She frowned at the old pipe under the sink, dribbling water onto the floor. Ariella turned to her boyfriend, watching his brows furrow.
"No plumber can come in until tomorrow morning," Ariella explained, looking at the pipe with disdain. "Can you do anything?"
"I'll see," Clark said.
Ariella watched him grab the pipe and twist it to the right. More water spilled, and Ariella quickly grabbed a bucket and put it underneath the sink.
"Um, try the left?" Ariella offered with a shrug.
He gave her a curt nod and did just that.
A gasp escaped Ariella's lips as water shot out from the pipe, hitting her in the face, soaking her to her core, and she assumed Clark, too. She turned her head as another jet of water hit her, this time the side of her neck.
"AH, the threads are history!" Clark yelled, turning his head just as another jet of water hit him in the face. "I need a wrench."
Ariella rushed out of the back room into the front of the Talon. She looked around and spotted Clark's toolbox on one table. Ariella grabbed it and a towel from behind the front counter before rushing into the backroom. She stopped short when the heat came out of Clark's eyes like lasers sealing the pipe, and the remaining water slid down the pipe into the bucket.
Ariella blinked, even more intrigued by her boyfriend. "Well, you don't see that every day."
"Yeah, it comes in handy," Clark explained, getting to his feet.
He ran his fingers through his damp hair, water trailing down his neck. Ariella's breath hitched as her eyes drifted lower, unbidden and without shame. His white shirt clung to his body like a second skin, soaked through and nearly translucent. Every line of his chest, every ridge of muscle, was on display—taut, defined, impossible to ignore.
Some days, Ariella forgot just how unfairly built her boyfriend was—then he'd do something like this. Casual. Unbothered. Oblivious to the effect he had on her. And the reminder hit her like a freight train.
