"But it's too big," she insisted. "It'll never fit, Grant." "Then we'll make it fit. Now look, Cammie," he said reasonably, guiding her hand with his. "All you have to do is hold it... just so. Work it back and forth, real easy now. Make sure there's plenty of lubrication. That's a girl." "Grant," she muttered, "it's too tight." "Just a little resistance," he murmured close to her ear. "And I know just how to take care of that." She shrieked in sudden pain. "Dammit, Grant! You shoved it in. And just look. I'm bleeding." "Well, hell," he shot back, "it wasn't working the other way, and at least we got the damn things connected." Grant dropped the WD-40 and the wrench next to the dryer vent, where the metal tubing now fit snugly. His victory was quickly forgotten as he jerked Cammie's hand up for closer inspection. "You are bleeding. C'mon, I'll take care of that." "I think you've done enough already," she grumbled, and he felt the distinct urge to kiss shut her lushly pert mouth. "And besides," she added saucily, "I was always the one patching up your scrapes.
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