Page 81 of Snowed In

Christmas Pipe Dreams

Lark Taylor

Chapter One

Rory

You know what I really needed after a super shitty day at work?

A flood in my kitchen.

I dropped my messenger bag on the floor, whimpering in dismay at the water pooling from under the cupboards. Why did this stuffalwayshappen to me? It wasn’t like I was a bad person. I donated to charity. I helped little old ladies cross the road. I even snuck free coffee to Paul, the homeless bloke who slept in the doorway next to the cafe where I worked.

That last one had got me in trouble far more times than I could count, but seeing as we were understaffed as it was, I wasn’t going to be fired for it any time soon. Besides, it wasn’t like the massive chain I worked for was going to suffer the loss of one fucking Americano.

Sowhydid the universe love to pick on me? First there was my car, which gave up the ghost two months ago, and I couldn’t afford to get it repaired until the New Year. Then there was the heating, which had packed up three weeks ago, yet my landlord hadstillnot managed to get anyone to repair it. No amount of pointing out that he legally had to provide heat had got him to move any faster. Probably a bit difficult for Michael to be bothered given he wasn’t even in thecountry. No, he was in Spain, not needing to worry about trivial things like heating. The fucker used my rent, and the money from hismanyother properties to keep him in a lifestyle even Kim Kardashian might call excessive.

All that plus the fact that tomorrow was Christmas Day, a holiday I’d be celebrating alone once again, added up to one thing.

The universe was out to get me.

Yes, I was being a bit ridiculous. All of these were first world problems, but given how little I had going for me in my life right now, this flood was honestly the final straw.

Grabbing every towel I had available, I set about mopping up the water as best I could. Problem was, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

It was no good. I was going to have to call Michael.

It took four attempts before he finally answered. His greeting was slurred, a loud band playing in the background.

Alright for some.

“Michael, it’s Rory from two Wren’s View. I’m sorry to bother you but?—”

“This isn’t about the fucking heating again, is it? I’ve told you, I’ve got a bloke coming.”

I gritted my teeth.Four months until the lease is up, then you’ll be free of this house and this man.Assuming I could find something else in my price range, that was. I’d been lucky to find this place.

Well, lucky was the wrong word, all things considered, but at least I had a roof over my head. Could be worse, I supposed. I could be back living with my ultra-conservative parents and their belief that I ‘just hadn’t met the right girlyet.’

There was no hiding my fabulousness, and I didn’t intend to try ever again. I’d take shitty landlords like Michael over my judgemental ‘parents’ any day. It’d been eighteen months since I’d moved here, and I had no intention of moving back any time soon.

“It’s not about that. I think a pipe has burst. The kitchen’s flooded.”

The litany of curses that erupted from Michael was a thing of beauty. When he was done, he went with his usual approach. “Well, you must’ve broken it somehow.”

I didn’t know what Michael’s other tenants were like, but I was absolutelynotgoing to be bullied into accepting the blame. “Can’t see how that’s possible, Michael. It’s not like I’ve removed the cupboards from the wall and taken a hacksaw to the pipes, is it? Now, are you going to call a plumber, or would you prefer to wait until it’s spread into the living room? The carpet is terrible in there, so I’m happy to go with that option. It’d mean more money for you in the long run, but I’m sure you’ve got plenty to burn.”

Thirty seconds later, I hung up triumphantly. Naturally, Michael had declared himself far too busy to make the call himself but had begrudgingly agreed I could do it on his behalf. He’d also be footing the bill. He’d announced that part magnanimously, like it wasn’t in the fucking contract between us.

Whatever. At least I had a solution now.

It wasn’t until I pulled up the number for the local plumber that I realised what this would mean. WhoexactlyI was about to call.

Owen.

“Oh heck,” I whispered, already feeling warmth climbing up my neck and spreading across my cheeks. I hadn’t even dialled yet and already I was tongue-tied.

Owen was a regular at the cafe where I worked. It wasn’t a surprise really, given we were the only option in a three-mile radius. Why an international chain had decided to open a shop in rural Wales was beyond me, but again, I wasn’t going to bite the hand that fed me.

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