As beautiful as the entry was, I couldn't help but catalogue the few minor issues I’d already noticed. Weeds sprang from fertile soil, the flowers and bushes were beginning to become overgrown, and the grass looked a little long, as if it had needed a cut a week or two ago.
The porch itself felt abandoned, cobwebs hung from corners and I noted the layer of sand and dust that coated the porch swing. I could smell the sea and fancied I could hear the waves lapping, though I wasn't quite sure how far I was from actual water.
I raised a hand to knock on the door and heard an almighty crash follow my brisk tap. There was silence for a moment then what sounded like a male cursing. The unmistakable wailing of a baby followed.
I hesitated, wondering if I should come back.
Footsteps sounded on the other side with a deep voice calling, "coming, Liv."
"Oh," I called, "I'm not—" the door was wrenched open as I finished saying, "—Liv." I blinked, staring at the wealth of skin before me, my mind uncharacteristically blanking.
Skin. Man. Hot. Dirty. Skin. Filthy. Man.
The chest was broad with a smattering of hair and some muscle. Not six-pack chiseled but defined enough to make me appreciate that this was someone who did manual labor…. Or went to the gym. He was covered in flour and some kind of sticky coating.
Was that… chocolate?
"Shit, you're not Liv," the person who owned the magnificent chest muttered.
I was dimly aware that he was speaking, but all I saw was a filthy dirty man.
And I wanted to ride him like a pogo stick. After I cleaned him. Preferably with my tongue.
Whoa. Down girl. Abort! Abort!
With conscious effort I pulled myself together, managing to look up and into the face of this demi-god.
"You must be The Queen of Clean," the guy said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Laura Sweep," I confirmed, holding out my own hand to shake. He clasped it and I about died. His hand engulfed mine, making my large one feel small and dainty. His palm was calloused but warm and strong as he gently squeezed.
I wanted that hand on me. Everywhere. Now.
Pull it together, Laura!
"Sweep?"
"Family name,” I said absently. “We own the Clean Sweep Company." My gaze dropped and I nearly swallowed my tongue.
He's wearing grey sweat pants. Please Lord, I need some help right now. Forgive me for these are not pure thoughts. Satan is tempting your girl something fierce today, Lord.
My lady parts tingled for the first time in… well, a long damn time. And I was more than happy to have stumbled across this hunk of a man.
"Come on in," he invited. "I'll just be a second. Gotta get the baby."
He turned, hurrying down the hall and disappearing. I entered, immediately assessing the situation even as I tried to shake off my attraction to my client.
The only time I ever lost control like this was when… actually. I never lost control like this. This was legitimately the first time I'd ever had my brain lock into a sexual frenzy.
Unsurprising. I mean, did you see that guy? I forcible refocused on the house. It was… well, describing it as a disaster zone would be kind. Baby clothes, toys, books, blankets and what looked like a plate with a crusty piece of half-eaten toast decorated the entry. A quick peak into the first room showed a sitting area that had been reconfigured as a play room. It too was a mess.
How many kids does this couple have?
Liv had been pretty vague when she'd explained this project.
"An opportunity has come up. The house is a mess and they need an urgent intervention. Can you be in Cape Hardgrave by Friday?"
I'd immediately said yes, expecting to treat this like any other job. I'd live with the family, work out their ebb and flow, try and figure out what their triggers were, then teach them a few tips and tricks to get their house organized and improve their cleanliness.
