Page 29 of Making New Plans

A drop of vulnerability trickled through. “Really?” I whispered.

His gaze roamed over my face like soft, caressing fingers. Then he gave a tight nod. Turning away, he unzipped his hoodie, tossed it on the stairs, and waded into the water.

I thanked what little luck I had left that he’d turned around first because my mouth dropped open like a nutcracker on Christmas. Why were back muscles sexy? I didn’t know, but I wanted to paint a portrait of them for my bedroom wall.

Hunter grunted and hissed at the cold water. “Move, Higgins! This isn’t pleasant!”

“Sorry!” I squeaked and raced up the stairs.

I swiped the headlamp from an emergency supplies drawer under my desk and ran back to Hunter. He’d already snatched a few of the closest things within reach, some stacks of toilet paper and napkins. He took the headlamp, secured it, and splashed right back in.

Henrietta, a forty-year-old redhead from a long line of plumbers and redheads, answered my call on the fifth ring.

“Flooding?” she asked as a way of greeting.

“Yep. About a foot of water in the basement of the lodge.” Henrietta preferred fast facts with no frills.

“Figured someone would need my help,” she grunted. “Be there in fifteen.”

The next few hours passed in a blur of water vacuuming, answering guest questions, and sucking down enough caffeine for an army. Hunter was surprisingly helpful, storing rescued inventory in various closets and even his room. When George and Mable arrived on the scene, he helped them with morning prep. He seemed more comfortable in the kitchen than behind the front desk answering the phone or talking to guests. But baby steps.

Henrietta handed me the damage report and a list of next steps before she left around dawn. Feeling like I was also underwater, I tossed her notes on my desk. I’d look at them later. Right now, I needed some air.

The sun was peeking around the dark storm clouds when I stepped outside and inhaled the cold, freshly washed air.

The doors whooshed again behind me, and a warm body stepped up next to me.

Hunter had changed at some point into a tee shirt and jeans with his hoodie. Probably after he’d gotten soaked wading around the basement.

I glanced at him. “How did you find out the basement was flooded in the first place?”

He looked down at his shoes, his cheeks reddening. “Well, you’d asked me to do a load of guest laundry earlier, and I’d forgotten it in the dryer and didn’t realize it until I was getting ready for bed.”

“Did you not have your sheets?”

“No. Um, my pillowcase.”

“Oh, you could’ve grabbed any of them.”

“I, uh, brought my own, and I didn’t want anyone else to end up with it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You brought your own pillowcase? Is it monogrammed or something? World’s Best Basement Savior?”

He snorted, shooting me a wry look. “Funny. But no. I just have a thing about using anyone else’s pillowcase.”

“But they’re clean.”

“That’s what my roommate at boarding school told me as well.”

Understanding dawned on me. “Oh, got pranked, did you?”

His eyebrows lowered over his eyes. “He and a few of his friends wiped their junk all over my pillow, and I didn’t realize it for days until they started teasing me about it.”

“That’s awful!” I shuddered. “I would’ve burnt that thing. What did you do?”

He took a long time to answer, staring off into the dawn. “I told the dean that he and his friends were hiding porn in their rooms, which was an expulsion offense at that particular school. The next day, they were gone.”

When I didn’t say anything, he looked back at me, something deep and probing in his gaze. “I’m not proud of that. But I also hated having almost no power over how I was treated back then. So, I used the only weapon I had.”

---