“Yeah, I agree,” Grace said with a laugh. “Help!”
“Go find Fern, um, Mrs. Masen, and tell her to turn off the water and the electric,” Max ordered as he motored back to his room. He grabbed his tool belt, willing to try to ease the damage as much as he could, and with a wrench tried to tighten the joint on the pipe.
Water rushed at him, soaking his T-shirt and jeans until, after what felt like a million fucking years, the water stopped, followed by the lights in the bathroom, leaving the place bathed in the dim afternoon light, which crept through a small frosted window. Max slumped against the tub, water dripping from his chin. He cursed, looking down at his sopping wet clothes.
“What in the blue fuck?” Uncle Vince filled the doorway, eyes wide, a small grin tugging at his mouth, as he looked Max over.
Grace popped her head around Vince’s shoulder, unable to hold back the unladylike snort that erupted. “Oh, heavens.”
“What the hell, Max?” Ruby exclaimed with a giggle. Small chuckles of laughter quickly developed into loud guffaws.
Max shook his head and stood up, careful not to slip. He wiped a dripping hand down his face. “I’m glad I amuse you all.”
“That you do. But don’t feel bad about it,” Vince offered with a hearty slap to Max’s shoulder. “Come on. Get changed and let me buy you an orange juice.”
Dressed in a dry set of clothes, Max, his uncle, his aunt Fern, Ruby, and Josh sat at the bar in Whiskey’s drinking and nibbling potato chips. With the pipe fixed and Grace moved to the room adjacent to Max’s while repairs were made to the bathroom floor and bedroom carpet, Max started to see the funny side.
“Hero of the day!” Ruby teased him with an elbow in his ribs, which he returned.
He shrugged, avoiding looking at Grace, who was working diligently behind the bar. She’d done nothing but thank him profusely.
“I always like to save the damsel in distress,” he quipped. It’d been on the tip of his tongue to thank Grace for the image of her wet and towel-wrapped, but he managed to refrain.
But, damn, that picture was sure to stay with him a long while; girl had great legs.
“Well, at least I know where you are in case anything else goes wrong,” Grace remarked as she wiped down the bar.
“Hey!” Vince interjected with mock offense and a pointed finger at her. “It was a one-time thing. I knew those damn pipes were— Look, nothing else will happen.” Aunt Fern rubbed his back, laughing.
“You know where I am,” Max stage-whispered across the bar to Grace, who giggled into the back of her hand.
And the banter continued. Max clutched his glass of juice, threw the occasional chip or peanut into his mouth, nibbled on the few wings Vince ordered, and allowed the warmth of the people around him to seep into his skin. It had been too long since he’d felt as relaxed. With his meeting and the exciting burst-pipe shenanigans, he’d been wound tight as shit, but the smiles, laughter, and freedom he felt as he listened to his family and the other patrons loosened all of that. Even being in a bar with the smell of liquor, undeniably tempting around him, Max felt his body unfurl and calm.
“Sounds like a lot of fun was bein’ had over at your place, Vince.” A tall guy with a goatee and a distrustful gaze patted Vince’s shoulder, his eyes never leaving Max.
Vince laughed and relayed the day’s events, garnering another round of laughter.
“So you’re Max,” Goatee said with an outstretched hand. “Deputy Sheriff Caleb Yates.”
Ah.
Well, that explained the stink-eye.
Max shook his hand, smirking at the slight squeeze the deputy gave it.
“I’ve known Caleb here since he was in junior high; his daddy worked for me for many years,” Vince offered. “Never thought I’d see this guy all but running the town, though.”
The deputy chuckled. “Can I get a Heineken draft, Grace?” he muttered over the bar. He winked at her when she placed it down in front of him. “You look sweet tonight.” Max watched Grace’s reaction carefully from the corner of his eye, but saw no blush or flutter of lashes. If anything she appeared to tense up, losing the softness of her pretty face.
“Flattery will get you nowhere, Deputy. You know that. You still need to pay me a tip,” she remarked, making Max smile into his glass.
“Are you okay with that?” she asked suddenly, gesturing to Max’s almost empty glass. “I could buy you a beer to say thank you for today.” She looked toward the ceiling, her nose scrunching endearingly. “And to apologize for the other day.”
Max shook his head, smiling. “No beer. But another juice would be good. Thanks.”
“The other day?” Fern asked, looking between them. “What the hell else trouble are you two getting into?”