When I told Daisy the whole story about Clyde she was equal parts amused and miffed.
“I was flirting with Hank. He works at Biscuit in the Basket now because the Adlers let him go. Not enough money for staff and he says a big chunk of their crop tanked again this year. They’ll forfeit that booth before the end of the fall season and we can snag it up,” she had said. Hank was five years older than me and had been a farmhand with the Adlers since he was in high school. He had a thing for Daisy and probably wouldn’t lie to her. But still, I couldn’t rely on their perpetual bad luck.
“Tate said he’d use the booth to sell his body before he lets us take it over,” I had replied.
“Gosh I hope Clyde got a good left hook in. I hate the Adlers,” Daisy had grumbled.
“George had a bruise on his face but Clyde’s gonna have a black eye,” I told her. “And he had the nerve to blame it on me. He said if I really wanted to prove I should take over the farm, I should make it a priority and I should have been the one to go down to city hall and reserve the spot.”
“He’s gonna sell it,” Daisy predicted sadly. “He is just looking for any excuse he can because he cares more about money than family.”
Daisy was probably right, which was why figuring out a backup plan took precedence over my schoolwork. Clyde had been threatening to sell the farm for a while now, which had Daisy and me both terrified and angry. My mom and dad raised us there, they dedicated their lives to it, as our two uncles had as well, and Daisy and I were actually planning to do the same. The last couple of years, we’ve all spent more time and energy than we should trying to convince Clyde to let us take it over. So now that we don’t have the fall market, I have to figure out how to off-load our honey and cheeses. The stores we are currently selling to don’t need larger supplies at the moment so I start contacting new ones via their websites.
I finished the entire jar of salsa and am in the middle of applying for a booth for a weekend fair in Upstate New York when the buzzer for the front door squeals through the apartment.
“The maid is here! I’ll buzz him up!” Daisy hollers, way too excitedly. I chuckle as I crumple up the now empty chip bag. Suddenly there is a knock on my open door and I turn and see Daisy, Caroline and Jasmyn staring at me with grins so big they’re almost scary.
“What?”
“Go get the door!” Daisy demands.
“I thought you let her in?”
“I buzzed them up but someone still has to let them into the apartment,” Daisy explains and bounces a little. “We want you to do it.”
“Why don’t you get it?” I ask and the hair on the back of my neck starts to rise. Something is up. I don’t know what, but I don’t like it.
“Just come on! Before the…maid…thinks we’re not home and leaves!” Caroline giggles and suddenly darts into my room and grabs my arm, yanking me off the chair.
“What the hell, Caroline!” I say as someone knocks on the front door. Daisy and Jasmyn are running along behind us as Caroline drags me around the corner and down the hall to the front door. I’m trying to dig my heels in to stop the forward motion, but I’m in socks on hardwood so it’s futile.
“She’s coming!” Daisy calls out as Caroline finally lets go of my arm when we reach the front door. I stare at it and then turn and face my roommates with my arms crossed.
“I’m not answering that,” I say flatly.
“Why not?” Jasmyn asks, her big brown eyes wide with excitement, over what I have no clue, and that’s exactly why I will not answer the door. Because something is up and everyone knows it but me.
“I hate surprises,” I remind my sister, who should know this by now.
“It’s just the maid. I swear,” Daisy says, and the smile drops off her wide mouth…which has a pretty pink gloss on it. And her brown eyes are sporting eyeliner and mascara.
I glance as Jasmyn and Caroline who are also both wearing makeup suddenly. Daisy was clean faced and in sweats earlier. Caroline was still in pajamas. Jasmyn wasn’t even home. There’s another knock as I say, “What the hell is up?”
Daisy huffs in annoyance. “God, you’re such a scaredy-cat.”
She pushes past me and grabs the door handle, but she slides to the right with it as she swings it open leaving me face-to-face with…a man. He’s in a very tight white tank top, ripped jeans slung oh so low on his narrow hips, a cowboy hat, a red bandana over the bottom half of his face and sunglasses over his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?”
He doesn’t say anything, but I think he tenses up. Or flexes? Something makes all his muscles—and there are a lot of them—tighten. Jasmyn giggles beside me and Caroline makes a low almost-growl sound of appreciation as her eyes sweep over him. Daisy peeks around the door she opened that she’s basically hiding behind. “He’s our cleaner. We hired Manly Maids.”
“Manly Maids?” I repeat, confused and look at him again. “What the hell is Manly Maids?”
“A cleaning service that only sends hot, buff, beautiful men to scrub you clean,” Jasmyn explains. “Well, your house.”
“Come in!” Caroline urges the guy and starts motioning with her hands.
He reaches for something and hesitantly crosses the threshold with a mop and bucket in his hand now and I notice a feather duster sticking out of his back pocket. And then, as Daisy swings the door closed behind him, and he is less than a foot in front of me, he puts down his cleaning stuff, takes off his cowboy hat, hooking it on the mop handle, and reaches up behind his back and grabs the thin tank top and starts pulling it up over his head.
