The next week, the brothers started helping without being asked.
It began on Tuesday when Mia’s kitchen faucet started dripping again. She was wrestling with a wrench, water spraying everywhere, when a knock sounded at her door. Ryan stood there in a tight gray t-shirt and jeans, tool belt hanging low on his hips.
“Heard you cursing through the wall,” he said with a lazy grin. “Let me take a look.”
Before she could protest, he was inside, filling her tiny kitchen with his broad frame. Mia tried to stay out of his way, but the space was too small. Every time he reached for a tool, his chest brushed against her back. The heat of his body soaked through her thin cotton shirt. Her n*****s tightened instantly, poking against the fabric like they had a mind of their own.
“Sorry,” Ryan murmur
