Kristen Ashley - Law Man

“Yeah, I remember. That sucked.”

“It sure did. Buyin’ ice all the time and livin’ outta coolers. I don’t pay rent for that shit. Fuck that.”

Fuck that indeed.

Detective Mitch Lawson’s door opened and I realized my mistake instantly. I should have run to my house and done something. I didn’t know what. Nothing needed tidying because I was freakishly tidy. There was nothing I could do with my appearance but I figured I should have tried to do something.

He started walking our way asking, “Now a good time?”

No, no time was a good time for the Ten Point Five I was secretly in love with to be in my apartment.

I nodded and said, “Sure.” Then I looked at LaTanya and said, “Later, babe.”

“Later. Remember, a mojito is waitin’ for you, Mitch gets your faucet sorted out.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, smiled and then glanced at Detective Mitch Lawson before looking down at my feet, turning and walking the short distance to my door. I opened it, walked through and held it open for him to come inside.

He did and I tried not to hyperventilate.

“Which one is it?” he asked as I closed the door behind him.

I turned, stood at the door and looked up at him. He was closer than I expected and he was taller than he seemed from afar and he seemed pretty tall from afar. I’d never been this close to him and I felt his closeness tingle pleasantly all across my skin. I was wearing heels and I felt his tallness in the depth of the tip of my head which didn’t tip back that often to look at someone seeing as I was tall.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Faucet,” he said. “Which one? Hall or master?”

I didn’t have any clue what he was talking about. It was like he was speaking in a foreign language. All I could focus on were his eyes which I was also seeing closer than I’d ever seen before. He had great eyelashes.

Those lashes moved when his eyes narrowed.

“You okay?” he asked.

Oh God. I had to get a hold on myself.

“Yeah, fine, um…the faucet’s in my master bath,” I told him.

He stood there staring at me. I stood there staring at him. Then his lips twitched and he lifted his arm slightly in the direction of my hall.

“You wanna lead the way?” he asked.

Ohmigod! I was such an idiot!

“Right,” I muttered, looked down at my feet and led the way.

When we were both in my bathroom which, with him in it, went from a normal-sized master bath to a teeny-tiny, suffocating space I pointed to the faucet and then pointed out the obvious.

“It won’t turn off.”

“I see that,” he murmured then I stood frozen with mortification as he crouched and opened the doors to my vanity.

Why was he opening the doors to my vanity? I kept my tampons down there! You could see them! They were right at the front for easy accessibility!

Ohmigod!

He reached in, I closed my eyes in despair and wished the floor would gobble me up and suddenly the water turned off.

I opened my eyes, stared at the faucet and exclaimed, “Holy cow! You fixed it!”

He tipped his head back to look at me then he straightened out of his crouch to look down at me.

Then he said, “No, I just turned the water off.”

I blinked up at him. Then I asked, “Pardon?”

“You can turn the water off.”

“You can?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” I whispered then went on stupidly, “I should probably have done that before I left for work this morning.”

His mouth twitched again and he said, “Probably. Though you can’t do somethin’ you don’t know you can do.”

I looked to the basin and muttered, “This is true.”

“There’s a valve under the sink. I’ll show it to you after I take a look at the faucet,” he said and I forced my eyes to his. “You probably just need a new washer. Where are your tools?”

I blinked again. “Tools?”

His stared at me and then his lips twitched again. “Yeah. Tools. Like a wrench. You got one of those?”

“I have a hammer,” I offered.

One side of his mouth hitched up in a half-smile. “I’m not sure a hammer is gonna help.”

It took a lot of effort but I only glanced at the half-smile before my eyes went back to his. This didn’t do a thing to decelerate my rapidly accelerating heartbeat.

“Then no I don’t have tools,” I told him not adding that I wasn’t entirely certain what a wrench was .

He nodded and turned to the door. “I’ll go get mine.”

Then he was gone and I didn’t know what to do so I hurried after him.

I should have stayed where I was. I’d seen him move, of course, I just hadn’t seen him moving around in my apartment. He had an athlete’s grace which I had noticed before. But it was more. He had a natural confidence with the way he held his body and the way he moved. It was immensely attractive all the time but seeing it in my apartment was not going to be conducive to peace of mind; something it was difficult for me to find on a good day much less a day when my faucet didn’t turn off and I was forced to endure an evening that included Detective Mitch Lawson having to be in my apartment.

He stopped at the door and turned to me. “I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and he disappeared out the door.

I stood in my living area in my heels, skirt and blouse from work. Then I wondered if I had time to change before he got back. Then I wondered if he’d notice it if I’d spritzed on perfume when he got back. Then I wondered if I should do a shot or two of vodka before he got back. Then he knocked on my door which meant he was back.

I ran to the door, looked through the peephole (you couldn’t be too careful) and saw him looking to the side. I sucked in a calming breath then opened the door.

“Hey,” I said, “welcome back.”

I was such a dork!

He grinned. I stepped aside and he came through carrying a toolbox. Learning from my mistakes, I immediately led him through the living area, down the hall, through my bedroom and to the bathroom. He put the toolbox on the basin counter and opened it. He pulled out what I figured was a wrench and went right to work.

I watched his hands which I’d never really noticed before. They were a man’s hands. There were veins that stood out that were appealing. His fingers were long and strong-looking. He had great hands.

“So your name is Mara.” His deep voice came at me. My body jolted and I looked to his head which was bent so he could watch what he was doing.

“Yeah,” I replied and my voice sounded kind of high so I cleared my throat and stated, “And you’re Mitch.”

“Yeah,” he said to the faucet.

“Hi Mitch,” I said to his dark brown-haired head thinking his hair looked soft and thick and was long enough to run your fingers through.

That head twisted so I was looking into dark brown eyes whose depths were so deep you could lose yourself in them for eternity.

Those eyes were also smiling.

“Hi Mara,” he said softly and my nipples started tingling.

Oh God.

I scanned my memory banks to pull up what underwear I’d put on that morning. I thanked my lucky stars that my bra had light padding all the while thinking maybe I should leave him to it.

Before I could make good an escape, his head bent back to the tap and he asked, “How long have you lived here?”

“Six years,” I answered.

Shoo! Good. A simple answer that didn’t make me sound like an idiot. Thank God.

“What do you do?” he went on.

“I work at Pierson’s,” I told him.

His neck twisted and his eyes came back to me. “Pierson’s Mattress and Bed?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He looked back at the faucet. “What do you do there? An accountant or something?”