Page 9 of Coming Clean

“Probably. Things are up inthe air right now. I need to get it ready to be on the market, butit might take a while for it to sell so I might need multiplecleans. I… Sorry, I’m just a bit frazzled.”

How did this guy makefrazzled sound adorable? And why was that even attractive? Connordidn’t do adorable. “No problem. Why don’t we set up a time for anestimate, and then we can talk about furtherscheduling?”

“Sure. That sounds good. Myweek’s really open. I’m on sabbatical right now.”

Sabbatical? That was like apaid vacation, right? What kind of job gave those? “Okay. Just so Ihave an idea, how large is the home you’d like cleaned? Are you, oranyone else living there?”

It’s thirty-five-hundredsquare feet, and I’m living in it right now.”

“Okay. How many bedroomsand baths?”

“Six bedrooms, fivebaths.”

It sounded like Jeremy hadinherited quite a nice house. “All right, and theaddress?”

“Eighty-nine AustriaAvenue. It’s in West Asheville.”

“I know the street. It’snot too far from my place.” Was he talking about the big greenhouse, the one Connor always admired when he’d jogged by? He’dloved to see the inside.

“Oh, okay. Um… what dayworks for you?”

A shiver ran over Connorand his senses went on alert. He’d come to think of the feeling ashis battlefield sixth sense, the one that told him he was steppinginto danger. What sort of danger could come from Mr. I’m OnSabbatical? “I’ll actually be working for some clients in the areatomorrow. Would tomorrow morning at nine work for anestimate?”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m lookingforward to it. To… um… meeting you. I mean, to finding out aboutthe service. Cleaning service.”

Connor swallowed his laugh.It wasn’t a great idea to insult a prospective client. “Great. Seeyou then.”

As he drove to his nextjob, Connor reviewed the phone call in his head. The guy, JeremyParks, had every reason to be flustered. He’d probably lost someoneclose to him, and he’d just moved, too. But he hadn’t soundedoverwhelmed or grieving, he’d sounded nervous.

Connor shook his head. Hewas being ridiculous, wasn’t he? At least he only had to wait untilthe next day to find out more about Jeremy.

CHAPTER FOUR

Connor turned into Jeremy’sdriveway five minutes before nine AM. He’d guessed right. It wasthe large green house he’d been thinking of. Someone had told himit had been the mill owner’s house in the early nineteen hundreds,when the neighborhood was a mill village. That seemed likely. Itwas certainly the largest house on the street, including those withadditions.

No doubt, his rattly oldDodge truck looked out of place sitting in the circular drive withthe perfectly manicured lawn stretching toward the street on oneside and the beautiful old house on the other. But Connor wasn’tgoing to worry about that. Money coming into the business was whatmattered, and a one-time clean of a place like this would be aroundfive hundred dollars. If they got to do multiple jobs here, all thebetter.

Connor cut the engine andtook a deep breath. He had that feeling again: the prickle alonghis spine that told him something was up, something he wasn’t goingto like. He stepped out of the truck and rolled his shoulders,trying to shake the feeling off, but the sense of impending doomdidn’t go away. He fought the urge to crouch down, use the door asa shield, and pull the weapon he no longer carried. What the hellwas wrong with him? There was no danger here. The scariest thing hewas going to run into in this neighborhood was a frantic hipsterwho’d forgotten to buy Brussels sprouts and bacon.

Frustrated with himself, heslammed the driver’s door and beeped the lock before realizing he’dleft his clipboard inside. Fuck! It was going to be that kind ofday, wasn’t it? Once he’d checked to be sure he had all thepaperwork he needed, he relocked his truck and marched up the stepsto the door. As he knocked, he naturally held himself at attention.All those years of training weren’t shaken off easily.

****

Knock! Knock!

Shit!Someone was at the door. Jeremy had been certain he could finish breakfast before thecleaners came but here he was, covered in toast crumbs and onlyhalfway through his eggs. He gulped down a last sip of coffee as hebrushed himself with the other hand. Then he ran toward the frontdoor, not wanting to keep the man with the alluring voice waiting.Unfortunately, he’d forgotten how slick the hardwood floors were.He tried to slow himself but it was too late: he went into auncontrolled skid and landed against the door with a bone-jarringthud.

“I thought I was supposedto be the one knocking,” the man on the other side said, his voicejust as low and rich as it had been on the phone.

Jeremy wished he hadn’tmade an utter fool of himself in front of Mr. Sexy Voice.With a sigh, he opened the door. “Sorry. Thefloor’s slippery, especially if you’re…” He glanced down. Fuck. Hewas wearing his neon paisley socks, the ones David had given himlast Christmas in an effort to brighten up his life. He’d reallymeant to change. Frayed khaki shorts and paisley socks. Yeah, thatwas a great first impression.

He looked up and for thefirst time, really saw the man on the other side of the door,Connor, he’d said his name was. Damn, Connor could wear paisleysocks, or anything else, and still make a good impression. Betteryet, he could wear nothing at all. His light brown hair was buzzed,emphasizing the firm line of his jaw, and his eyes looked likeburnished gold. While he wasn’t significantly taller than Jeremy’sfive foot eleven, he held himself in a way that made him seem muchlarger, and he exuded confidence. No doubt he’d be a good man tohave on your side in a zombie apocalypse.

“You are Jeremy Parks,right?”

Please let me getthrough this interview without embarrassing myself.Again. “Yes, and you’re Spit ShineClean. Not that that’s your name but—”

“I’m Connor.” The amazingspecimen of maleness held out his hand. Jeremy hoped to God therewasn’t any egg or jam on his own as he reached out toshake.