Kasey Michaels - Raffling Ryan

Janna proceeded to demonstrate, loading a container of caulk into the gun and then motioning for Ryan to follow her into the bathroom.

“Gun, tub. Caulk, crack. Aim, fire,” she said, each word punctuated by hand movements that certainly brought her point across, but that did nothing to make Ryan feel as if she were Tom Sawyer and he should now be looking longingly at a pail of whitewash and a mile of fence.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Janna tipped back an imaginary cowboy hat with the plastic tip of the caulk insert, then rubbed a hand under her nose as she leaned against the shower stall. “Whatsa matter, bucko? You chicken? Here,” she declared, all but throwing the caulk gun into his hands. “I’ll even hum the theme from High Noon, if that will help.”

Chicken? How dare she…how dare she laugh at him! And look so damn cute while she did it, which only made him angrier than he’d been, and he had been getting pretty peeved at this whole idea. Cleaning a garage was one thing. Not a great thing, but he had felt some stupid sense of accomplishment once the chore had been completed. But to be dared—pretty close to double-dared—into getting down on his hands and knees inside a cramped shower stall and shooting gunk into the cracks between the bright-pink tiles?

Not in this lifetime, he wasn’t!

Yes, he was. Because she had dared him, and the twinkle in her huge brown eyes told him she already knew she’d won.

Janna stepped past him, back into the hall. “I don’t think I can watch this. I’ll be downstairs, starting the grill for lunch. You do like charbroiled hamburgers, don’t you?”

“If I said I was hypoglycemic and needed red meat now, would you let me start the grill and kill the shower stall after lunch?”

Janna tipped her head to one side, considering his offer. “You’re not, are you? Really hypoglycemic, that is? No, of course you’re not. But I have to hand it to you, that was a good excuse. Just don’t ever repeat it around Zach, okay?”

“So I get to start the fire?” Ryan asked, wondering if he sounded as pathetic as he felt. Here he was, a grown man, and he hadn’t the faintest idea how to do a simple household repair. But then, why should he? He’d been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, and had never done any more onerous chores than making up his own bed. He didn’t know if he could justify his lack of mechanical skills, or if he was just plain embarrassed by that lack.

Either way, he figured starting a gas grill won hands down over caulking tub tile.

“Tell you what. You start the fire and I’ll caulk the tiles. Deal?” Janna said, and if she was laughing at him or rescuing him he didn’t know. He just knew he felt a sudden urge to grab her up, kiss her senseless for her compassion.

Still, like a man fighting over a lunch check, he did the polite thing and responded, “No, no. There’s no need. I can fix the tile after lunch. Really.”

“Really?” Janna shot right back at him. “Now, is it my turn to say you shouldn’t be silly, that I’ll do it? Because if it is, you’re plain out of luck, bucko, because you’re on. You can do the job after lunch.” She put down the caulk gun, laying it carefully on a plush rug with a huge pink rose sort of blossoming in the middle of it. “I’m feeling filthy after wading through the dirt in the garage. I think I’ll just go take a shower in the other bathroom, then come downstairs when I smell the burgers cooking.”

Ryan watched her go, tried very hard not to imagine her in the shower. Her wet skin glistening. One of those weird “net” things all soapy as she ran it over her skin.

Down her arm. Across her legs.

Bending to soap her leg.

He closed his eyes tight, tried to banish the image. Shame, shame, shame on him.

Go downstairs and light the fire? He wouldn’t even have to turn on the propane. Hell, all he’d have to do was look at the coals and they’d ignite!

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