With This Ring

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He was in the kitchen when she caught up with him, removing take-out containers from a large paper bag. The scents had her mouth watering. “That smells so good.”

“I picked up a few groceries, too, so we’ll have something for breakfast.”

She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Gerald was the only man she’d ever had breakfast with and the thought of waking up in the morning and having breakfast with Brent made her feel strangely self-conscious.

“Pull up a stool,” he said. “I’ll grab some plates.”

“And then after we’ve eaten, I think we’ll have to call a plumber.”

He set the last container on the counter and looked at her. “Oka-a-ay. Why?”

“I left my earrings on the vanity in the bathroom and one of them kind of went down the drain.” Like my marriage, she thought, swallowing the laughter rising in the back of her throat.

“Those were beautiful earrings,” he said.

“You mean it’s gone?”

“Oh, it’s still down there.” He looked way too amused by this.

“So if we call a plumber, he’ll be able to get it out for me?”

“Not necessary.”

That sounded encouraging. “You know how to get things out of drains?”

“Piece of cake. Did you run any water after you dropped it?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll grab a couple of tools and be right back.”

All sorts of tempting aromas rose from the take-out containers lined up on the counter. She felt a little light-headed, she was so hungry. “We could leave it till after we eat.”

“How much did those earrings cost?”

She shrugged. “A lot?”

“We’ll get it now.” He went out the back door and disappeared into a small shed. A few minutes later he was back with a red plastic bucket and a handful of tools.

She followed him to the bathroom. “Is there something I can do to help?”

He gave her two tools. “Sure. You can hand these to me when I need them.”

She took the tools and stood back while he opened the vanity and emptied it. Then he set the bucket under the sink.

“Pass me that small wrench.”

She knelt on the floor and gave him the smaller of the two tools she was holding, which turned out to be the right one because he used it to unscrew something from the underside of the pipe. Some gray-colored sludge drained into the bucket.

Max squeezed into the tiny bathroom, nearly knocking her over. She grabbed Brent’s shoulder to steady herself.

He glanced back at her and the oversized dog. “I should have put him outside.”

“I can do that,” Leslie offered. But before she had a chance to move, Max jumped into the bathtub.

“He’s fine in there,” Brent said. “At least he’s out of the way.” He swirled the crud that had drained into the bucket. “It must still be caught in the trap,” he said. He got down on the floor on his back, wedged his shoulders between the open doors of the vanity and angled his head under the sink.

She had no idea what kind of trap he was talking about.

With one hand he groped for a tool and grabbed her knee instead. “Sorry. I need the other wrench.”

She handed him the only other tool she had. “That doesn’t look like a wrench.”

“Basin wrench.” It clanged against the pipe and his biceps flexed as he wedged it into position. He heaved on it a couple of times and his T-shirt strained against his chest, then finally rode up, exposing hard, tanned abs. Very hard. Very nice. She tried to look away, but her eyes seemed to have a different idea.

Max leaned out of the tub and nudged her shoulder. Good dog, she thought. I needed a distraction.

Brent loosened some rings on the pipes and the curvy piece came away. He shoved himself out of the vanity, sat up and squinted as he looked into one end of the pipe. Then he tipped it her way so she could have a look. “There it is.”

As he scrambled to his feet, she jumped up and took a step backward. Max got to his feet, too, but he stayed in the bathtub. Brent set the bucket in the tub under the faucet and turned on a trickle of water, letting it run into the pipe.

The dog stuck his nose under the stream.

“Come on, Max. Out of the way.”

The dog stepped back but kept an eye on the water running from the tap.

Leslie watched as the grungy water flowed slowly out the end of the pipe. When the earring appeared, Brent caught it in his fingers and held it up for her to see, then he rinsed it under the tap and handed it to her. “Good thing we found it. It’d be a shame to lose all those diamonds.”

The sudden sharpness in his voice surprised her. “They were a gift from Gerald,” she said, holding it in her palm, still a little reluctant to touch it after seeing where it had been. “I’m going to give them back.”

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t lose it.”

That was true. “Nothing is going right today. I’m usually not this much trouble.”

His eyes seemed to soften. “Leslie, you’re no trouble. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to clean out the trap once in a while.”

“Is it called that because it traps things that fall down the drain?”

“Afraid not. Every time you turn on the tap, most of the water runs through the system but some of it always stays behind in this bend. That water closes off the pipe so gas from the sewer doesn’t come up into the house.”

“That is really disgusting.”

He laughed. “Not as disgusting as a house full of sewer gas.”

That was true. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation like this.”

“And I’ve never had to fish diamonds out of a drainpipe. I guess that makes us even.”

“Actually, I owe you for this. For everything.”

“Next time I need something, I’ll know who to ask.”

For the first time that day he sounded like the guy she’d known in high school, always quick with a comeback and a double meaning. It had bugged her in those days, but right now she didn’t mind playing along. “You can ask, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get what you want.”

“I’m well aware of that, but sometimes persistence pays off.”

His gaze held hers like a magnet. She couldn’t have looked away if she’d tried, and the walls of the tiny bathroom seemed to close in on them. She might have been tempted to continue the game if he hadn’t just let on that her being here had something to do with his persistence. She had assumed his driving by the church had been a coincidence, but what if it wasn’t? If that was the case, it definitely wouldn’t be right to lead him on, and she always did the right thing.

Brent lightly touched her shoulder and urged her toward the door, then bent to pick up the tools. “Dinner’s getting cold,” he said softly. “I’ll put the plumbing back together while you serve it. Plates are in the cupboard next to the fridge.”

It was as if he’d sensed her confusion and was giving her an easy way out. She took it.

Chapter Four

Leslie set out two plates, the take-out boxes and the chopsticks. She was putting away the groceries when Brent came into the kitchen. He set the bucket and tools on the porch and closed the French doors. When he turned around and looked at her, the kitchen suddenly felt as small as the bathroom.

“Um, I guess we’re ready to eat,” she said.

“Would you like a glass of wine with dinner?” he asked. “I bought white. I hope that’s okay.”

“Thanks. I’d love some. Do you mind if I use your phone to check my messages?”

“You can use the phone anytime you like.” He opened and closed one drawer, then another, and finally produced a corkscrew. “I knew I had one of these somewhere. You expecting an important call?”

“Not really. I just wondered if people are still looking for me.”

“I think it’s safe to say they are. Do you plan to return the calls?”

She shook her head.

“Then why don’t you leave the messages till you’re ready to deal with them?”

Good question. “In case you’re wondering, I’m not checking to see if Gerald called.”

“You think he would?” Brent uncorked the bottle and took a wineglass out of a cupboard.

She shrugged. “Someone called earlier, twice, and hung up.”

He glanced up at her.

“I checked my messages while you were out. I’m sure it wasn’t him, though.”

“Right.” He gestured toward the phone. “Be my guest.”

“Thanks.” But as soon as she heard the eight new messages and deleted them, she wished she hadn’t checked. For one thing, she knew Brent could probably hear them, too. Four were from Allison, who said she’d sent her husband to Leslie’s place three times to see if she was there. She might never go home if it meant having to deal with people calling incessantly and showing up at her door.

As she deleted the last message, she watched Brent pour wine into the glass. After she hung up, he handed it to her.

“Aren’t you having any?” she asked.

“Not a big fan.” He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap and touched the rim to her wineglass. He opened a drawer and took out a fork and then, almost as an afterthought, grabbed a beer glass from the same cupboard the wineglass had been in.