I pull my phone out of my pocket to call Beau Boudreaux, who also happens to be my landlord.
Of course, there is no answer.The man lives upstairs, directly above this shop. Can’t he hear the water? Does he sleep like the dead?Or maybe he’s not home.
I frown and open my mind, searching the building.
He’s home. I can feel his presence.
And he might be naked.
I immediately slam the psychic door shut and walk outside, up the wrought iron steps to his loft, and bang on the door.
“Wake up,” I mutter. “And put some pants on.”
I raise my hand to bang again, but the door is flung open and there’s Beau, rubbing sleep from his eyes, a frown on his handsome face.
He’s pulled some sweatpants on.
“What’s going on?” he demands.
“I have a leak,” I reply and swallow hard, willing myself to keep my eyes on his face, and not the sculpted muscles of his torso. I’ve met the man exactly twice, including right now, but what he does to my libido is ridiculous.
I’d forgotten that I have a libido.
Which is a sad statement all on its own.
“You had to wake me up at four-thirty for a leak?”
“I have three inches of water on my floor,” I reply and turn to stomp down the stairs. “Come look!”
I don’t look back as I wade back into my store. A few moments later, I hear Beau come clomping down the steps and look back as he fills the doorway with his wide shoulders. He’s tall, pushing six-and-a-half feet. His hair is dark, and his eyes are like old whiskey.
Those whiskey eyes survey the space, frowning when he sees the amount of water on the floor.
“Do you know where it’s coming from?”
“The bathroom,” I reply and lead him to it.
“The fucking ceiling fan?” He exclaims and shakes his head. “I was expecting the toilet to be overflowing. Old plumbing is unpredictable.”
“I was expecting the same, but here we are,” I say and cross my arms over my chest. He glances back at me, and his eyes drop to my cleavage for just an instant before he looks me in the eye.
I don’t uncross my arms.
“I’m going to shut off the water to the building.”
He rushes back outside and a few moments later, the water slows to a small trickle, and then fast drops.
He comes back inside and looks up. “Must be a broken pipe.”
“Are you a plumber as well as a billionaire mogul?” I ask, unable to resist.
His lips twitch. “I’m good at a lot of things.”
Oh, I just bet you are.