“Whatever. Try to make it, even if you can’t stay long. She’s a stranger in a strange land, after all.”
“I’ll work something out.”
“Cool.” Avery glanced toward the drip plopping musically in the bucket. “You ought to have Beckett fix that leak.”
Clare scowled up at Avery, whose hair edged closer to maroon now with thick gold streaks. “What is he, my man of all work?”
“Hey, a nice benefit of sleeping with a handyman who seems to like your kids is using him when you need him. I’ve got to get back. I’ll see you at Hope’s apartment.”
She wasn’t going to use Beckett. She’d handled everything that came along for six years without a man, handy or otherwise. Just because she’d started seeing Beckett didn’t mean she’d suddenly become incompetent.
Annoyed, she dashed back upstairs, where she kept a basic tool kit. She just needed a wrench, just needed to tighten the pipe joint. Anybody could do that.
“I’m going to take care of the leak,” she told Laurie when she came down again. “If anyone calls for me, just take a message. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Are you sure? I could call over. They’d send one of the men from the inn.”
“I’m getting you your own tool kit for an engagement present.”
“I’d rather have a sexy nightie.”
“Tool kit.” She shook the one she carried. “Men aren’t always around, you know. Women have to know how to handle basic household repairs.”
“If you say so.”
“And I do.”
Now more determined than ever, Clare marched to the restroom. She sat on the floor, opened the tool kit. She’d dealt with plumbing issues before—with squeaky doors, drawers that stuck. She’d dealt with the epitome of parental frustration. Toys labeled some assembly required. When she’d been married, she’d had to learn to do what needed doing as she’d so often been on her own. And since, she’d continued to learn.
She could hardly afford to call a plumber every time something dripped. She’d be damned if she called her father when the gutters were clogged, or her lawn mower started sputtering—which it was—or some other minor annoyance cropped up.
She could certainly fix a little drip without issuing a help wanted bulletin. She picked up a wrench and got to work.
Within ten frustrating minutes the little drip became a slow but steady stream of water.
But that was okay, that was all right. She knew where she’d gone wrong. All she had to do was—
“Have you got a license for that?”
Flushed and struggling not to be furious, she looked over at Beckett. “I’ve nearly got it.”
“Let me take a look.”
“I’ve nearly got it,” she repeated.
He just hunkered down, took the wrench out of her hand. “Looks like you need a washer. I probably have something that’ll fit it out in the truck. I’ll need to turn the water off for a few minutes.”
“I know how to turn the water off.”
“Okay, why don’t you go do that while I get the washer?”
He straightened, drew her to her feet.
He hadn’t shaved that morning, she noted, plus his hair needed trimming. And he smelled of sawdust. Which all added up, in her mind, to smug, let me handle that for you, little lady, male.
“Did Laurie call you?”
“No. Why?”
Clare just shook her head and went out to turn off the water.
So it needed a washer, she thought as she watched him quickly, competently make the repair. She’d have figured it out—and she knew where to buy a stupid washer for the stupid pipe.
“That should do it. Let me turn the water back on and—”
“I’ll turn it on.”
He only lifted his brows when she swung around and walked out.
He ran the water in the sink, checked the pipes, packed up her tools. “That’ll cost ya.” In a casual move, he tipped up her chin, kissed her. “Paid in full. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I was fixingit myself.”
He searched her face, deep blue eyes puzzled and patient. “Are you pissed at me or the pipe?”
“I’m—” She made herself stop short of the fresh rant building in her throat. It was hardly Beckett’s fault. “It’s been a crappy day, that’s all. I appreciate the help.”
“Anytime. Speaking of which, I can hang with the boys after school so you can give Hope a hand settling in.”
“Is this place bugged?” she demanded. “Is there a town intercom running from here to the inn?”
“Not that I know of, but I saw Avery when I went over to get a panini for lunch.”
“And I told her I was going to call Mazie.”
“So I have to ask again if you’re pissed at me.”
“No, why would I be?” But she ground the words out because she was, for no good reason she could name. “I just don’t want you to feel like you’re on call for repairs, child care, and whatever else might come up. I know how to work these things out. I’ve been working these things out for years.”
“No question about that.” He spoke coolly, watching her face. “Is there any reason you can’t take an assist when it’s offered, or is it just an assist from me in particular?”
“No. Yes. Oh for—” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “God, crappy day, starting with dragging three irritable boys to the dentist.”
“Cavities?”
“No, so it could’ve been worse. Fine, I’m sure the boys would be happy to see you, if you’re sure you’ve got the time.”
“I can clear my busy social schedule.”
“Um, I’ll pick them up, get them started on their homework. I promised to make tacos if they were good at the dentist, which they weren’t particularly. But we’ll give that a pass as they’re quick, and easier for me.”
“How about I come by about four? Does that work?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“See you then.”
“Beckett. I’m sorry I snapped at you, and I do appreciate you fixing the leak.”
“No problem.” He started out, stopped. “You know, Clare, being able to do everything doesn’t mean you have to.”
Maybe not, she thought. But she didn’t want to forget how.
Ryder watched Beckett packing it up for the day. He knew when his brother was in a mood, and decided to poke at it to get to the root.
“You know, we could use a hand in the shop.”
“My talents are required elsewhere.”
“Babysitting. She’s got you whipped, bro.”
Beckett just shot up his middle finger.
“I guess you’ve got to make nice if you want some touch since you had that fight at Vesta.”
“What fight?” Now he looked over, and with a scowl. “We didn’t have a fight.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“We had a discussion. If people can’t tell the difference—shit.” He kicked the front tire of the truck. “Maybe she can’t tell the difference. What do I know?”
“Trying to figure her out’s your first mistake. Nobody figures women out.”
“Something’s up with her. She nearly took my head off when I fixed a leak over at TTP. It’s Lizzy, that’s what it is.”
“Clare thinks you’re making time with your ghost?”
“She’s not my ghost. Clare got freaked the other night when I took her and the kids through, and Murphy saw Lizzy.”
“Now you’ve got kids sharing your delusion?”
“And it’s not a delusion, you damn well know.” He jerked a thumb at D.A. while the dog peed on the tire he’d just kicked. “How come your dog goes upstairs and hangs out in that room every day?”
“He’s a dog, Beck. I don’t try to figure him out either.” But this was interesting, he had to admit. “The kid said he saw her.”
“He did see her. I never mentioned her to any of the kids.” He told Ryder about the incident. “Then Clare’s wigged out, and pissed off. Seems like she still is.”
“She’ll get over it. Take her some flowers or something.”
“I don’t have time to get her flowers. Besides.” He kicked the tire again. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, that matters.” Ryder shook his head in pity. He leaned in the truck window when Beckett got in. “They’re always going to figure you did something, so the easiest way around it is to distract them with flowers. Then you’re more likely to get laid.”