focused on the board, where a deep indentation showed that the hammer had more than pushed the nail out. “I was brooding,” she said, before oh-so-casually glancing up.
Damn, she thought again. He was gorgeous, even if he was a slacker.
A smile deepened creases in his cheeks and crinkled the skin beside his eyes. Today he wore jeans again and a gray T-shirt that bared nicely developed muscles in his upper arms.
He must have a girlfriend.
“About what?”
“Oh…” She thought fast. “Just about school. Nothing earth-shattering.”
“Speaking of which…” Ryan crouched beside her. “You must have a real problem for Kathleen to relent and call me.”
“I insisted.” Jo gestured with the hammer. “Behold the rot.”
He did, and grunted. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I can cut up sheets of plywood and replace the subfloor, but real plumbing is beyond me.”
He smelled good, she was disconcerted to realize. Or maybe she was disconcerted to have noticed. She caught a hint of sweat, aftershave and something else warm and male.
Jo scowled, but he didn’t notice. He was frowning, too, as he studied the exposed pipes.
“Can you tell what’s wrong?” she asked.
He grunted again. “What isn’t? I’ve been telling Kathleen the pipes all need replacing. Look at the corrosion.”
Every pipe she could see was rusty and wet. “Can you replace them?”
The frown still furrowing his brows, he looked at her. “I can, but it’s going to be a big job.”
Her hand felt slick where it gripped the hammer. She had to tear her gaze from his thighs, as well-muscled as his arms, the denim tight over them.
Jo took a deep breath. “We don’t have a shower until we get this bathroom done.”
Oh, lord. Did she smell?
If so, he didn’t seem to mind. Forehead still creased, his expression no longer looked like a frown. He was studying her with disconcerting intentness, his eyes smoky, darkening…
A bumping sound gave away the presence of someone else. Ryan jerked and swung around. “Hummingbird!” he said, voice gentle and friendly, his smile so easy, Jo was sure she’d imagined the moment of peculiar tension. “You’re helping?”
“Yes, I am,” the little girl said solemnly, her big eyes taking in the two adults, her thoughts inscrutable.
Ryan rose with an athletic ease that Jo envied. She was beginning to feel as if her knees would creak and crack when she stood.
“Oh, dear.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been sitting here like a slug, not getting anything done. I don’t have another load for you yet.”
Helen stuck her head in. “Has Ryan figured out our problem yet?”
“Ryan figured it out before his sister made an offer on this house,” he said dryly. “She just didn’t want to hear it.”
“You didn’t think she should buy it?” Jo asked in surprise. “It’s a great house.”
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “Given real estate prices in Seattle, what she paid was fair, too. She just didn’t want to recognize that the place was a bargain because it needed so much work. She figured she could get by with cosmetic fix-ups. A little paint, maybe eventually a new roof…” He shrugged. “It was built in 1922. The wiring hasn’t been updated since about 1950, and the plumbing needs to be completely replaced.”
He looked and sounded exasperated.
“If she can’t afford it…” Jo said tentatively.
Through gritted teeth, he answered, “She should let me do it.”
It was hard to engage in any kind of meaningful debate when you were squatting at a man’s feet, but Jo didn’t let that stop her. “Don’t you admire her independence?”
“Sure I do.” His mouth twisted. “But I’m not Ian. Her ex,” he added as an aside. “Why can’t her pride handle a little help from her brother?”
Helen’s face showed the same struggle Jo felt—sympathy for both points of view.
“How would you feel if Kathleen was trying to help you out financially?” Jo asked.
“I’d take the damn check, if my kids depended on it,” he said brusquely. Then he gave a faint laugh. “Sorry. It’s not your fault that Kathleen and I butt heads. I’m just glad that you apparently do have some construction skills.”
She felt an absurd glow of pleasure at the compliment. Some women wanted to be told that they were beautiful. She apparently reveled in being praised for competence.
Perhaps, she thought ruefully, because she wasn’t beautiful. Not like he was, or his sister. Pretty, maybe, if the beholder was generous. But she had not spent her life fighting off suitors.
At the sound of a car engine, she smiled as if he hadn’t both pleased her and stung her feminine vanity all at the same time.
“I do believe Kathleen’s home,” Jo said. “The two of you can go at it to your heart’s content.”
ALTHOUGH HE’D HAVE RATHER stayed and worked beside Jo Dubray, who was far too petite to be wielding a hammer so ably, Ryan went outside, argued briefly with his sister and headed home to get the supplies he needed to work on the bathroom.
He hated doing plumbing. Wood was his passion. He liked building and restoring equally. Rebuilding a curving banister in an old house, recreating the molding that would have framed tall windows in the 1890s, baring and polishing and laying hardwood floors, those he enjoyed.
But for his sister and Emma, he’d do anything. And why not? Now that his kids had moved a couple thousand miles away with their mother and her new husband, his weekends and evenings would be damn empty if it weren’t for Kathleen and Emma. What they hadn’t realized was that he needed them more than they needed him.
By the time he got back Jo had managed to remove the entire subfloor and replace parts of it with thick plywood. She’d left the plumbing and glimpses of the downstairs ceilings exposed. As he dropped his first load, he heard the distant sound of a saw, but didn’t see her.
Heading back downstairs for another load of PVC pipes, he grimaced. Damn it, he’d had better things in mind for this weekend. Indian summer, the end of September, the day glowed with golden warmth that had chased away the night’s chill. He’d intended to start with a run around Green Lake, then pick up the damn apples rotting on his lawn and finally mow it, he hoped for the last time this fall.
Well, hell. Maybe plumbing didn’t sound so bad after all. Especially not with an interesting woman popping into the bathroom to check on him. Maybe bringing him a can of soda,
