Midnight Kiss (Virgin River #12)(34)

“I prefer to sleep alone.”

“Well, then, darlin’ Jordan, you’ve clearly not slept with the proper man. A pity, that is.”

“You think you’re him?” Her tone dripped condescension.

“Now, don’t be getting ahead of yourself. I haven’t even decided if I like you yet.” His smile was unrepentant.

She had to grin back. His unfailing good humor made him difficult to stay mad at. “You are too much, Will Masterson. I can’t decide if you’re dumb as a post or the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”

“While you’re pondering, I’ll be right up. Hit the lock.”

“Wait—I didn’t say you—”

Too late. He’d already disappeared from sight.

Jordan slammed the sticky window down, shivering from the cold air that had filled the room. She should just leave him out there in the rain. It was so bone-deep cold that he’d soon leave.

But until he did, she was trapped in here, the same cage she’d been clawing to escape.

Damn the man. Suddenly, Jordan laughed out loud. What the hell—she’d been wanting entertainment, but she’d never in a million years imagined it being Will. She crossed the floor and punched the button, wondering just when she’d lost control of the situation.

Probably about five seconds after they’d met.

But she’d get it back, and then she’d boot him out, just like the others.

He didn’t knock but instead turned the knob and walked right in, standing in the doorway dripping. “That’s my girl. I knew you wouldn’t leave a poor man to freeze.”

Jordan nodded toward the coatrack on the wall. “Hang up your coat right there.”

He did so, even going so far as to pull off his boots, but his eyes were busy taking in the space around him. She had a sense of all her secrets being bared.

Will took his sweet time, not moving from where he stood, barely less imposing in his socks. He glanced up, and his face wreathed in smiles. “A pressed tin ceiling,” he said in reverent tones. “An interesting jumble, this. There are secrets here to be mined, darlin’ Jordan. A man could spend some time doing it.”

“Don’t get any ideas. I only took pity on a fool who’d stand out in the rain.”

“That you did, sweetheart. And there’ll be stars in your crown for the doing.” He rubbed his hands together. “You wouldn’t happen to have a wee drop, now, would you?”

Jordan snorted. “I never met a man who sounded like a Pat O’Brien movie before. By that, I guess you mean something alcoholic?”

Blue eyes twinkled. “To be sure, you’ve never met a man like me before, Jordan Parrish. You may not yet be up to the challenge, but I might be willing to take on the task of grooming you for it.”

“You wish.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve probably got some tequila and limes. We could try body shots.”

He cocked his head. “Hmm, interesting game, that. We never played it in my pub.”

She had to chuckle. “You big faker. Marly told me you’ve been in the country several years.” She walked toward the kitchen area, all too aware of his large frame right behind her. As a tall woman, she wasn’t used to feeling dainty, but that’s exactly how Will made her feel.

“It’s in the blood, Jordan darlin’. Peat fires and the call of the auld sod. A man can’t help what he is, and I’ll thank you not to make sport of me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Here we go. You can have…” But he’d left her, his concentration already switched to something else.

Her kitchen faucet? She’d never had a man up to her place who’d paid more attention to her loft than her body. Right now, he was turning handles, then using those capable hands to unscrew something on the tip of the faucet.

He shook the metal piece and slapped it against his palm until a tiny screen fell into his hand. Will held it up to the light, frowning. “This screen needs replacing. And how long has this faucet been dripping?”

“What business is it of yours?”

He glanced around. “I suppose it’s too much to expect that you’d have a toolbox?”

“Of course I do. No twenty-first century woman is without one,” she huffed.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Jordan grabbed for the part. “Give me that. I can take care of my own repairs, thank you very much.”

“Can you now?” Placing the metal whatever-it-was and screen in her hand, he executed a sweeping invitation. “Please. I love to watch a woman work.”

“I’ll do it later.” She slapped the parts on the counter and turned away.

“Oh, but there’s no time like the present, didn’t your mum teach you that?” Will relaxed against the counter, arms crossed, a big smile on his face. “Humor me. I’d so enjoy it. I’m in no hurry.”

“I’m not in the mood.” Jordan walked past him, drinks forgotten.

His arm shot out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. “Oh, darlin’, I do enjoy the way you do that.”

She leaned back, all too aware of how well they fit together. “Do what?”

His other hand slid up her back, tunneling into her hair, tilting her head slightly. “Lie with such arrogance.” His head lowered to hers and he growled softly. “You sure you’re not Irish?”