No Bunny But You (Holiday Romance Series) (3 page)

She sent him a deadpan look from the other side of
the toilet cubicle. “You weren’t that much younger. College wasn’t
that far back. Here. Hold this.”

He received the wrench, shifting his back against the
wall on the other side of the toilet. “Don’t kid yourself. It was a
lifetime ago. Hey, I thought we were going to fix the kitchen
faucet that drips.”

“We were,” she said, “until I heard your toilet
running constantly. Hasn’t this driven you nuts? You must have
heard it.”

“Of course, I’ve heard it.” And ignored it. He’d
planned to get a plumber in here when he could.

The small bathroom was littered with items Drake
couldn’t even identify. Molly had brought a bag from the hardware
store when she’d come to teach him how to fix the leaky faucet, but
that task had been abandoned and the bag now sat next to the toilet
tank lid in the corner of the tiny bathroom. A second bag from the
hardware—he was swiftly developing a dislike of the place—sat next
to the first, Molly having decided they had to replace the toilet’s
“guts”, whatever they were.

“Okay.” She moved back to examine the inside of the
toilet. “Come look at this. Right here.”

He peered in the watery tank. “Umm. Yeah.”

“See this?” She pointed to a plastic tube that
appeared to be affixed to the bottom of the water-filled tank.
“This is the overflow pipe.”

“What’s the other pipe thing that’s standing up
there?” If she was seriously not going to help him with the blog
anymore, he figured he better try to learn something.

He still couldn’t believe Molly was not only bailing
on him, she’d actually threatened to go to Mike about this. Good
grief! They’d known each other forever.

“That’s the refill tube. The inlet tube. It has the
valve attached. Here? See this? It’s got a cap that goes up and
down and there’s this little tube—the fill tube—that’s clipped to
the overflow pipe here.” Molly pointed at the first tube,
continuing to list parts.

He tried to listen and absorb it all, but despite
having written them at various times for the blog, Drake wasn’t
sure how they all worked together. “So that tube—“

“...brings the water in to fill the tank.”

“And this thing here—“ Drake reached to pull loose a
metal thing holding the small white tube.

“No!” Molly yelled just as he took the piece from the
pipe to get a better look at it.

Water suddenly jetted from the small tube now free in
his hand, hitting Molly in the chest and bouncing up into her
face.

Jerking back, Drake grabbed at the tube, which sprang
out of his hand as if it had a life of its own.

“Yeooww!!” Molly yelped as water erupted, spraying
from the little hose, hitting the walls, the toilet and them
both.

Drake grasped at it—the tube flipping around as if it
were suddenly possessed by the devil—and he finally managed to
shoved the thing back in the tube where it had been clipped,
holding it there while he glanced over at Molly.

On the other side of the toilet, she leaned back
against the cubicle wall, drenched. Her once-crisp shirt that had
been perkily tied at her waist, now dripping, the fabric hugging
her curves in clinging detail.

She mopped the drops from her face and speared her
fingers through her short white blonde hair to push it back off her
face. “This is why it’s called the
fill
tube.”

Struggling to keep a tremor of laughter out of his
voice, Drake said, “I can see that.”

“Okay, smarty pants. You’re just as wet as I am.” She
pushed the tube further into its position, clipping it back on to
the bigger tube.

“True.” He straightened, leaning back against the
cubicle wall behind him. “But it looks better on you.”

“Ha ha.” Raking her hand through her hair again, she
made a face.

“Here.” Molly reached behind the toilet, near the
wall. “Tell your readers to do this first. Turn
off
the
water here and then flush the toilet to drain the tank.”

Drake looked under the toilet. The cut-off knobs
seemed clear enough. “Okay. Turn those off and then flush.”

“Go ahead.” She braced herself against the wall
again. “You do it. We learn by doing, not listening.”

“Are you always this snippy when you’re teaching
plumbing?”

She glared at him, more comical because she now
looked like she’d entered a wet t-shirt contest. “Shut up and do
it.”

Reaching behind the toilet to turn off the valves, he
reflected that in certain circumstances—with the right partner—home
repairs could be fun.

* * *

“Did you take notes?” Aaron shoved back his glasses.
“Because Emma’s been after me to fix the toilet in the cabana.

“Seriously? You have a high-paying job, you handle
million dollar accounts and you have to fix the toilet yourself?”
Drake looked at his friend as he lifted his glass to drink.

Laughter from another group at a table nearby mingled
with cheers from people playing at a pool table in the back of
funky Austin area bar.

His friend’s mouth turned down. “You know we live on
a conservative budget.”

“Yeah, so says the man with a
cabana
.”

Sitting at a corner table in the darkened bar, the
two friends sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Well, Emma says men who can work with their hands
are hot,” Aaron admitted before lifting his own glass to his
lips.

“She wouldn’t say that if she saw a toilet actually
being repaired. Besides, she married you. You’re even less of a Mr.
Fixit than me.”

His friend returned his glass to the table. “I don’t
know. You’ve got to admit though—from everything you said—that the
wet shirt thing was pretty good.”

Drake shrugged. “Of course, but it was Molly. Not
like we raced to the nearest bed and got it on. Sadly.”

“Who needs a bed?” his friend asked, leering at
him.

“You gotta be kidding me!” He gave a shout of
laughter. “You’ve been watching too much porn. Do you expect me to
believe that after ripping the wet shirt off of Emma, you’d have
dropped to your knees and gone to town on her tits right there in
the bathroom?”

“No,” Aaron said after a gloomy moment. “Not a bad
idea, but no.”

Shaking his head and still laughing, Drake said, “I
still can’t see you fixing the toilet. Or me, either, for that
matter.”

“I can see you fixing one,” his friend said,
surprisingly.

He sat his glass down, having lifted it to take a
drink. “You can?”

“Sure. Just because you haven’t done it before,
doesn’t mean you can’t. You figure out what you need to figure out.
You’re just that kind of guy. Once you set your mind to something,
you make it work. Remember that time we were all going to Cancun
for spring break? You were short on cash for the trip, but you
realized you could write Levi’s resume for him and make the money
to come with us.”

“Yeah, I wrote my way out of that one.” Drake
couldn’t help the sarcasm in his voice.

“Still. You figured it out. We all knew Levi had
graduated early and was looking for a job. Hell, he always had too
much money. You just found a way to earn it from him.”

“Long way from fixing a toilet. Maybe Levi could use
a writer now.”

“You know he’s a big time agent in California now.
Unless you want to go into acting, I’m not sure he could give you a
job. Still, he proves my point,” Aaron said doggedly. “You had a
problem back in college; you fixed it.”

Drake let out a gusty breath. “Maybe so, but I never
wanted to be a fix-it guy in the home improvement sense. Maybe I
should have gone to law school instead of journalism. Better than
having to learn to fix roofs and toilets.”

“Being handy has its benefits.” Aaron seemed envious.
“Women like men who are good with their hands.”

Shaking his head, Drake laughed. “Emma must watch a
lot of HGTV. It’s mild girl porn, all those hot contractor
guys.”

“Women don’t need porn. They have the real thing, not
that they need it. We’d give them sex anytime they want it.”

“Maybe Emma just doesn’t want to be limited to
fantasizing about you.”

He was only half-serious, but his friend just
shrugged, seeming to accept his limitations equitably.

They sat in companionable silence again, looking up
at a football game that silently played out on a big screen above
the bar.

“So, Molly’s not going to help with the blog
anymore,” Aaron mused after a few minutes.

“No.” Drake felt his mouth twist into an ugly smile.
“She’s all caught up in the Easter gig she got.”

His friend looked mildly interested. “Easter
gig?”

“Yeah, an older friend of hers usually does it, but
the woman’s having some sort of surgery, so she’s handed the
Women’s League Easter picnic off to Molly.”

“Wow.” Aaron blew out an impressed whistle. “That’s a
big deal, working with the Women’s League. On the Easter
celebration? They go all out for that one. It’s their biggest
fundraiser of the year.”

“Well, Molly’s really excited to be doing it. I think
she’s auditioning bunnies today.” Drake took another sip of his
drink.

“Auditioning bunnies?” Staring at him, his friend
frowned. “Do the rabbits have to have a special talent? I thought
they all just sat there, wiggling their noses. Not much to
audition.”

Chuckling, Drake swallowed before saying, “Don’t be
an idiot. She’s auditioning guys to
play
the Easter Bunny,
not auditioning actual rabbits.”

“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that. I’m
used to being out of some loops, but I thought I knew how rabbits
worked.”

“Yeah, I thought you knew, too.” Drake teased.

“Hey,” Aaron nudged his friend. “There’s a women at
the bar with red hair who’s checking you out.”

Drake glanced over. “Oh, yeah. That’s Preslee. We’ve
hooked up a couple of times.”

Aaron’s glass hit the table. “Really. You never
mentioned it. She’s hot!”

Shrugging again, Drake took a sip from his drink.

“You’re dating her?”

Drake glanced at the woman, raising his hand in
response to her salute. “No.
Preslee isn’t looking for anything regular—not that I’d be
interested in that with her, either. But she’s an okay
every-now-and-then, between girlfriends thing.”

“Good grief.” Aaron yanked at his tie, still looking
at the redhead. “I need to go home and see Emma.”

Drake looked at him with amusement. “Why?”

His friend took a gulp from his glass. “Suddenly had
a thought. She had a waxing appointment this morning. Maybe she’s
trying to tell me something.”

* * *

Later that day Molly walked down the line of people
auditioning for the job of cartoon character, trying not to
laugh—which was crazy because she needed an Easter Bunny for the
picnic. Of the twelve guys that had showed up today, maybe only two
or three were even possible.

“So, I have all your resumes.” She deliberately
smiled at the bunnies lined up in front of her. She remembered all
too well how nervous job interviews made the interviewee.

But some of the bunnies in front of her just made her
giggle—and not in a good bunny way.

The first guy in the line wore a cheap suit with an
open face. There were bright pink circles painted on the guy’s
cheeks and he wore a headpiece with ears that flopped instead of
standing up. In addition, the bunny suit was dirty and bunched
around his ample midsection.

Bunnies were cuddly and pudgy, rather than skinny, so
his weight wasn’t a problem, but he didn’t look cuddly.

The next bunny looked like Bruce Willis on a bad day.
He also had an open-face head piece and he was chewing on an unlit
cigar.

“Umm.” Molly’s smile tightened. “I need a cartoon
character for children’s events. These would be
non
-smoking.”

“Sure,” the bunny shifted his dampened cigar to the
other side of his mouth. “But this is just an audition, right?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s right.” Molly turned to look at the
others in the row.

One looked like he was fourteen. Another wore a
headpiece with a face that wore a grin like a leer. She moved her
gaze along.

“Ahhh. Like I said, this is for children’s events.”
She really didn’t know what to say to this guy.

Dressed in a rabbit suit with fangs and terrifying
claws, he didn’t fit the role at all.

“I thought the agency said you were looking for a
rabbit, like, in a haunted house.”

She shook her head slowly, not able to imagine why a
haunted house would want a rabbit of any sort. “Noooo. This is for
an Easter Rabbit. I don’t think many haunted houses are
bunny-shopping, particularly in March.”

The guy shrugged. “Oh. Well, okay. I guess I’ll
go.”

He turned, leaving the line.

Molly looked at the next bunny-suited possibility,
not impressed that the ears didn’t match the suit. Moving on down
the line, she stopped.

There in front of her was a man in a Playboy
Bunny-suit drag.

Seriously. Full on snug, shapely bodice, satin ears,
dark hose and high heels.

How could she have missed seeing this when she first
walked in?

She just stood in front of him now, staring.

“I know. I know,” he said. “Kid’s events. Some people
have no imagination.”

“I think I need to clarify a few things with the
agency,” she mumbled watching the guy’s fluffy tail as he walked to
the door, following the fanged bunny out.

The next bunny in the line was more encouraging,
carrying a stuffed carrot in his hand. His ears stood upright and
he also had an open-face costume, with whiskers painted on his
face.

Stopping in front of him, she shuffled through the
papers in her hand, looking down at his resume. “So, you worked as
a cartoon character—various super heroes—for several summers at the
theme park?”