Page 71 of Second First Kiss

Beer demolished and hot water drained, he stepped out into the foggy room and dried himself off. He threw on a pair of ratty jeans, an old university sweatshirt, and work boots. He had plans tonight. Unfortunately, it wasn’t with a smart-assed woman who drove him crazy.

Nope, instead of participating in an all-night sex-a-thon, he was going to fix the pipes under the kitchen sink so that the faucet actually shot out hot and cold water when their respective knobs were turned. And he was going to get rid of the incessant dripping that kept him up at night.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

On the way back from shutting off the water supply to the house, he grabbed his toolbox from the garage and made his way to the kitchen where he had a staredown with the sink.

“You and I are going to hash this out. Once and for all,” he said, flipping the wrench in his hand like it was a revolver and he was Billy the Kid.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He set the toolbox on the counter and, with the wrench in hand, knelt in front of the sink.

“If that was all it took to get you on your knees, you’d have half the town’s population calling you about leaky faucets,” a smoky and incredibly seductive voice came through his open kitchen window.

He looked up and saw trouble dressed in form-fitting black jeans—and what a form—a fuzzy teal sweater that couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay on her shoulder or not, and a peek of something lacy black beneath. In her hand was a giant take-out bag from Bigfoot’s.

“You throwing a party?” he asked. “That bag is big enough to feed a family of four.”

“Or one hungry federal agent.”

His face melted into a buttery smile. “You cook me dinner, Kitten?”

“I packed the bags at Bigfoot’s after my shift. That’s about all you get from me in terms of a home-cooked meal. Take it or leave it.”

The way she said it was like she was testing him. As if somehow that made her unworthy of a relationship.

“Then I’ll take it.”

With a shrug she strutted her fine ass around the front of the house and let herself in the door. By the time she made it to the kitchen her sweater had decided it didn’t like to be confined to her shoulder and was halfway down her arm. Showing more than enough black lace to drive a man crazy.

She walked over and hopped up on the counter next to his toolbox, then looked at the towel on the floor in front of the open cabinet and the wrench in his hand. “Having a little problems with your pipe, Ranger?”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with my pipe the other night.”

She shrugged and her shirt fell a little lower. She didn’t notice but his dick did. “Maybe I was faking it.”

“Oh, you weren’t faking it. You could barely walk after. Plus, you were moaning like you’d just run the Iron Man.”

“Are you sure you want to bait the person who’s bringing you dinner?” she asked, and he held his hand up in surrender. “And don’t get used to this. This is a onetime thing as a thanks for the truck, the car, and the job.”

He walked over and slid right between her legs. She spread for him to make room. He put his hands on her thighs. “Did you get it?”

She ran her palms up his biceps. “Of course, and thank you. But you already knew that.”

He did know. He’d tracked her every movement without looking like a creeper and gave her the space to see what she wanted to do next with regard to them. He did not want her to think that his favors came with expectations. “You don’t have to thank me, you got the job on your own,” Nolan said.

“Maybe, but I know that you brought my résumé to Eli.”

“All I did was deliver it, I didn’t get involved. Like I promised.”

She studied him. “Wow, I believe you. That must have been hard. Putting your cape away for ten minutes.”

“Painful.”

“Well, thank you. It’s nice to know I got it on my own. I mean, Eli hired me even though he doesn’t like me.”

Nolan was taken aback. “What makes you think Eli doesn’t like you?”

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