Paige’s ass hit the bottom of the drainpipe. Hard. She knew it would leave a bruise on her tailbone, but neither that nor the considerable bruise to her ego mattered at the moment. Because even though Mr. Hot-As-Crap had no doubt seen her less-than-graceful tumble into the vat of disgust, all she cared about at the moment was rescuing the two remaining pups.
Once she had them, she somehow managed to shimmy her way back through the bars with a pup in each hand, although she knew for certain her ass wasn’t the only thing that would be black and blue come morning. Her boobs were going to look pretty rough from the smooshing they’d received. And she’d thought her first mammogram was bad! That nurse at the hospital with her cold hands and her X-ray vise had nothing on a drainpipe jail break.
But the important thing was that the mother and all four pups were safe.
Back at the Inn, Lucas gathered as many towels as he could find.
“Let’s bring them into the living room, and I’ll start a fire.”
“Shouldn’t we stay out here on the porch?” She was a mess. Dripping wet and covered with mud. At least she was telling herself it was mud. Judging by the smell, it was probably a whole lot more than that. Surely he didn’t want her and the five dogs in his living room.
Apparently he did.
“That old potbelly won’t give off enough heat.” He gathered the puppies into his arms in one scoop and led Paige and the momma stray through the house. Once the canine family was all settled in front of the hearth, he began piling logs onto an iron grate.
“That was a crazy thing to do,” he said.
It was. But in the moment Paige hadn’t been thinking logically. All she knew was that she needed to get to those dogs. “They looked so helpless.” Her gaze shifted to the momma, who was now nursing her pups. “And she was so sad.” A lump formed in the back of Paige’s throat. What was it about this island? First, she almost cried in front of Lucas, and now she was about to turn into a puddle over a canine reunion. At the rate things were going, she’d be a snotty mess when holiday commercials rolled around again.
Lucas lit a match and held it to the kindling he’d arranged under the logs. Once it caught, he turned to Paige. “You’re shaking.” He stood and started for the stairs. “Let me run and grab some more blankets.”
“Actually, do you mind if I take that shower now?” she asked. Her teeth actually chattered as she spoke.
“Of course.” Then after a flash of lightning he added, “But isn’t there something about not showering during a storm?”
She laughed, but the stuttering sound was more shiver than joy. “I’ll take my chances. It’s either that or death from my own smell. Besides, it’s a lot less dangerous than being in that pipe.”
“True.” He smiled, and damn if he didn’t look perfect. Certainly not like a man who’d just participated in a daring animal rescue. Even his hair had that sexy, rumpled, wet look some guys tried to get by using products they would later deny they ever bought. Sure, his coat and jeans were soaked, but at least they were clean. Then again, he hadn’t gone for a swim in sludge. “There’s a laundry chute in the bathroom. Toss the dirty stuff down, and we can throw it in the washer after dinner.”
Paige couldn’t imagine a detergent that was strong enough to clean her clothes. Not to mention the fact that her sweater was dry-clean only. She sniffed her shoulder and winced. “Might just throw them away.” Or burn them. “But thanks.”
When she walked into the bathroom, the sight of her own reflection nearly made her scream. Unlike her host, Paige’s “wet look” was far from that of a model. She pried a lock of hair from her temple. More like plaster. If plaster was made from mud.
She dumped her clothes down the chute and turned on the tap. As soon as the water was warm, she stepped into the claw-foot tub and pulled the curtain around the circular rod. A soak would have felt like heaven to her aching muscles, but she didn’t want to be away from the pups that long. So for now a shower would have to suffice. It took two rounds of shampoo to get her hair clean—marking the first time in her life she actually followed the bottle’s directions to lather, rinse, repeat—and when she was finally satisfied that the water flowing to the drain was actually clear, she turned off the tap. As she did, the room went dark.
What the…
Paige slid the shower curtain open and groped along the wall in search of a towel, but when she found the hook, it was empty. There should be some in the wardrobe in the bedroom. A lot of good it did her to remember that now. She tried to picture the layout of the room. She was certain she’d seen at least a hand towel on a small rack next to the pedestal sink. She stepped out of the tub and slid her hand along the wall. Sink, faucet. She dropped to her knees…trash can…toilet…and then finally…bingo! Towel rack. She ran her hands along each shelf. Empty.
She thought about trying to take the shower curtain off the hooks, but that would take forever in the dark, and she was already freezing. Again.
There was only one choice: make a run for it. Paige opened the door and peeked out into the hall. Everything was dark except for the intermittent flashes of lightning illuminating the windows on the stairs. If she timed it just right, she would have enough light to make it to the door.
A bolt of lightning zigzagged through the sky. Paige stepped out into the hallway, and sure enough, the lightning did allow her to see. It was more what she saw that was the problem. Standing in front of her was Lucas Croft. Holding a flashlight. With the beam of light pointed directly at her chest.
Shit.
For a moment, neither of them said a word. Paige was far too shocked to form a coherent thought, let alone move. Lucas just stood there, his jaw slack, his eyes wide, and—her gaze dropped lower—his dick hard.
Holy hell.
He blinked, and the trance was broken. “Oh, shit. Sorry,” he blurted out.
Paige tried to cover herself, one hand low and one hand high, although a lot of good one hand did on her boobs. “What are you doing up here?”
Lucas spun around. “Bringing you a flashlight.” He waved the device in the air as proof. “What are you doing walking down the hall naked?”
She scurried toward her bedroom. “There weren’t any towels in the bathroom.” She closed the door behind her, not bothering to wait for his reply. A bolt of lightning lit the room, allowing her to see the bed. Perfect, she thought, as she dove under the covers. First time a man has seen her naked in what, three years? And then it only happened by accident. A slow smile curved her lips. Then again, from the looks of what was going on behind that button fly, Lucas Croft definitely liked what he saw.
* * *
Their awkward moment wasn’t mentioned when she came downstairs. Lucas had left the flashlight outside her bedroom door. While she was appreciative, since without it she would probably have fallen and broken at least one body part, she didn’t dare thank him, as doing so would acknowledge that he’d been upstairs at all, and that was one degree of conversation too close to that-which-shall-not-be-discussed.
He’d been busy while she was in the shower, serving the momma stray not only a bowl of water, but judging by the nearly licked-clean plate, a helping of leftover lasagna as well. He’d changed clothes, too, looking devastatingly handsome in a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved, hunter-green T-shirt that made his hazel eyes look the same color. Paige had chosen a pair of supersoft gray drawstring pants and a white T-shirt. She knew her white lace bra was visible through the thin fabric—a subtle reminder of what he’d had a not-so-subtle glimpse of in the hallway—but it served him right. He’d left that beam of light shining on her boobs a lot longer than necessary. Then again, maybe he was in shock. She smiled. Or maybe her boobs had secret powers. Stun-gun ta-tas. Her lame joke almost had her laughing out loud. Maybe she was the one who was in shock.
“What’s so funny?” Lucas asked. He reached for the iron poker and jabbed at a few embers. The fire he’d started before “the incident” was nearing bonfire status, yet he still kept tending to it. Paige assumed it was his way of ignoring the elephant in the room.
“Just thinking about that tumble I took in the pipe,” she said. “Not my finest moment. Then again, my mom did always tease that she should have named me Grace.” A little self-deprecation was way better than admitting the truth: that she was imagining her breasts would qualify her to join the Avengers. Right, time to change the subject before her overactive, sex-deprived imagination started conjuring images of her alongside Thor that had nothing to do with saving the world.
She came to sit on the floor next to the litter of pups. They’d all nursed until their little bellies were full, then fallen asleep right where they were. Paige could relate. Not that she would ever eat in bed—crumbs and sheets were a horrible combination, second only to sand on sheets—but she could certainly see the advantage to having her food ready and waiting the moment she woke up. “How old do you suppose they are?”
Lucas looked over his shoulder at them. “Not sure.” He stoked the logs one more time, then came to sit on the floor across from Paige. “They’re small, but their eyes are open. So two, maybe three weeks?” He leaned back against the sofa. “They’re cute though. In a naked-mole-rat kind of way.”
Paige’s mouth dropped open. “They do not look like naked mole rats.”
Lucas raised a brow.
“Okay, maybe a little.” She laughed. “But just at first. Now that their fur is dry…” She reached for one of the pups who had wriggled way from its mother. “They look adorable.” She picked up the tiny brown puppy and nuzzled him against her chest. “Yes, don’t you?” she asked the small dog and, to her absolute horror, realized she’d spoken to the animal in baby talk. Paige never spoke baby talk. Granted, she had zero experience around actual babies, but she hadn’t spoken that way to her cat when he was a kitten. Then again, it’s somewhat hard to treat a cat named Mr. Rochester like a baby, no matter what his age or size.
Fortunately, Lucas didn’t seem to notice. That or he didn’t care. Either way, Paige needed to change the subject. Her stomach growled, reminding her of the uneaten omelet and offering her the perfect means to switch topics. “Now that the pups are all fed…” She put the puppy back next to his mother and picked at a small piece of fuzz on one of the blankets. “I was thinking maybe we could eat lunch in here.” She paused to gauge his reaction but saw nothing. “Or dinner, whatever meal is next.” She shrugged. “But you know, together.”
Lucas looked up to meet her gaze, which she quickly shifted back to the dogs. Dogs were safe. No complications. No mysterious women from their past and no chance of a broken heart. “To keep an eye on the puppies,” she quickly added. But truth be told, hot-as-hell innkeeper aside, Paige didn’t think she could stand to eat another meal alone. If she had to spend one more night listening to the grandfather clock tick off each passing minute, she was going to lose her mind.
“I have a confession to make.”
This was it. He was going to tell her that although they were living under the same roof and had just battled the elements to save a canine family, he had absolutely no interest in dining with a guest. Nice breasts or not. Paige swallowed. “What’s that?”
He took a deep breath. “I know the website talks about gourmet meals, but omelets and lasagna are sort of the limit to my culinary skills.”
She couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up inside her. Of all the false advertising on the inn’s website, that’s what he was worried about?
“To be fair, you didn’t indicate vegetarian on the reservation.”
“And if I had?”
Now he laughed with her. “Touché.”
“At this point, I would settle for mac and cheese.” Paige hadn’t eaten the powdery concoction since she was a girl, but the adrenaline shot of their adventure, not to mention the hallway incident, had worn off. If she didn’t eat something soon, she thought she might actually faint. And with her luck, it wouldn’t be a graceful swoon into her host’s arms. No, she would undoubtedly fall ass over tits and end up sprawled all over the floor.
“Now that I can handle. One problem though.” He glanced around the room lit only by flames. “No power.”
“Oh yeah.” Smooth one, Parker.
“I bought some meatless burgers,” he said, glancing up at the rain-soaked window. “I could try firing up the grill.”
“Absolutely not. Bad enough to have been out in that mess for these little guys. No way you’re going out to cook.”
Lucas pushed to his feet. “Let me see what I can find.”
He went to the kitchen and, after opening what sounded like every one of the cabinets, returned with a wooden tray. Whatever was on it was covered by a dish towel.
“Do you know what the best part of being an adult is?” There was an unmistakable gleam in his eye.
“What?” She had to admit, her curiosity was piqued.
He sat down next to her and pulled the towel away with an exaggerated flourish. “You can eat dessert for dinner.”
On the tray in front of her were chocolate bars, graham crackers, and a bag of marshmallows.
“S’mores?”
“Yep. I also have some cheese and an apple. But what fun would that be?”
His enthusiasm was contagious and Paige found herself playing along. “So an indoor camp-out?”
“Exactly.”
She half expected his next idea to be building a pillow fort out of the couch cushions.
“I figured you’d want to keep an eye on these guys, so I thought we could get some blankets and pillows and just make a night of it.”
Not quite a pillow fort, but close enough.
“Unless you think it’s a bad idea,” he quickly added. “But you might get cold upstairs without—”
“No, no,” she interrupted. “I think camping in sounds great.” She knew the grin on her face was far from playing it cool, but she didn’t care. In front of her were a hot guy, puppies, and chocolate. Life didn’t get much better than that.
They took turns roasting marshmallows on a straightened wire hanger Lucas dug out of the front closet. Paige couldn’t remember the last time she made s’mores. Girl Scouts, maybe? When they were done, she was sure she’d exceeded her sugar intake for the next month if not two. “Those were…”
“Fattening? I know. But sometimes you’ve got to live a little.”
“I was going to say delicious. And I couldn’t agree more.”
Lucas leaned closer, and his gaze dropped to her mouth, and all at once her insides felt as gooey as the marshmallows. “You’ve got…”
“Yes?” The word was more breath than sound.
He reached up, cupping her cheek with his hand while his thumb stroked her bottom lip “…a bit of chocolate.”
“Oh.” Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Don’t worry.” He held up his now chocolate-streaked thumb as proof. “I got it.”
“Thanks.” Usually her radar was a lot more accurate than that. Although to be fair, this guy was a hard one to read. One minute he’s telling someone on the phone what a pain in the ass she is, and the next he’s flirting with her. Then he’s got a raging boner for her, then he’s acting like they are in grade school. And not the age where you play spin the bottle either. More the age where you’re all buddies and actually sleep at a sleepover.
“I can keep an eye on them if you have anything you need to do.”
Whoa, talk about a change in direction. Paige wasn’t sure if Lucas was suddenly trying to get rid of her or just double-checking that she really wanted to be there. Either way, she decided to go with honest and direct. “As it just so happens, my calendar is pretty clear,” she said. And it was. She hadn’t had so much as a text, let alone a call. That either meant the office had burned to the ground and Sammy was afraid to tell her or he was handling everything just fine. Something told her it was the latter. She’d bet her business on it. And in a way, she had. “Plus with the power and internet out…”
“Ah, good point.” An awkward beat passed before he asked, “Is there anything you’d like to do?”
Nothing came to mind. “It’s your house. What would you usually do about now?”
He shrugged. “Watch TV. Play video games.”
She rolled her eyes. “What is it with men and video games?”
He raised a brow. “That was rather sexist.” While she knew he was teasing, he was also correct.
“Touché,” she said, echoing his earlier response.
“So you’re telling me you’ve never played Xbox or PS4?”
“Let’s just say eye-hand coordination isn’t my strong suit.” She’d failed at most sports and sucked at playing piano. “But I am pretty good at Wii, if you’ve got one of those.” Who was she kidding, she was pro level when it came to bowling. Pro at electronic bowling. Was there a more pathetic declaration ever made? Thank God she hadn’t said that out loud.
He smiled. “Afraid not.”
Right, because that was popular like what, ten years ago? Smooth, Parker. Might as well have asked him if he had a Nintendo 64. Or even better, Atari. “Cards?”
“I don’t think I have a full deck.”
Now she was the one who raised a brow. “You do realize you left yourself wide open for a serious burn.”
“Serious burn? Are we back in high school?”
“No, because then we would be playing Wii.”
He laughed. It was a deep, warm sound, and all at once Paige knew she’d do just about anything to hear it again.
“It’s just as well you don’t have a deck.”
“Why, are you a sore loser?”
Her face flushed. “And an even worse winner.” Maybe it was years of playing cards with her grandmother and her older brother, but she and Marty had taken gloating to a new level.
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“I may or may not have a fairly obnoxious celebration dance.”
“Spared by the missing jack of diamonds,” he teased. A moment of silence passed between them, and once again, Paige thought Lucas might kiss her. It was a perfect moment—the fireplace bathing them in a warm glow, the rain tapping a hypnotic rhythm against the windows. Lucas leaned closer, but when his lips parted, all he did was speak. “We could just talk?”
“Talk?” Was this guy for real? Since when did a man suggest talking as a way to spend an evening? And what the hell was wrong with her radar? Had it been so long since a man made a move on her that she had forgotten how to read the signs?
Lucas nodded. “Seems like we’ve been doing that just fine for the past ten minutes. Maybe we could try to keep the streak going.”
“Like tossing a ball back and forth as many times as we can without dropping it?”
“As long as your competitive nature doesn’t apply to conversation as well.”
“Do I strike you as the type who would make everything a competition?” She was, but how could he have already figured that out about her? So far they’d mostly spoken about food, dogs, and rain.
“Well, the ball analogy was very Monica Geller.”
Sweet Jesus. The man had abs to die for, didn’t mind spending the evening talking, and he got Friends references? Maybe the storm had taken her through some wormhole into another dimension. This guy was too good to be true. Unless the whole “let’s talk” thing was just a ruse for getting her naked. Not that she thought that was a terrible idea; it would just be a sneaky way of going about it.
Yeah right, she thought. He already had you naked today, and now here you are “just talking.”
She leaned back against the front of the couch so they were sitting side by side. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I don’t know, whatever.” Barely a beat passed before he had an idea. “Why don’t you tell me what it is you do in Chicago.”
Paige stiffened. Why was it that everyone assumed a single woman’s life was lacking in some way? “I have a very full life, as a matter of fact. I have friends,” who she never spent time with, “and hobbies,” although for the life of her she couldn’t really think of one, but if pressed she could find a way to pass a few hours. “And I have Mr. Rochester.”
“Is that your boyfriend?”
“My boyfriend? Who I call Mr. Rochester?” She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.
He shrugged. “After all that Fifty Shades stuff, I don’t presume to know what people do in their private lives.”
“Mr. Rochester is my cat.” She winced. “Okay, maybe not the best example of having a full life.” And certainly boring compared to the images his reference conjured. “He’s a four-year-old tabby.”
“That’s great and all.” His smile softened. “But what I meant was what do you do for a living?”
“Oh.” She felt a bit foolish but also relieved because that was a question she was more than happy to answer. “I’m a certified professional organizer.” She said the words with pride, but they went over like the proverbial lead balloon.
He frowned. “That’s a real profession?”
She sat up a little taller. “It most certainly is.”
Lucas considered that for a moment, then asked, “Why do people hire you?”
“Because I’m good at what I do.” She wasn’t being cocky—okay, maybe a little—but she had the profits to back it up.
He smiled. “Obviously, given your ability to pay the rates here.”
“I’ll admit, it was a bit steep, but the woman I messaged led me to believe the place was in very high demand.” She glanced over her shoulder at the empty parlor.
“Yeah, about that…” He shifted in his seat. “That was my sister. Her heart was in the right place, but her head? Not so much. She’s also a bit of a con artist apparently.”
“I don’t know about that, but she did”—Paige searched for the right word—“embellish a bit.”
Lucas snorted. “She embellished a lot.” There was an awkward silence before he added, “I’m sorry she tricked you into thinking this place was open for business, let alone in high demand.” He hesitated, then said, “If you want, I can issue you a full refund.”
“No, that won’t be necessary.” The place wasn’t exactly as advertised, but in some ways, it was exactly what she needed. “I’ve enjoyed my time here.” She grinned. “You should consider adding animal rescue adventures to the website offerings.”
“Lightning and storm waste available for an extra charge, of course.”
“Of course.”
They smiled at each other, and then a beat passed. And then another. Until they were just two people sitting in front of a romantic fire, close enough to…
“Does your sister live on the island too?” Paige asked. Gah! Why the hell did she ask that? It was like she had some sort of disease that required her to fill every moment with conversation.
“Yeah, she runs a bookstore in the old fire station.” He’d no sooner offered the tidbit of information than he abruptly changed the subject.
“Back to your…professional organization,” he said. “No offense to your career and all, but why don’t people just clean out their own mess?”
Paige looked around the room. Piles of books, old magazines, empty Amazon boxes. Had the guy ever heard of recycling? There were a bunch of free weights in one corner, a stack of electronic equipment that at some point had probably been a very nice surround-sound system, and six or seven Rubbermaid bins. She could see that a few were filled with paperwork, but the rest were a hodgepodge of who knows what.
“Hey, I like my stuff just the way it is,” he said.
“That may very well be the case, but you are most definitely living in a ‘before.’”
“Before?”
“As in ‘before and after.’”
He stared at her nonplussed before the facade gave way to another genuine laugh. “Okay, okay, I may have a few items out of place.”
She leveled her stare.
He held his hands up, palms facing her. “Okay, more than a few. But people really hire someone to clean out their house?”
“Not just clean it out, but organize it so hopefully they can manage to keep it that way on their own.” Judging by the number of repeat customers, Paige knew that wasn’t always the case, but it was always the goal. “Basically, I get rid of clutter. Most people are far too attached to make the cuts they need to simplify their life. That’s where I come in.”
He turned so he was facing her. “How can you make decisions about what other people should throw away?”
“I start with the keeps,” she said. “That’s how the first wave of sorting begins. I bring them into a room and I say, ‘Your house is on fire and you can only keep as much as you can carry in one armload. What will you take?’”
“And that works?”
“It’s how we start. But most of what survives the final cut ends up being the items they took out of the room that very first day.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“Like this,” she said, sitting up straighter. “If your house was on fire and you knew all humans”—she glanced at the dogs—“and animals were safe, what would you take?”
Lucas stared into the flames. “Nothing. It can all burn to the ground.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do. It’s only stuff. None of it matters.” He turned back to look at her. There was a sadness in his eyes that took her breath away.
Her gaze shifted to the ornate cabinet next to the chair where Lucas had been sitting the night before. “What about that album you were looking at last night?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I came down for some water and—”
“And figured you’d spy on me?”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” she sputtered. “I…I just… When I saw—”
“It’s none of your business what you saw.” Lucas pushed to his feet. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, lady, coming into my home and invading my privacy like that.” A vein pulsed in his neck. “And now you’re going to try and tell me what I should do with all the crap in my life? Go to hell.”
Paige wanted to explain. To start over. To go back in time. But he was gone before she could even utter an apology, taking the front stairs two at a time as he stormed up to bed.
She slumped back against the couch. He wasn’t wrong; he was just venting about the wrong situation. Because while she hadn’t been spying on him the night before, she had invaded his privacy when she’d snooped around the bedrooms he’d specifically told her were off-limits.
She deserved everything he’d said and more.
Paige stroked the momma dog’s head. She’d come to the island to celebrate being single, and yet for some reason, the lifestyle she’d come to cherish suddenly rang hollow. “Looks like it’s just you and me.” The dog licked Paige’s palm. At least someone in the house didn’t hate her. She tossed another log on the fire, then arranged a blanket and one of the toss pillows into a makeshift bed on the floor before curling next to the litter of pups. “Goodnight, guys,” she whispered. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”