Page 5 of Coming Clean

Connor

I turned into Jeremy’s driveway at five minutes til nine.

I’d guessed right. It was the large green house I’d been thinking of.

Someone had told me it had been the mill owner’s house in the early nineteen hundreds, when the neighborhood was a mill village.

That seemed likely. It was certainly the largest house on the street, even including those with additions.

No doubt, my rattly old Dodge truck looked out of place sitting in the circular drive with the perfectly manicured lawn stretching toward the street on one side and the beautiful old house on the other.

But I wasn’t going to worry about that. Money coming into the business was what mattered, and a one-time clean of a place like this would be a high-dollar job.

If we got to do multiple jobs here, all the better.

I cut the engine and took a deep breath.

I had that feeling again: the prickle along my spine that told me something was up, something I wasn’t going to like.

I stepped out of the truck and rolled my shoulders, trying to shake the feeling off, but the sense of impending doom didn’t go away.

I fought the urge to crouch down, use the door as a shield, and pull the weapon I no longer carried.

What the hell was wrong with me? There was no danger here.

The scariest thing I was going to run into in this neighborhood was a frantic hipster who’d forgotten to buy his kombucha and kale.

Frustrated with myself, I slammed the driver’s door and beeped the lock before realizing I’d left my clipboard inside.

Fuck! It was going to be that kind of day, wasn’t it?

Once I’d checked to be sure I had all the paperwork I needed, I relocked my truck and marched up the steps to the door.

As I knocked, I naturally held myself at attention.

All those years of training weren’t shaken off easily.

Jeremy

Shit! Someone was at the door. I’d been certain I could finish breakfast before the cleaners came but here I was, covered in toast crumbs and only halfway through my eggs.

I gulped down a last sip of coffee as I brushed myself off with my free hand.

Then I ran toward the front door, not wanting to keep the man with the alluring voice waiting.

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten how slick the hardwood floors were.

I tried to slow myself, but it was too late: I went into an uncontrolled skid and landed against the door with a bone-jarring thud.

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

Great. I’d already made a fool of myself in front of Mr. Sexy Voice, and I hadn’t even seen him yet.

With a sigh, I opened the door. “Sorry. The floor’s slippery, especially if you’re…

” I glanced down. Fuck. My feet had been cold, so I was wearing socks David had given me last Christmas in an effort to brighten up my life.

They had roosters on them and said, ‘check out my cock’.

What a first impression. Why hadn’t I thought to change?

I looked up and for the first time, truly saw the man on the other side of the door.

He’d said his name was Connor, right? Damn, he could wear cock socks, or anything else, and still make a good impression.

Better yet, he could wear nothing at all.

His light brown hair was buzzed, emphasizing the firm line of his jaw, and his eyes looked like burnished gold.

While he wasn’t significantly taller than my five foot eleven, he held himself in a way that made him seem much larger, and he exuded confidence.

“You are Jeremy Parks, right?”

Please let me get through this interview without embarrassing myself… again. “Yes, and you’re Spit Shine Clean. Not that that’s your name but?—”

“I’m Connor.” The amazing specimen of maleness held out his hand. I hoped to God there wasn’t any egg or jam on mine as I reached out to shake.

Whoa. Connor’s strength and the rough maleness of his hand paralyzed me as if he’d hit me with a Taser.

I didn’t usually go for the military type.

I was more likely to be uneasy around them than turned on.

Maybe my wires were crossed that morning, or maybe I’d rattled something loose when I hit the door, because I wanted to drag Connor up to my bedroom and forget about showing him the rest of the house.

When he let go of my hand, I steadied myself, sure I was going to slide down again.

“You okay?” Connor asked.

“Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just… I meant to change. These socks were a gift. A gag gift.”

“I like them.”

I glanced at Connor, and the surprise in his eyes indicated he might be as startled as I was that those words had come out of his mouth. Did he think they were good for straight-guy bragging? Surely he didn’t mean he liked… No. “Thanks. My friend has an interesting sense of humor.”

Connor grinned. “I can tell.”

“Do you want me to show you around?” I gestured for Connor to enter, and shut the door behind him when he walked in.

“That sounds good. I’m going to make some notes, room sizes and things like that, so I can give you a good estimate.”

“Okay. The kitchen is this way.” I pointed toward the back of the house.

I had to practically run to catch up after being mesmerized by the perfection that was Connor’s ass. Firm and begging to be cupped and squeezed. How did the man bend down to clean in pants that tight? Had David known Connor was this hot? If so, he should have warned me.

I showed Connor all three floors without any major incidents, just a few tongue-tied moments, but I was used to those even when not in the presence of a god-like man. My social skills weren’t exactly top of the class.

We ended up back in the kitchen where Connor sat at the table to fill out an estimate form. I took the opportunity to peruse all of Connor’s hard, muscly bits as well as the softer places I’d like to sink my teeth into.

“Well, it looks like…”

I looked up from the promising bulge between Connor’s legs to see the man staring right at me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Yes?” Try to play it off. No way were you just trying to decide if his cock really was as thick as it looked behind his jeans.

Connor gave me a once-over, but I wasn’t sure if it was sexual or a threat assessment.

I hoped I hadn’t pissed him off. He could probably snap my neck effortlessly, and if he’d really been in the military like his demeanor suggested, he could probably kill me with the pen he was holding or use his pinky to magically cut off my airflow.

He gave me the prices for an initial deep clean and subsequent weekly ones, then said, “Would you like to go ahead and schedule the initial clean?”

“That sounds good. How soon can you come? I mean be here. Um, clean the house?”

That moment of insanity might have tipped the balance. Connor looked at me like he was contemplating how to escape as quickly as possible. “How about a week from Friday? We could get started at eight.”

Okay, maybe Connor wasn’t scared off after all. Eight was atrociously early. I had gotten used to lying in bed reading, writing, and wishing I had someone to bring me coffee. “Eight sounds good.” I could get up and start the day like a responsible person. I could even dress like one.

“Okay, I’ll put you on the schedule. Do you have any questions?”

Any chance you date men? If not, have you had a bi-curious moment? Want to have one now? “No, not that I can think of.”

“Okay. I have a form with some basic information that I’ll need before your cleaning date.” Connor pulled a sheet of paper off his clipboard and held it out. “You can fill this one out, scan it, and email it to the address at the top or find the form on our website.”

I nodded. “No problem.”

“If something comes up, just give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll see you next week.”

I followed Connor to the front door, my eyes glued to the man’s ass once again. “Have a good day.”

Connor turned from opening the door, his expression more relaxed than I had seen it so far. “Yes, sir. You too,” he said, then pulled the door shut behind him.

I forced myself to walk away rather than watch Connor leave. I didn’t need to spend any more time salivating over a man who was so obviously not for me.