Page 3 of Bullet

Izzy picks up on the second ring. “Hi, Amelia. This is a surprise.” I hear music and laughter in the background.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Izzy, but I have a huge problem,” I tell her, feeling guilty about taking her away from her good time. Being a principal means separating your work life and home life. I love the staff at the school, but I’m careful not to cross the line and become too friendly, so I can make sure I treat everyone fairly.

I hear footsteps as she walks away from the brouhaha. “How can I help?”

“I recently found out that my roof has multiple leaks. It’s raining outside and inside my house. I called Fix-It Guys, but they’re not answering. I’m wondering if they have an emergency hotline or something,” I say, kidding but not.

“Hold on,” she responds, and I can hear her heels tapping on the floor. She speaks to someone, although I can’t quite make out what she’s saying.

I do, however, hear “Hand me the phone,” spoken by a low, sexy voice, almost a rumble, but smooth as well.

I must be losing my mind. It’s just a voice! Lord, this is a sign that I need to get out more. I’ve been doing nothing but going to work and coming home since I got to town. I’ve completely ignored my social life.

“Hey, this is Bullet, the other partner in Fix-It Guys. I hear you have a leak in your roof,” the smooth, sexy voice says.

I barely manage to get the words out. “Leaks. Plural. More than one. More than two.” I hear his chuckle and, oh my God, it’s even better than his voice. I clear my throat. “I realize there isn’t much you can do when it’s raining outside, and I would have waited until morning, but one leak keeps getting bigger, and I’m worried that the roof might cave in.” I know I sound utterly panicked, but I put most of my savings into this house. “If Crush could come out, just to take a quick look⁠—”

“Crush is off duty tonight,” Bullet replies, then adds, “but I’ll come take a look and see what we can do. No promises. It’s raining hard, and maybe the best I can do is minimize the damage, but I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

I start to give him my address, but he quickly says he’ll get it from Izzy. She’s been to my place before, and that was to drop off report cards on a day I had the flu.

“Thank you,” is all I manage before he hangs up. The crackle of thunder and the bolt of lightning scare my little kitties, and my babies run to their mamma, curling at my feet and waiting to be picked up.

I pick up my two little Munchkin kittens and make my way to my overstuffed armchair, which I dragged into the corner of the room earlier to keep the water from dripping onto the plush, deep green fabric. I picked up Puss and Boots from the animal shelter last month. I had gone to see if they needed any volunteers on the weekend and ended up falling in love with my kitties. They were abandoned earlier that week, and I swear, when they saw me, they came right to me, looking up at me with their scrunched-up faces, and I knew they’d picked me for their mama.

Puss is white and gray with a patch of black between her eyes, while Boots is all white except on her paws, where she has tufts of light gray. They’re both beauties, and they’re mine. I never had pets growing up, mainly because we were never in a place long enough to think about introducing one. Dad was an enlisted man, and Mom, my older brother, Jason, and I followed wherever he went. Dad was stationed all over. It was both good and bad. Good because I got to meet all kinds of different people and have lots of experiences that I might not have had if he were stationed at one base, yet it also sucked because anytime I made friends, I would have to leave.

The first place I lived for an extended period of time was at college. I learned quickly that no matter how much my friends and I promised to write and keep in touch, our commitment quickly waned, and we’d forget or get busy with our lives.

I thought I’d miss my friends, but I don’t. It could be that I’ve been conditioned for so long to expect that all good things will come to an end that I never really tried to connect with my colleagues as more than coworkers. I liked them all and got along with everyone, but the transition wasn’t as difficult as I imagined.

I often wonder what that says about me. Am I a loner and destined to always be one? That would totally be a bummer, because I’d like to plant roots and have a bestie to share secrets with. I love my brother, but Jason is following in Dad’s footsteps and is usually halfway across the world at any given time. We’re as close as we can be considering I rarely get to see him. We email all the time. I send letters, and I love getting responses, mainly because that means that he’s alive and well. I try not to think about what might happen to him, because that would break my heart.

Another thunderous clash jerks me out of my thoughts as I wait patiently for the dude, Bullet, to arrive. Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes before the doorbell rings, and I set my darlings on the chair and jog to the door to let Bullet in. Our school account was handled by his partner, Crush, who is a quiet man, but thorough and respectful. But when I see Bullet, the other half of Fix-It Guys, I nearly gasp.

Dear God in heaven, I was expecting a potbellied older man with a receding hairline to be on the other side of the door, because in my mind, a guy can’t sound that sexy, then actually be that sexy. That would be so unfair!

He’s wearing a leather jacket, raindrops pouring down over his chiseled jaw. His bright blue eyes stare into mine, and his lips curve into a sly grin.

“I’m Bullet. Do you think you can let me in?” Yes, his voice, like fine whisky, is just as smooth in person as it was over the phone.

As I open the door, there’s another crash of thunder, and my girls jump off the chair, heading straight for the open door.

“Puss, Boots, no!” I cry out. But they’re not interested in going out into the cold, wet night. Their goal was to cuddle up around Bullet’s feet, mewing and clawing at his pant leg to get his attention.

Bullet bends down to pick up my babies. Nose to nose with them, he grins as they pat his cheeks with their tiny paws. A swoosh comes over my belly. I’m jealous of my cats! I’m totally off my rocker. Bullet is being all sweet and gentle, cooing and calming my kittens, and I’m envious of the attention he’s giving them.

“They’re cute,” he says, turning his eyes to me. “Puss and Boots. Clever.” He gives me a smile that would melt the coldest heart, and that swoosh in my belly becomes a gushy warm glow. I smile back shyly.

“They were rescues. I can’t believe anyone would dump these little girls in a ditch like they did. I walked into the shelter, and they came right over to me.” As if to verify my story, Boots gives a sympathetic meow.

“Shut the door, babe. I’ll set them down, and then I can get started.” I shut the door, and he puts my kittens down on the floor. They don’t go very far but give him enough room to walk about the living room. There are three drip spots in this room: two in the kitchen and one in my bedroom. Thankfully, it’s not over the bed, but the dripping noise is driving me crazy.

“Is this the only room?” he asks, staring up at the ceiling.

“Um, no, the kitchen and my room too.”

“I’m going to have to go up on the roof to see how much damage is done,” he says, then walks over to the kitchen, where he sees the bucket. “Have you emptied the bucket at all?”