Page 16

Charlie wouldn’t let us leave the bar until closing—too busy having the whole place cheering as she belted out songs about heartbreak, dirt roads, and bad decisions.

Somewhere between her fifth margarita and grinding on every man who bought her a drink, I stepped in as her designated driver and got her home before things went too far with someone she might actually remember in the morning.

It’s well past midnight when I get back to the cottage, so I’m surprised to find the lights are still on. I stop in the kitchen doorway, shocked to find soaked towels spread across the floor and Jensen lying on his back under the sink, my tools scattered around him.

“What happened?” I exclaim.

A clatter of metal echoes beneath the sink as Jensen drops whatever tool he was holding.

“Shit,” he mutters.

He grabs the tool from the ground before moving out from under the sink.

As he stands to his full height, that’s when I realize he’s shirtless.

Every ripple and curvature of his bare chest is on display, a light dusting of hair trailing over the firm planes of his torso.

His body is a sculpted piece of art and far more impressive than anything I’ve ever seen.

My eyes drift to the waistband of his Wranglers.

Wait. What?

My jaw falls open, and I do a double take when I realize he’s actually wearing a pair of worn-in blue jeans.

Not the designer brand he’s favored since he got here.

The switch from his usual polished style makes my pulse quicken.

It’s absurd how sexy he is, and suddenly, I can’t help but imagine him on horseback with a hat, every bit the cowboy he once was.

He clears his throat, and when our eyes meet, a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Something catch your eye, Briar?”

I force a laugh and avert my gaze, pretending I wasn’t just ogling my shirtless roommate—who also happens to be my boss and my brother’s best friend.

“What? No,” I rush out. “I was just wondering how the kitchen floor turned into a splash pad while I was out.”

“A pipe burst under the sink while I was upstairs putting Caleb to bed.” He motions to the mess around him.

“I came down to find water shooting out from under the sink like a fire hydrant. I watched a few tutorials online, figuring I could fix it before you got back, but it turns out I’m better at patching broken code than busted plumbing.

” He rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish shrug.

I nod to the tool in his hand. “Guess that explains the non-adjustable wrench.”

He raises his hand in mock surrender. “It was either this or duct tape.”

“And here I thought your most questionable decision was pineapple on pizza.” I toss my purse on the counter and gather my hair into a messy bun.

“You’re in luck,” I say, pulling out a hair tie.

“I’ve fixed enough busted pipes to earn a gold star in plumbing disasters—no duct tape necessary.

This is a walk in the park compared to when I had to crawl under cabin four during a snowstorm, with a raccoon giving me the stink eye like I was the intruder. ”

He arches a brow, intrigued. “A raccoon in a snowstorm? Sounds like something straight out of a movie.”

If that’s the case, I can only imagine what he’d think of the chicken rescue mission my friends and I managed earlier tonight. But I’m keeping that little adventure to myself for now.

I slide under the sink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light as I survey the pipes.

Water’s still dripping, so I grab one of the towels and blot the area dry.

“Can you pass me the plumber’s tape?” I call out to Jensen.

“It’s the silvery, fabric-like roll in the toolbox.

Oh, and I’ll need a clamp to stop the leak. ”

The toolbox lid clicks open, followed by the shuffle of footsteps. I’m not expecting Jensen to drop down next to me, the space between us shrinking as he holds out a flashlight, casting a beam on the pipes.

He holds out the plumber’s tape and clamp. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

With the cold floor pressing into my spine, I crane my neck toward the pipe.

My fingers tremble slightly as I thread the tape around the pipe, distracted by a shirtless Jensen lying beside me.

He’s holding the flashlight like it’s no big deal while I’m trying not to sneak another glance in his direction.

My heartbeat quickens when he tilts his head, his breath grazing my cheek as he leans closer.

“So, what’s the damage?”

“Um… the joint’s cracked, so I’m patching it temporarily. I’ll replace the whole section tomorrow.” Why is it so difficult to concentrate on the words coming out of my mouth?

Jensen smells like cedarwood and mint, and it’s criminal how intoxicating it is.

I don’t notice that I’ve shifted closer until his bare chest is pressed against my arm, and a spark of electricity shoots through me.

Thank god the flashlight’s aimed at the plumbing and not the way I’m blushing like a teenage girl with her first crush.

I remind myself I’m here to fix a broken pipe, not climb this man like a tree.

I only had one drink tonight, and that was hours ago—but with the way my body’s reacting, you’d think I was tipsy and desperate.

It’s been way too long since I’ve gotten laid.

Maybe I should take Charlie up on her offer to set me up with the lawyer.

He’s successful, charming, and most importantly, not the insanely attractive single dad currently watching me fix a leaky pipe like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Yup. I definitely need to get laid.

I tighten the clamp, giving it one last look before wiping my sweaty palm on my jeans.

“That should hold until I can do the full repair in—” The rest of the words get stuck in my throat as I turn and catch Jensen staring at my mouth.

The flashlight in his hand casts soft shadows across the cramped walls of the cabinet, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw.

When I shift, his gaze drops lower, lingering on the curve of my chest. I took off my flannel before getting to work, leaving me in a tight black tank top.

“That was kind of hot,” he says, his eyes still locked on me .

I tilt my head, smirking. “Are you referring to the temperature of the space?”

His head jerks in a nod. “Yeah. That.”

“Maybe we should get out from under here, then,” I suggest.

“Good idea,” he says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before climbing out from under the sink.

I’m left disappointed when the warmth of his body is gone. I peek my head out to find his hand extended, and I can’t help the flutter in my chest as he helps me rise to my feet.

“Thanks.”

“You’re the one who fixed the busted pipe. I should be thanking you,” he says.

I like this side of Jensen. He appears more relaxed. His typically serious demeanor has faded, and I’m getting a glimpse of the playful side usually reserved for Caleb.

An expression I can’t decipher flickers across his features, and my heart rate speeds up when his gaze flits across my face, settling on the spot just below my mouth.

“What is it?” I whisper.

He steps closer. “You’ve got a smudge—right here.”

My breath hitches when he slowly reaches out and drags his thumb across my chin, grazing my lower lip, his fingers resting lightly on my jaw.

My heart races as I imagine what it would be like if he leaned in and kissed me.

Given the intensity in Jensen’s eyes, I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

I swallow hard, my hooded eyes glancing up at him. “No,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear how loud my heart is racing. “You’re practically walking around naked, so it’s hard not to stare.” I don’t bother hiding my smirk.

“Didn’t exactly improve my repair skills now, did it?

” he asks, his gaze shamelessly lingering on my mouth.

“But you, on the other hand, were exceptional. Especially for someone who managed to fix a pipe without stripping.” He winks.

“I’m honestly impressed. You’ve definitely earned that gold star. ”

“High praise coming from the shirtless distraction committee,” I tease.

He damn well knows the effect he’s having, standing there all bare-chested and smug with confidence, close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off of him.

“Glad I could be useful,” he quips, his eyes glimmering with fascination. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear he leans in a fraction. “You smell like apples,” he murmurs.

My knuckles turn white as I grip my hands into fists. “It’s my body wash.”

“It’s nice.”

I force myself to remain still, my body coming alive with him so close.

My pulse is pounding in my ears as his breath whispers against my lips, the undercurrent of desire in his touch leaving me trembling.

We’re supposed to be roommates, friends at most, and I can’t let my emotions get the best of me.

The adrenaline from the chicken heist is still coursing through me, and I haven’t had a real release in a while. That’s why I’m so hot and bothered—not because of the shirtless man in front of me.

On impulse, I reach toward his chest but catch myself before losing complete control, forcing my hands back to my sides.

“I have an early morning tomorrow, so I should get to bed,” I say, forcing the words out.

Jensen runs a hand through his hair, blowing out the breath he must’ve been holding. “Yeah, me too.”

I take several steps back toward the stairs. “Night.”

Jensen’s face is unreadable, but I catch the subtle flex of his hand, the fingers that brushed my skin rubbing together. I can’t tell if he’s trying to shake off the moment or if he’s grappling with the same rush I felt when he touched me .

“Night, Briar,” he drawls.

I offer him a quick wave before darting up the stairs, not stopping until I’m in the bathroom with the door shut. I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face, trying to calm my racing heart.

I must be ovulating.

That’s the only explanation I can come up with for why I reacted the way I did. Sure, Jensen was shirtless, but I’ve seen plenty of men working bare-chested in the fields on a hot day, and not one of them ever made my knees go weak just by standing next to them.

I blame those damn Wranglers. Seeing him slowly start to embrace his cowboy roots is messing with my head, especially when that lazy Montana drawl slips into his voice, turning every word he says into a slow-burn seduction. It’s absolutely unfair to my nervous system.

Jensen brought Caleb to Bluebell to ease him into his new life and provide him with a stable environment.

The last thing he needs is to live under the same roof as a woman whose brain short-circuits when she sees a hint of denim or hears his drawl.

Yes, there’s mutual chemistry there, but I can’t risk doing anything to mess up Caleb’s stay at Silver Saddle Ranch. His happiness comes first.

Which means one thing is for certain: Jensen Harding is strictly off-limits.