Claire wiped her hands on her blouse for the fourth time and scolded herself. They were only plumbers. Men who fixed taps. Men who didn’t care if her lipstick was a shade too dark or if her blouse dipped low enough to show a line of cleavage when she leaned.
But her heart still thudded like she was about to go on a date, wild and unruly, every beat a secret knocking.
Let them fit you… Read them all.
The van pulled into the driveway, its rumble vibrating through the quiet townhouse, the sound like a throat clearing before confession. She pressed a palm to her stomach, smoothing fabric that didn’t need smoothing, and opened the door before they could knock.
Three men filled the threshold.
Justin grinned first, tattoos crawling out from under his rolled sleeves like restless ivy. His gaze flicked down her body and back up again, deliberate, amused. “Afternoon, love. Heard you’ve got a drip.”
Behind him, Clyde loomed larger, broader, his presence filling the doorway more than the van had. He didn’t smile, didn’t need to. His eyes scanned her face, her blouse, the tremor in her hand on the doorknob. He nodded once, as if confirming something she hadn’t spoken yet.
Marcus brought up the rear, toolbox in hand, his dark hair falling soft at his temple. His smile was easier, smoother, the kind that made women trust him before they knew better. “Show us the problem,” he said gently.
Claire led them upstairs, her pulse hammering louder than her heels on the steps, each strike a drumbeat of want. She had rehearsed this moment, told herself it was only an excuse. Just a tap. A simple job.
But when Justin crouched at the sink and twisted the knob, only a slow drip fell into the basin. His laugh was low, almost cruel.
“Nothing wrong here, sweetheart. You called us out for this?”
Heat flamed her cheeks. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Marcus set the toolbox down with a soft thud. He stepped closer, tilting her chin with two fingers until her eyes met his. “Tell us what you really wanted.”
The room felt too small. The drip from the tap echoed like a heartbeat, steady as a metronome, relentless.
Claire swallowed hard. Her lips trembled, but the truth fell out in a whisper. “I wanted you.”
Silence. Then Justin stood, grinning sharp. “Knew it.”
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