She looked down at herself, an expression of surprise flitting across her features as if she was only just realizing her state of undress. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh yes, right.” She glanced at him then, and there was a pinkness to her cheeks as she nervously pushed a hand through her flyaway hair, making things move interestingly beneath her shirt.

She was going to be the death of him. He’d known her for a week, and she was already leading him around by his dick.

He gave her a brusque nod, turned on his heel, and left.

…

Grady was back ten minutes later with the industrial-size wet vac he used in the barn from time to time. It wasn’t the cleanest piece of machinery he owned, but it’d suck up the water in the cottage, lickety-split. He also had a stack of clean towels to dry the floor thoroughly because on a freezing gray morning with the sun hidden behind clouds, it was going to need some help.

Thankfully, Suzanne was fully clothed in track pants and a hoodie. The pants were loose, not clingy, and she’d rolled them up to the knees. The hoodie was pushed up to the elbows and decorated with paint stains. Her hair had been pulled back in some kind of haphazard knotty thing at the back of her head, held in place by what looked to be a very fine paintbrush speared through the center. Already some strands had worked loose, brushing her face.

She’d also put on a bra. Thank fucking Christ.

“I’ll suck up the excess water,” he informed her, refusing to give himself any more time to ogle the woman. He pointed at the towels he’d tossed on the couch. “Follow behind me and dry off the floor.”

He didn’t give her a chance to reply or object or suggest another strategy because she was insulted about his gender role assumption. He liked big, loud machinery and he’d used it before. He just started up the vac and got underway, pleased that its noise obliterated any chance for conversation. He wanted to get this done and get out of here.

He had a ranch to run, goddamn it.

Grady’s job was much quicker than hers. The industrial-strength machine easily sucked up the water, making short work of it. He was also able to stand erect while Suzanne chose to do her bit on her hands and knees rather than bending over or squatting.

He resolutely decided not to think about that as he steadily sucked up water, and, between the two of them, they got the job done.

Grady was on the last section near the wall that separated Suzanne’s bedroom—the bedroom; it wasn’t hers, for fuck’s sake—from the living area. The water had almost made it to the wall and didn’t appear to have spread into the bedroom, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Flagstones were notoriously uneven, which could cause little gutters, allowing some water to flow under the door.