Page 16 of Delicate Escape

“Jeez, watch it. You’re going to take off my finger if you’re not careful.”

But he was already gnawing on the leaves, clearly in heaven. I grinned as I crossed to the kittens’ pen to double-check everything. At six weeks, they wouldn’t be able to climb the pen’s walls, but it likely wouldn’t be long before that changed. Kittens were more than a little resourceful.

Moose let out a baleful meow.

I straightened and sent him a pointed look. “The kittens won’t steal your catnip, so chill.”

Glancing at the pen again, I frowned. I needed a little more litter in the litter box. I moved toward the small half bath off the living room that also served as my kitten storage area. Opening the cabinet beneath the sink, I tugged the litter free and froze.

Dread settled low in my gut as I took in the water under the sink. I quickly pulled everything out, only to find more water. Notpools of it, but like everything had been doused in it over time. My hand skimmed over the pipe as I studied it. I didn’t see a leak, but that didn’t mean one wasn’t there.

I stood, looked around, and caught a slight shimmer on the linoleum floor next to the sink. I crouched low. That was damp, too.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I needed to turn off the water to the house. I probably needed to call a plumber. Just the thought of someone being in my house—anyone at all, but especially a stranger—had pressure building in my chest. My rib cage tightened around my lungs, making it hard to take a full breath.

“One thing at a time,” I whispered.

Maybe I could figure it out myself. There had to be a library book on finding a leak. I might be able to get there before it closed.

But first, I had to shut off the water to the house so it didn’t get worse. That was the last thing I needed.

Striding out of the bathroom, I rounded the corner to the front door. The guest bath was along an exterior wall, at least, so I hoped the damage was minimal. I scanned my front yard, looking for anything that would denote some sort of shutoff.

I’d never owned a home until this one. My life in LA had consisted of one apartment after another. Even growing up, I’d never had a typical home with a yard. It wasn’t something my parents could afford.

Finally, my eyes locked on a small cover in the ground. I hurried toward it and pulled it up, then reached for the rusted shutoff valve that looked older than the house itself—if that were possible.

I tried to twist it, but the thing didn’t want to move. Pressure built behind my eyes. “Come on,” I muttered, putting more force behind my movements. With a grunted oath, it finally shifted. But not in a good way.

One moment, I was crouched over the opening. The next, water was shooting into my face. It soaked me in seconds, taking out my hair, my tank, and everything else in its path.

I stumbled back, panic searing me. Then I realized the shutoff valve was still in my hand. It had come clean off.

Crouching low, I tried to come at it from an angle so as not to get doused again, but I was still getting soaked as the pipe screamed in protest.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I didn’t have the first clue what to do. How to stop it. How to fix it. Nothing.

A door slammed, making me jerk to my feet and whirl around.

Shep stood there, a look of pure confusion and amusement on his face. “What the hell happened to you?”

6

SHEP

The absolutely horrifiedlook on Thea’s face had me fighting a laugh. She was soaked from head to toe, as if she’d decided to take a dip in all her clothes. Her mahogany hair was in complete disarray like some small animal had burrowed in and made a nest.

Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “The water shutoff,” she said, gesturing at the geyser behind her.

Hell.

I’d been so taken in by the woman that I hadn’t even noticed the geyser behind her. I strode across the front yard that Thea had clearly put a lot of work into. She definitely had an eye for landscaping. The blend of flowers and native plants fit perfectly with their surroundings.

I crouched low, coming at the shutoff from the side so I wouldn’t get drenched. Thea bent at my side, offering me a rusted piece of metal. “It broke off.”

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