Page 6 of Handy

THAT ASS THOUGH.

A surprised laugh bursts from my throat. It sounds rusty as hell, like a screen door that hasn’t been used in ages. A warm feeling floods my veins, and I chuckle again, a little more restrained this time. These can’t be for me. I turn the card over just to be sure that I’m not missing any delivery or sender info, but there’s nothing other than the name of the flower shop—Little Shop of Flowers.

I look up again and glance around, half expecting someone holding a camera to step out of the bushes to tell me I’ve been pranked. The only person I spot is Ledger though, walking down the sidewalk, fully dressed this time, with a raccoon on a leash. I frown and blink, making sure I’m seeing that right.

He catches my eye and slows to a stop right in front of my house.

“Morning,” he calls cheerfully.

“Is that a raccoon?” If you’d asked me if I thought a raccoon would tolerate a leash, I would have asked what the hell you were talking about, but my answer would have been ‘no.’ The adorably chubby little rodent with Ledger doesn’t seem to mind though. It rolls around in the grass and then scampersaround him in circles, wrapping the leash around his legs. He’s apparently used to it, artfully unwrapping himself just as quickly.

“Yeah. I’m not technically supposed to have her though, so if anyone asks, she’s just a cat with really distinctive markings.” He winks conspiratorially. I rumble an amused sound in my throat. Ledger’s eyes drop to the vase of flowers clutched in my hands and his smile widens. “Did someone send you flowers?”

“I guess so.” I shrug. “There’s no name on them though, so I’m not sure they’re actually meant for me… or who sent them.”

“Sounds like you have a secret admirer.” He waggles his eyebrows.

The thought is so absurd that I actually full-on laugh again. Rusty and wheezy, the sound rumbles in my chest and makes my throat ache from years of disuse. That warm feeling pulses in my chest again and I smile for a few more seconds, enjoying the fantasy as long as I can. Then I clear my throat, and my face falls back into my usual resting frown.

“I doubt it,” I say gruffly before turning and heading inside to put the flowers in the kitchen. By the time I step back out, Ledger and his raccoon are gone.

LEDGER

I’m still thinking about the cute-as-fuck smile Griff got when I suggested he might have a secret admirer. I thought about it all day. I pictured it while Jericho and I were clearing a fallen tree from the middle of a hiking trail and all through my afternoon manning the education center at the park. Eight-plus hours later, I still have butterflies about it. I wonder what else I could do to make him smile like that. Maybe I’ll just send him flowers every day for the rest of my life.

I sigh happily at the thought and unlock my front door. As soon as I swing it open, TP comes bounding out with anextremely concerned expression on her little bandit face. I didn’t even know raccoons could look concerned.

“What happened?” I call as she dives into the bushes next to the door, and then laugh to myself. What did I expect? That she would tell me what exactly freaked her out? I can hear the jingle of the bell on her collar, so I know she’s not taking off, just hiding. “Hello?” I call, cautiously stepping inside.

There’s a weird whooshing sound like running water. That can’t be good. I follow it through the house and into the living room. That water spot I wasn’t sure was new or not is apparently the least of my worries. Either that or I’m a complete dumbass who really should have worriedmoreabout it yesterday. Probably that one.

But the past is the past, and the present is a soggy, bulging ceiling with a steady drip of water raining down to pool on my wood floor and soak my furniture.

“Noooo,” I wail, holding my hands up like an absolute moron, as if I’ll be able to catch the indoor rain in my cupped palms before it does any more damage. “Please stop,” I beg, looking around desperately, hoping to spot some magic solution to this problem before…

The bulge bursts and all I have time to do is yowl like a dying cat as plaster and water drench me and flood my living room. Is having your life flash before your eyes a thing that only happens when you’re dying? What about all of your stupidest decisions flashing before your eyes? Like buying a cheap house and lying to myself that I could learn how to fix it up, or refusing swimming lessons as a child because I had an aversion to public pools… or, more accurately, to the idea of other people peeing in public pools. The latter might end up being the bigger of the two mistakes. Oh god, I don’t want to die drowning in my own living room.

I scream again, more out of despair and frustration than anything else as the water just keeps coming. And then, like a mirage in the desert, like an angel appearing right in the middle of a disaster, I blink, and Griff is there. His face is screwed up in a horrified scowl and his white shirt is soaking through with every passing second, clinging to his soft belly and broad chest. I shake my head like a wet dog to clear some of the cold water running down my face, and then I just stare at him.

“Where’s your water shutoff?” he shouts over the roar of the water.

“Um… in the basement?” Water shutoff? Duh. I was standing here thinking it would have to run out eventually, but it makes a lot more sense that it needs to be shut off at the source. In my defense, basic handyman skills arenotwhat flashed before my eyes in my not-quite-dying moments.

My big bear of a guardian angel disappears into the basement, and less than a minute later, the water stops. I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders sagging, my sopping wet hair flopping into my face as I hang my head and laugh. What the fuck just happened?

Now that there’s not a constant flow of water, the rising water has the chance to spread out and soak into the floor, leaving me standing in soggy shoes on a squishy wood floor. I groan and all the adrenaline leaves me, making my knees wobble and my whole body feel exhausted. I slump down onto the wet floor and listen to the clomp of Griff’s boots heading back up the stairs.

I bury my face in my hands and start to laugh again. Body-shaking, hysterical laughter because seriously, how else am I supposed to cope with this? I know fuck all about water damage, but I know enough to realize this is going to be a fucking nightmare to fix.

The tentative brush of Griff’s hand against my shoulder startles me out of my laughing fit. I pull my hands away from myface and look up to find him towering over me, his dark nipples visible through his wet shirt, a flicker of concern in his eyes accompanying his ever-present scowl.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a low, gruff voice.

“Fucking great.” I chuckle again. “I was really hoping to come home to a flash flood in my living room. TP took off, so hopefully she’s still hiding in the bushes, otherwise I’m going to be driving around the neighborhood all night approaching strange raccoons, and now I have to include new furniture in my budget too.”

His frown deepens. “The damage will probably be covered by your homeowner’s insurance.”

“Really? Isn’t it, like, a pre-existing condition or something if the pipes were all rusted through?”

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