Josie
I groaned and threw a pillow over my head, but the banging wouldn’t go away. It was a Saturday morning, for God’s sake, who would be knocking on my door at this hour? I threw my sheets back, perplexed to see I was still wearing my clothes from the previous night—with the shoes. I kicked those off and squinted. The morning light was like razor blades across my corneas.
“Oh.” I grimaced and rubbed my temples.
Bang, bang, bang.
It felt like my caller, whoever it was, was pounding directly on my skull, not my door.
“Coming!” I yelled, followed by a moan.
Too loud.
As I walked toward the door, I gazed out my living room window.
Killian Murphey!
I ducked and scrambled over to my arm chair, my heart racing.
Killian Murphey! What was he doing here? Did I leave my purse at the bar? Wait. How did I get home?
My line of thought was interrupted by a flash of a very hot dream I had before waking. I was kissing Killian and the Irishman was even better in my dreams than in my daytime fantasies.
Oh, shit. If he knocks again, my head’s going to explode.
I moved as fast as I could, which was a feat with the pain pinballing through my cranium. I reached the door, fumbled with the locks, and threw it open. He was turned halfway around, but spun to face me, his eyes opening wide.
“Well, now. Top of the mornin’ to you, Miss Josephine.” His eyes twinkled in the murderous light of the sun. “Feeling a parcel under the weather, are ya?”
I held the thumb and pointer finger of my right hand up, an inch apart. “Maybe a touch.”
He laughed. “I think it may be a bit more than that.”
He was carrying a satchel of some sort. I glanced over at the hook I usually hung my purse on. It was there, although it was on the floor, under the hook. Wow. I must have been seriously lazy last night…but why can’t I remember that? So, he didn’t have my purse…. What else could I have left?
“You don’t know why I’m here, do you?”
Observant little devil. “Oh, no. I know,” I bluffed.
He tilted his head to one side, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. “Uh-huh. What am I here for, then?”
“Uhh….” I tapped my foot. “You’re here, because….” I stretched the words out as much as I could without drawing attention to it, trying to buy some thinking time. We talked about my birthday…I asked him some questions…he had on those sassy suspenders…. Wait. Did I…touch them?
He crossed his arms. “You haven’t the foggiest notion, do you?”
“No, I have a notion…or two….”
He waited.
I exhaled. “Okay. I’m clueless. Sorry.”
He laughed, unfolding his arms. “I didn’t think so.” He held his bag aloft. “I’m here to work on your washroom.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” I rocked from heel to toe during the awkward silence that followed. “Oh. Well, it’s this way.” I led him along the hall. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No you’re not.” We reached the room and peeked our heads in. Killian looked at me, then stepped over the threshold and whistled. “Wow. He did leave things in a state, didn’t he?” He stood with his hands on his hips then turned around slowly to take it all in.
“Yes. As you can see, he pulled the toilet and a mirror,” one of the cheap builder’s mirrors leaned against one sink, one remained attached to the wall, “removed the linoleum—”
“Good. ’Cause, if you don’t mind me saying, that’s a pain in the ass.”
I smiled. “Glad he did it then.” I swung my hand out. “But he never got around to taking the sinks or tub out.”
He put a hand on his chin, rubbing his whiskers. He hadn’t shaved yet and the stubble was out-of-control sexy. “Hmm.”
While his head was turned, I bent to look in the mirror and about passed out. My hair looked like a herd of wild stallions mated in it, and the robe wasn’t hiding the fact I still had my clothes on from last night. I tried to push some of the stray hairs into place and caught him watching me.
“I’m so embarrassed—”
“No need to be. You—”
“Yes, there is. Clearly I had too much to drink last night and—”
He grabbed my hands. “Happens to the best of us, love. Besides—” He ran his hand along a stray strand. “—I believe I like the just-tumbled-out-of-bed look.” He gazed into my eyes with a wicked smile. Heat speared through me. He was so close. It was like in my dream. He looked from one of my eyes to the other. “You…really don’t remember last night?”
I shook my head, unable to speak.
“Any of it?”
I looked away.
“You’ve got yourself a bad case of the fear, then.”
“The fear?”
“Aye. Or some would call it drinker’s remorse. Where you’re unwilling to step into the places you were the night before, for fear you did something embarrassing there.”
Had I done something I would regret, wouldn’t I remember it? I hung my head. This was humiliating. But he curled a finger under my chin and lifted it. “No bother, Josie.” For a moment, he seemed lost in thought. Then he dropped his hand, took a step back, and cleared his throat. He surveyed the bathroom again. “Bloody shame, though,” he mumbled under his breath.
What did he mean by that? Absentmindedly, I rubbed at my temples.
“Got a bad dose, huh?” He stepped over to the sink. “You need to have a big glass—” He turned the tap, but nothing came out. “He didn’t even have the decency to leave you the water?” He bent to reach under the sink and turn it back on.
Actually, I shut off the water and started doing some of the work myself when he didn’t show all week, but I didn’t have the right tools and had to stop. I didn’t want Killian to know that, though, so I didn’t comment. Sam told me a girl should act unfamiliar with these kinds of things to make a man feel more in control and valiant and all that. He filled the glass and handed it to me.
“Well…” I suddenly was awkward around him. “I don’t want to seem like I’m looking over your shoulder, so I’ll just—”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said quickly. “I’d enjoy the company.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I studied him, judging the validity of that statement. “Well, I’ll go change then.” I made a move toward the door. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
I hurriedly ran a brush through my hair, and, since all my bar clothes were dirty, it was either a suit, or oversized T-shirt and jeans. I sighed. Not quite the sex pistol Sam insisted I look like. I didn’t want to keep him waiting, though.
When I walked in, he was lying on his back with his head in the cabinet under the sink. So all I could see was a flash of his green T-shirt and his darkly dyed jeans. My pulsed spiked. He filled out his jeans nicely. I rolled my eyes at myself. My hormones were getting the best of me. Shimmying out a bit, he gestured to the countertop. “Mind handing me that gizmo there?”
I looked over. The bag he had was unrolled and tools were tucked in a number of pouches. A crescent wrench was already out, lying on top. “You mean this crescent wrench?”
“The very same.” I handed it to him. “Thank you.” He started to go back under, but stopped and frowned at me. “You know more about this than you’re lettin’ on.”
I scrunched my shoulders. “I didn’t want you to think I was….”
Shit. What do I say now? I didn’t want you to see me as anything other than an attractive, seductive woman because I have the hots for you?
“What?” he asked. “Capable? Cat’s out of the bag on that one, Miss Josie.” He stuck his head back under. “I already know you are a highly independent woman.”
Was that good or bad?
“Besides,” he peeked out again “you don’t have to pretend you’re anything you’re not with me.”
Score one for Josie, Sam.
It touched me and almost made me choke up. “I think that’s the sweetest thing anybody’s ever said to me.”
“Oh, now.” He laughed, waving it off.
“No. I mean it. You are a real sweetheart.”
“Sure. Sure,” he joked. “That’s what they all say.”
Although he said it in jest, the reminder cut me. That’s what they all say. All the women he no doubt bedded.
He’s only helping me to be nice. I need to not build it in my mind to be anything else.
His movements stopped. “You’re quiet, Joz. Did I say something wrong?”
I shook myself. “No. No.” It didn’t feel right watching him while I sat around doing nothing. I climbed onto the counter, grabbing my screwdriver, which I’d left there at some point.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to get these light fixtures down.” I searched around for a conversation starter. “So, where did you learn how to do all this? And if you say your Uncle Seamus taught you….”
He laughed. “Not this time. I actually learned it from the telly.” He continued to bang around under the sink. “How ’bout you? Who taught you what you know about tools and such?”
I shrugged. “It was the only way I could get some time alone with my dad. I’d be his little assistant when he did household chores.” A smile tugged at my lips. “Those were some of my favorite times.” I looked around my wrecked bathroom. “I should have just done the repairs myself, but…with this new job and all, I wasn’t sure if I’d have the time.”
He slid out, bending his knees and looking over his shoulder at me. I nodded in the direction of the tub. “Can you wait to rip the tub out until the last possible minute? I kind of feel the same way about my tub that Jackson Browne feels about his piano in that song. You know, the one where he tells the roadies to wait until everything else is on the truck before they get his piano?”
He winked at me. “Of course.” He moved to the other sink, disconnecting that drainpipe, too.
“What would be the last thing to go on the truck for you, Killian? What’s your most prized possession?”
He stopped for a moment. “Hmm. That’s an interesting question.” He began to work again. “Probably my da’s pocket watch.”
“Oh. The one you had the other day? It’s beautiful.”
“Ach. It’s old and scratched all to heck, but…it was my da’s, so….” He changed the subject. “I’m a pretty simple man, really. Don’t have much in the way of possessions. The only things I’d need is me watch, and a pair of runners. And a telly.”
I’d taken the screws out of the light fixture, but it was stuck to the wall by the paint. I stepped over the sink to get a wider stance with which to pull, but in so doing, I accidentally turned on the water with my foot.
Killian sputtered.
“Shit!” I quickly toed it off again. “I’m so sorry. Did I get you bad?”
He came out from under the sink, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. The sight of his bare stomach arrested me. He was built way more than his clothing let on. The top of his shirt was sopping wet, as was his wavy hair. I bent to hop off.
“Hold on there.” He stood, and offered me his hand, which was wet. “I don’t want you fallin’.”
When I got to the floor, I could see, even though the faucet was open for only seconds, it made a mess. I laughed as he pushed back his wet hair and tried to wring his shirt out in the tub. “Let me get you a towel.” I took two from the shelf and when I turned around, he had his shirt off. I handed him a towel while trying not to stare. Wide chest, broad shoulders, well-defined arms.
It’s too damned much.
“Thanks.” He rubbed the towel over his chest and I remembered to close my mouth.
I looked at his shirt. “Do you want me to throw that in the dryer?”
“No need.” He looped it over the shower rod, which was still up, despite the fact no shower curtain hung from it. “It’ll dry by the time I’m done.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “You look weak as a kitten. Why don’t you let me do my work, and I’ll try to be quiet while you lay down for a bit?”
“You know, I might just do that. Then maybe I’ll be rid of this headache….”
“Good idea.” He moved his hand to my bicep. “Will I see you tonight?”
I hadn’t planned on it. “You’re working?”
“Yes. In fact, I have to leave by two to go home and take a shower. But I can come back tomorrow.”
“No hurry. You’re doing me a favor.”
“So, do me one in return. Come by tonight and keep me entertained.”
I smiled. “Okay. You’ve got a deal.” His hair looked even sexier slicked back. “Again, I’m sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I needed a shower.”
I laughed. “Well, not one like that. A tad startling, don’t you think?”
He held up his fingers as I had earlier. “Now. You.” He took my shoulders, spun me around, and marched me out the door. “Get some sleep.”
Part of me wondered if he was getting rid of me to keep from taking more unexpected “showers.” Part of me was so grateful to hit the bed I didn’t even care why he’d done it.
When I woke, the light was murky, kept out by my darkening shades. I listened. It was quiet. I looked at the clock and bolted upright. Two o’clock! I scrambled out of bed and practically ran to the bathroom. My heart dropped when I realized he was gone, but rose again when I spied a little white box on the counter with a note.
FOR YOU. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
I suppressed a squeal and tore into the box. Inside was the cutest miniature birthday cake with “Happy birthday, Josephine,” on it. I put a hand over my heart.
I’d really never had much of a crush on someone before, didn’t have time for boys. It figured the first guy I’d fall for would be handsome, charming, caring, and completely out of my league.
I shouldn’t even go to Paddy’s tonight. Why torture myself?
But I’d promised. And—God help me—I wanted to see him. With a sigh, I bent over to turn the tap on and fill the tub. For weeks I’d taken baths, instead of showers. With the curtains gone, my only choice was to submerge my hair to shampoo it. I needed to wash the night before off me if I was going to see Killian.