a porn fantasy come to life.

Ask him if he’s here to inspect your pipes.

I smiled at him, ignoring my filthy inner voice. “Hi. Thanks for coming over.”

“Hey, Rory.” He gestured towards me, smirking slightly as I stayed planted in the doorway. “Can I come in? I’m good, but I’m not sure even I can fix the problem from outside.”

I groaned internally as my cheeks flushed. Fuck, he hadn’t even got inside yet and I’d made it weird. “Of course. Sorry.”

I stepped back so he could enter. A woodsy, cinnamon scent hit me as he passed and I bit my lip. Fuck, he smelled edible. That was the problem with the coffee shop—the scent of coffee covered everything else.

Actually, I didn’t think that was a problem. It was probably a good thing. If I’d known how good Owen smelled before now, I undoubtedly would’ve embarrassed myself even further.

“Kitchen’s straight ahead,” I said. “Go right through.”

Owen paused. “Want me to take my boots off?”

Yes, please, along with everything else.

“No, it’s fine. The floors in here are awful, you’re probably better keeping them on.”

“Is this a rental?”

“Yeah.” I winced as we stepped into the kitchen and I saw how much the puddle had grown. I hadn’t really paid attention as I was buzzing around tidying up. “The landlord seems more concerned about affording his next strawberry daiquiri than maintaining his properties.”

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