“You’re not dreaming,” said Liberty. “Should we call the police?”
Isobel glanced at her as she drank from the coffeepot again. “And say what? A hot guy is giving Uncle Sam an enema to end all enemas? And that I’m pretty sure Abraham Lincoln is involved somehow? Yeah, then Daisy’s coworkers will reserve a special padded room just for me.”
“She’s not wrong,” said Daisy, touching her upper chest. “Two weeks ago, we had to deal with some guy who was positive he saw a man turn into a bear near campus. A big polar bear apparently. No amount of reasoning was going to talk him off that point. That earned him an extended inpatient stay. Think what Isobel would tell them would go off any better?”
“We have to do something,” said Liberty, rushing to the front door. She went to unlock it, only to find it wasn’t locked to start with. That was odd. Isobel had been the last one in, but normally she was good about making sure the house was secured before heading to bed.
A flash of worry raced through Liberty at the realization that she might have had another round of moving items while asleep but didn’t recall doing so. Was she the reason why the door was undone? It was something she’d bring up to the girls later, but for now, she had an old man to save.
Liberty raced out front, unconcerned with the fact she was braless in a thin blue T-shirt and sweatpants that had the school mascot on them. She hurried down the steps of the front porch, her bare feet protesting instantly as she stepped on one of many loose pebbles. Ignoring the bite of pain, she kept going, running across the street, only remembering to look for cars after she was already in the road.
Thankfully there weren’t any. The only parked vehicle in the area now was the telecommunications van. The windows were tinted to the point it was impossible to see if anyone was in it and, just like always, there were no workmen wandering around the area.
She set her sights on the hot guy hosing off the older man.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice coming out in a shrill screech rather than anything close to even-keeled.
At the same second, several of the pebbles were launched into the air, past her in the direction of the source of her ire. With a quick gasp of breath, Liberty managed to gather enough control of her emotions to divert the pebbles in midstream. They struck a willow tree at the end of the driveway.
Do not flatten the house. Do not flatten the SUV. She faltered in her step but recovered quickly, setting her sights back on the situation at hand. Possibly flatten the guy with the hose.
The exceedingly tall and built man spun around, still holding the elderly male and still spraying the hose. Although he was no longer spraying the older man with it. He was spraying Liberty—in the face and upper chest.
She tossed her hands up in an attempt to stop the blast of cold that was soaking her and rethought hurling pebbles at him. She turned her head, making her wet hair fall into her face and stick to her cheek. “Stop!”
He did.
“Way to go, dumbass,” said the elderly man as he cupped his groin, blocking most of it from view. Sadly, there were still some things that weren’t left to the imagination. She did her utmost best to pretend otherwise.
The older man had on what looked to be a fake white beard that was dripping wet and falling down his chin.
Isobel had been right. He was dressed like Uncle Sam.
Liberty stood there, too stunned and too wet to think of anything remotely intelligent to say. As her gaze slid to the guilty party, her breath caught.
She didn’t want to find a man who would do such a thing to another person attractive, but she did. In fact, attractive didn’t do the man justice. Mouthwatering came to mind.
He was well over six feet tall, wearing a pair of what looked to be military boots, giving him additional height. He was imposing, and while everything about him said he could do some damage if he wanted, she didn’t fear him in the least.
The jeans he had on weren’t too loose or too tight. They were the Goldilocks of the jean world.
Just right.
If only I could make those jeans float away, she thought before focusing.
The black shirt that the man wore tugged at his muscular chest and upper arms, drawing attention to both areas.
With great difficulty, she dragged her gaze upward, over the man’s squared jawline. Dark stubble covered it, with slightly more appearing just under a pair of full lips, leaving him with a hint of a soul patch.
Her breathing increased as she pulled her gaze higher.
Royal-blue eyes greeted her. They were the kind of blue that didn’t seem natural. They were too intense. They were also oddly familiar. Like the man she had vague memories of from when she was little.
When she did finally get around to saying something, it wasn’t what she’d planned.
“Jackass!” she blurted, only barely managing to keep from adding the name Boris.
Chapter Ten
Liberty stood there, seething mad at the man with the hose. She was a little shocked that she’d called him a jackass, but she wasn’t about to take it back. Especially when it seemed more than warranted.
Uncle Sam continued to cup his groin as the man held him by his jacket. “Ha! Looks like your reputation precedes you, Russia. News travels fast.”
The hot guy released the hose but not Uncle Sam. His gaze locked on Liberty and descended. It widened a moment before he let go of Uncle Sam hastily.
The older man stumbled before falling to the driveway.
