Rough Play (2 page)

“What time and where should I pick you up? Or would you rather meet?”

“Maybe next time I see you at the bar I’ll just meet you around back in five minutes?”

Heat settled in his bones and sent a groan up the back of his throat. Hell. Yeah. See, he knew this girl was something different. “I’ll be at the bar when the door opens today.”

She chuckled. “I already have plans tonight.”

“Another day?”

She grinned and reached in her tool belt again. “Let me know if you wake up from that dream to people throwing rice at us or if we’re sweating. Then I’ll let you know.”

Throwing rice? He all but shook at the idea of marriage. Commitment. One woman and a thin sheet of paper binding them for eternity. Or at least through the length of divorce court. His skin itched and crawled. Like an allergy. Allergic to the idea of marriage. Sounded about right. “I’ll do that. Will you be back here tomorrow so I can give you my answer?”

“Depends if I finish taking my measurements today.”

“How about a phone number just in case?”

Her brow arched and she pulled her tape measure from her hip. “How about we let fate decide?”

“Seems risky.”

“We’ve been passing each other for months. Fate is well on our side.”

He grinned. “True. What about a name so I know what to call out? Unless you like Diner Chick.” He glanced to her hips. “Or now that I’ve seen the belt, I can call you Tool Belt Chick.”

She shook her head and a humored huff of breath pushed out of her. “Are you saying the belt turns you on?”

He glanced down her body. He couldn’t find anything about her that wasn’t turning him on at the moment. Mud included. He nearly outlined her body with his hands, but resisted. “Will you wear it when we meet in the alley for hot sweaty sex, just steps away from getting caught?”

He thought she might have shivered, but he wasn’t sure. It was hard to tell with the way her breasts pressed against the front of that tight shirt. She stroked a hand over the old leather of her belt. “I don’t wear it when I’m not working. Besides, it would wrinkle my pants.”

“Well there’s a simple solution to that.”

“What’s that?” A single shaped brow lifted.

“Don’t wear pants.”

She laughed, but the rich sound was cut short by his brother yelling his name. “Jacob!”

He pushed his hands in his pockets, hating to go, but knowing he’d spent more than enough time here doing this and if he took any longer, his brother would bust his balls. “Boss calls. So what’s it going to be? Diner Chick? Tool Belt Chick? Or your name?”

“Flora.”

He nodded and stepped away as she turned around and returned to her work. He watched her a moment longer. The shape of her legs as she walked. The swing in her hips.

“Jacob?” his brother called again.

He shook his head and headed out the front. “I’m here.”

Grant looked up from a paper he held. “What are you doing inside?”

“Flirting with your plumber.”

Grant frowned. “Leave Flora alone.”

It was an absurd, ridiculous name. He liked it. “Um…no.”

“Leave her alone, okay? Rebecca recommended her, she’s best friends with Gretchen and Lane is
pissy
enough right now that if you make his girl upset, he’ll take it out on you.”

Jacob shook his head. Hell. Last thing he wanted was the anger of Grant’s very pregnant girlfriend. But even that probably wouldn’t be as bad as Lane and his
PMSing
. At least with Rebecca he could pick her up a batch of fudge and cookies and win her good graces back. If Lane got any worse, Jacob was buying him a box of tampons.

But still. Flora was far more tempting than the dangers of those two. “Lane says he’s not dating Gretchen.”

“You know that’s shit as much as I do. Besides, Flora is also best friends with Tonya.”

Tonya. Girl who owned the diner. When he’d managed to see Flora out and about, she often had Tonya and Gretchen attached at the hip. Still didn’t explain why their being friends had anything to do with him. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“Tonya owns the diner in town. You piss Flora off she’ll likely have Tonya pissing in your food. Then you get sick and you’ll be working even less than you are now.”

He shook his head, getting lost in the flood of names, then an idea struck. The trailer he rented was owned by one of these friends. “Does that mean Flora does the plumbing for the trailer park?”

Grant shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably. Why?”

Jacob smiled. Hell it was risky, but some things were worth it. “No reason. I’m heading out to find something to do.”

“Get on the bulldozer and widen the paths leading to the woods.”

Jacob turned and started through the manor.

“Jacob.”

He stopped. “What?”

Grant pointed to the side of the house. “Walk around the outside and leave my plumber alone.”

Chapter Two

Flora flipped out her cell and showed the picture of Jacob Iverson that she’d barely managed to grab as he walked out of the manor earlier that day. “
Here.
Man legs. Those could compete with Jason
Aldean’s
.”

Her friend Gretchen squinted at the photo, turning her head from side-to-side. “You can’t tell anything from this picture.”

Flora grinned and turned the image back to her. It was a dark photograph, but it was the best she could do at the time. There was no missing the long lean legs against the bright outdoors. That stance. And the walk. A flutter moved through her belly. “If you had been there, you could see them. Trust me. Best looking pair of man legs ever. I’ll try to get another picture for you to see.” She clicked her phone shut and gathered up her things for the
plumbing emergency
Jacob had called in. “Okay. Let me go see what he’s done to the sink.”

“How do you know he did something?” Gretchen asked.

Flora smiled as she headed out the door. “Because I know Jacob.”

“You just met him this afternoon!”

“Read step one again, darling. I’ll be back when I’m done.”

Maybe officially she’d just met him this afternoon, but she’d met him before. Had dreamed up the things he’d said when his dark eyes met hers across a room. Had dreamed up even more action they’d done together. Gretchen was currently following a magazine article to win over the man she wanted. Hell, Flora had been following that same article for months without even knowing it. Chance passing in town. Get closer. Tease him for a little without giving him the whole thing.

Check, check and check.

Flora went out the door for another round with Jacob. She couldn’t deny the energy threading through her belly. There was one thing for certain, when the man entered conversation with someone, his brothers over a regular lunch or a few minutes of flirting, he gave his all. Not that she should be too surprised. Just flirting with her across the room had her blood pumping fast and thoughts completely distracted. That was nothing compared to actually talking with him. Being close enough to smell the scent coming from him. Or the heat all but radiating off him. Or maybe that was her own speeding pulse warming her up.

This teasing, hard-to-get thing or whatever they were doing had her body heat rising so high, her clothes were probably about to catch fire and burn off her body. The first time she’d seen Jacob Iverson was when he’d walked by the front glass windows of the diner. Oh man, oh man, she had yet to forget his all out
swagger
. The strut and swing of his shoulders as he moved.

MmmMmm
.

How the corner of his lips had tipped up when he walked in and his brother caught him in a headlock. The way his t-shirt pulled on his arms and jeans tugged at his thighs. Pick a favorite dessert and that could be Jacob Iverson.

She reached in her truck for her tool belt and slung it around her hips on the way to his trailer. Like she would forget it. Ever. Something that attracted his attention which usually caused her the most trouble with men. Her tool belt. She grinned as she crossed the gravel parking lot and buttoned it in place. The few tools inside settled a comfortable weight against her thigh. A familiar clang of the metal clapped as she walked. Looked like her belt was causing more trouble, but this was a good kind of trouble. Or at least, an interesting kind. Possibly. By the way his gaze always landed on her and how often he adjusted the waist of his jeans when she blew him a kiss,
possibly
had to be good odds.

She knocked on the door, stood back, and waited as footsteps echoed across the thin floors of the trailer. She’d done her time in this place for a while. Learned to live with thin carpets. Air conditioners that couldn’t compete with the summer heat and heaters that blew nonstop in the winter from the cold. Thin walls between the bedrooms and don’t even get her started on the plumbing. In fact, that’s where she’d started plumbing. She wasn’t kidding about that wine earlier.

She and her two friends had surrounded a broken toilet. Flora was the only one drunk enough to stick her hand where she couldn’t see it to fix the damn thing…as the yellow dummy book had instructed. Who knew she’d be so good at it? The trailer park had offered her a lot of practice as there was a lot that needed tweaks and easy fixes while she got her license.

It wasn’t that Gretchen rented out cheap trailers in her park; all trailers were just that way. Creaking in the night. Wind slamming against the sides and windows always stuck somewhere. Leaky kitchen sinks.

Nothing like the comfort of owning her own brick home. No more renting. No more temporary. It was hers and no one could take it away from her.

Jacob’s white door clicked and swung open and there he was. Shirtless and in jeans. Sculpted like a statue out of an art book. Instead of slick pristine marble, he was all hard and tanned muscle. Dark hair across his chest flowed into his jeans. A letter
I
tattoo on his arm for his last name, and a black art design inked over his chest and licked along his side. She curled her fingers before reaching up and tracing the mark.

As if all that wasn’t enough, there was his face. Boyish charm amongst a whiskered jaw line. Her stomach danced, thighs clenched and pulse raced. Business first. “Call for a plumber?”

“I did.” He opened the door for her. “Thanks for coming, Flora.”

“It’s my job.” She ducked under his tanned, thick, muscular arm and squeezed past the broad warmth of his hard chest.

She spun a circle in his living room, trying hard not to stop and stare at any particular piece of furniture or the t-shirt thrown across the back of the recliner. “Where’s the problem?”

“Kitchen sink.”

“Right.” She headed to the kitchen and found a sink full of brown, soapy water. “Trying to wash dishes?”

“I went to pull the plug and realized I didn’t need it.”

“Have you tried anything?”

“Nope. I called the landlady and left it alone. Rental. I wasn’t sure if she liked us trying to fix things.”

“Of course.” She opened the sink doors and sat on the floor. A few cleaning supplies were there and she moved them aside and pulled the small bucket she kept there from the back of the cabinet to under the pipes. She could snake it. Or plunge it. Even run some chemicals down the drain to clear it easy and quick, but she wanted to know what he’d used to stop the drain up.

There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. It was too much of a coincidence to have clogged on its own. She grabbed her pipe wrench and started loosening the collar.

“You’re not going to lay under there?”

“Not if I can help it while that sink is full of water.”

“That’s disappointing. I can hardly see your legs with you sitting like that.”

Let the teasing begin. She almost hated to end up in bed with him. The quicker they hit the sheets, the quicker this would be over. The energy he’d lit in her in the last few months while undressing her with his eyes was addictive. She unfolded one leg and stretched it out to the side.

“Ah, much better.”

She glanced over her shoulder as she untwisted. “Anything else to make you more comfortable?”

“There was talk of you not wearing pants or else the tool belt would wrinkle them.”

She laughed. “That was for a date. This isn’t a date.”

“Says who?” His eyes were dark, but there was a sparkle in them that shuddered through her. “You’re here. I’m here. We’re talking, laughing, and there’s food.”

“It’s not a date. I don’t like to date. And the only food is likely clogging your drain. I’ll pass.”

“Actually, you said you’d go on one if I told you how my dream ended.”

“
Actually
,” She glanced back to him and returned to the collar. It’d be a heck of a lot easier to loosen this pipe if her palms weren’t so sweaty. “I said I’d think about it.”

“It ended with us sweaty, naked, and you screaming my name and calling me a god.”

“I just bet it did.” And she would too. Not that she’d kissed him to even know, but she just knew. It was science or pheromones or something. Nature trying to work its thing.