Boom - Sabrina Stark Page 0,1

my goodies covered was infinitely more important.

Stinging or not, I kept my eyes partially open, keeping a watch on my new bathroom buddy.

He wasn't leaving.

But he wasn't moving toward me either. That was good, right?

Still, as I squinted at his silhouette, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much trouble I was in.

A lot?

Probably.

The whole thing was beyond maddening, and not only because I was naked with a stranger. Once upon a time, this property – bathroom included – had belonged to my family – and to me too, in a roundabout way.

Not anymore.

Or at least, not according to the "sold" sign I'd spotted earlier in the front yard.

If that sign meant what I thought it meant, I was definitely trespassing. But in my own defense, that hadn't been part of the plan.

I wasn't the trespassing type. When it came to laws and what-not, I was a real stickler. Cripes, I didn't even jaywalk or drive above the speed limit.

And why? It was because every time I did, it came back to bite me on the butt. Like when, you ask? Well, like now, actually.

As far as the house itself, it was old, massive, and depressingly vacant – a Victorian beauty that had seen better days.

Early this morning, I'd arrived as planned, only to find the house mostly empty, much like my bank account, thanks to Jason, my no-good, deadbeat cousin.

But forget Jason.

In the bathroom, the stranger still hadn't budged.

By now, I was officially clean and rinsed. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, I dreaded the thought of turning off the water, just like I dreaded the thought of facing him, whoever he was.

His voice, cool and conversational, carried over the sounds of the running water. "So, do you come here often?"

It was either a joke or the lamest pickup line ever. Either way, I wasn't in the mood. "I don't know," I muttered. "Do you?"

"I will now," he said.

I gave a soggy blink. "What?"

"I didn't realize it would be so interesting."

Interesting? Well, that was one way to put it.

When I made no reply, the guy spoke again. "Three minutes."

"What?"

"It's a thirty-gallon tank. And old as dirt."

Obviously, he meant the hot water tank. But he was wrong on both counts. The tank was fifty gallons, not thirty. And it was nearly brand new, installed just last month according to my cousin.

I frowned. Yes. That cousin.

The deadbeat who'd stood me up.

My frown deepened. Cripes, maybe he'd been lying about the hot water tank, too.

The stranger continued, "So do the math."

I didn't get it. "What math?"

"I'm just saying, you've got three minutes, maybe less, 'til the water runs cold."

I liked math, with one exception – story problems. I hated them. I always had. Or maybe I just hated the stranger, whether he deserved it or not.

Not only had he scared the crap out of me, he sounded way too cocky in his calculations, which was especially annoying considering that he didn't look like any math wizard I'd ever seen. Math and muscles – they weren't known for going hand-in-hand.

I repeated, "So?"

"So, you can stall if you want," he said. "But if you stall too long, you're gonna freeze your ass off."

As if he cared. Stubbornly, I said it again. "So?"

"So you want a cold shower?"

"No. Do you?" As soon as the words left my lips, I wanted to take them back.

I was naked.

He wasn't.

And I'd be smart to keep him that way. Quickly, I added, "And just so you know, that wasn't an invitation."

He gave something like a laugh. "Good thing."

I shook my head. "What?"

"That shower – it's narrow as hell."

He didn't need to tell me. I was the one inside it, after all. "So?" I said for the umpteenth time.

"So I'd need a crowbar to squeeze myself in."

I gave his imposing silhouette a good, long look. He was right. He would need a crowbar – unless his stupidly hot body was slippery with soap, in which case…. Oh, for God's sake. What on Earth was wrong with me, anyway?

And now the idiot was laughing – not loud, but loud enough for me to hear it, even over the sounds of the running water. His laughter was warm and almost contagious, which made everything ten times worse, because the sound of it was lulling me into a false sense of security.

I wasn't secure.

Far from it.

And the fact that I'd almost let down my guard showed a shocking lack of common sense. Seriously Arden, get a grip, will ya?

I told him, "And stop